a/n: nonsensical, detached crackish writing; implausible premise; and all that jiggery pokery that you needn't concern yourself with.

warnings: children die (that's what happens in an auror's job now, apparently). granger becomes a malfoy. there is slash.

They told him there was nothing over the edge of the precipice, but he knew that once he went over, the world would be safer. And thus Harry Potter whispered to a snitch, stood at Lord Voldemort's wandpoint, and held his head high.

Avada Kadavra tasted colder than he could've ever imagined.

There had been a train, rushing, rushing by. Taking souls into the endless tunnel and into a world beyond. There had been an infant abandoned beneath a chair, and Harry's heart had torn at the sight.

When Dumbledore told him he had been waiting, Harry asked for "who, Gellert?" Because surely no one would be waiting for him when he walked Death's tightrope. And then he took the crying infant in his arms and crookedly grinned at his old Headmaster. No one was would have to depend on him anymore.

He was proven wrong when another presence entered the station. The stranger requested the three hallows and Harry realised it was no stranger at all, merely an old acquaintance whose face warped and shifted throughout the years. From the carrion vixens to the caw of crows, from black black black to bleached white bone. Harry saw him as a fleshless stag: a skeleton.

Death had no master; Death held no bounds. But Death still upheld what the world dictated... balance. Where there was light, there was shadow. Where there was predator, there was prey. And trickery, those who thwarted death, the anomalies, would one day need to be abolished. That was the day. The hallows were to be relinquished.

(See, Life had been complaining. The hallows had caused enough turmoil in the cycle of living and dying. Those outliving Death had grown bold, but Life and Death had their own strings to pull.)

Harry did not hesitate. He accepted. Somewhere he knew a stone had shattered, a wand no longer ruled, and a cloak had lost its sheen. He knew… Death had no master.

And so Death had laughed. Others, Death rasped with a voice like plague and a voice like pestilence. A balance, Harry Potter.

The infant in his arms suddenly felt quite a bit more important.

For all his wandering, Albus, did you know? There was no need for a horcrux hunt. Only my hallows.

The old Headmaster inclined his head gravely but his eyes danced with mirth and joy. "Alas, not everything will go how I envision. But I think this works rather well, too."

Harry felt in the dark, confused and left behind, until the screaming started. The bundle in his arms wailed and there seemed to be many voices that rushed towards the one, disfigured infant.

And soon Harry was not holding an infant. In his arms lay the uncovered, unconscious body of the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

("You have a curious sense of timing, Death." Albus mused. "One can only wonder why you've chosen to restore Tom now."

A favour for the soul who willingly returned my hallows, Death replied. A balm for the wildness within me that hungers for theatrics. Another method to ensure the world continues to spin. This choice was not my own. Fate demands, with all her strings entangled.

"And the prophecy?"

There is no Lord Voldemort, only a child with all his griefs and all his powers. There is no Boy Who Lived, only Fate grinning wider and tugging another of her puppets. Those roles will have been fulfilled. Death seemed to look into their eyes as he said this, if they can dance our dance, their names will no longer be those of the prophecy.

Dumbledore chuckled and Harry saw a disarming gleam of sadness. "Ah… I hope they fare as Gellert and I never did.")

The man's head lolled back over Harry's arm to reveal the whole of his neck. His pale skin swept down, down, to elegant legs tucked over Harry's hold. From hair to shoulder, from leg to toe, the man was all long-limbed and lithe grace. He seemed to stir, and Harry panicked. This could not be happening.

A pair of grey eyes met his.

Harry dropped him with a yelp, Death snorted, and the man only just caught himself, dark eyes blinking slowly.

"Death," he murmured, sitting himself unabashedly on the tiled floor. Harry averted his eyes. "I have feared you for all my life, and just as I think I've truly escaped your grasp, you choose to reveal that you can always take what you deem yours."

Where goes Life, I follow. Death said almost gently. I do allow for immortality, but only to those who I know will one day choose to return here. There was an unspoken message here that Harry could not quite understand.

Dumbledore's eyes glinted away with mirth.

Fate plays a last card here. I hope not to see you awaiting your train, Tom Riddle, without another soul at your side.

Harry caught only a glimpse of a huge black paw in the edge of his vision before Fate whispered in his ear in one smooth melody. Balance for Tom's suffering. A final role for you. See him off, and sweetly, if you would. She leaned close, and she murmured with thousands of voices:

You are bound.

The Forbidden Forest leapt into Harry's eyes and he was once again sprawled across the earth. He heard a woman, calling and calling for her lord and master. Heard Lord Voldemort announce the death of the Boy Who Lived.

Heard the snake of a man scream as Nagini was beheaded. Not a scream for a horcrux, Harry realised. The horcruxes were gone.

And finally Harry slipped away and stood face-to-face with Lord Voldemort, the world watching around them. The horcruxes were gone and here stood a man shockingly mortal. And King's Cross… Harry did not understand. But he understood perfectly the prophecy and the shoes he needed to fill.

"Avada Kedavra!" Rose Tom's cry, but that was not the brilliant green of Harry's eyes. That was not the brilliant, blinding blaze that had twice now filled his vision.

(Tom Marvolo Riddle had always been accomplished with non-verbal spells.)

The elder wand turned on its master in an explosion of gold and white with great twin CRACK!s A pyre reached for the skies and Lord Voldemort could not be seen or heard screaming in the roaring flame. It crackled and crackled, scouring the land with heat with animals leaping in its maw. A bonfire of Fiendfyre. Not a trace of the Dark Lord, nor his wand, could be found once the ashes settled.

Dawn broke and that day the Wizarding world hailed the destruction of Lord Voldemort.

"Do you know what they say about fire?" Hermione asked Harry in the light of the new day, the reporters still swarming and the families still grieving. Her voice was steadier than it had ever been. "It's cleansing. It's often portrayed in novels as symbolism for rebirth."

"What about it?"

"Draco and the Room of Requirement." Hermione said hurriedly. "I think… you really ought to give him a chance." She glanced at the Malfoy family who huddled together with shock etched in their features. "And maybe this is the rebirth of the Wizarding World, too."

"Mate…" Ron appeared. "It's the end of You- Voldemort. It's all gonna change."

The dark was gone. Harry had no more duties to fulfill. He could settle in its aftermath and finally feel life drape itself across his shoulders.

He stood for the Malfoy's at their trial.

He was constantly swarmed by the papers. He took the job as an Auror anyway.

Hermione and Ron never ended up married, while he and Ginny gracefully, gently, fell apart. The Weasley's, somehow, didn't fault him for it. She had spun them the explanation that the Wizarding World would never let him go of his past, and she could not heal him of wounds he did not show her. He flung himself into his new life wholeheartedly, but some part of him knew that it was not over. Some piece was still missing.

When he visited Dumbledore's grave and saw what was resting over the headstone, he knew something was yet to happen. A snapped elder wand lay upon the soil alongside the palest flowers. He recalled an elegant, beautiful man in his arms, but quickly banished the image. Tom had not returned. Death had claimed him, after all. Tom had not returned. Someone, perhaps Luna, must've found the wand.

He'd climbed in the Auror ranks, but was not quite Head. He was much too young for that.

Hermione began visiting the Malfoy Manor regularly. Sometimes Harry accompanied her, and although with initial awkwardness, Narcissa had welcomed him with open arms. Lucius showed his face with reluctance. Ron had only attempted to join once or twice. Between the Malfoys and the Weasleys, Harry had enough of a family, yet something still felt missing. The Weasleys were a bustling, boisterous bunch that never ceased to amuse him. The Malfoys created a much more intimate, relaxing atmosphere. Much like falling asleep before the hearth after a tiring day. They'd sit and play wizarding chess, listening to the crackling of a fireplace.

Harry was plagued by constant bouts of illness. He'd been in St. Mungo's for it more than once and each time they'd diagnosed some ludicrous disease that required impossible treatments, and then the illness would reside on its own. It was during those times as he writhed in bed, throwing up in the Malfoy's sink with Narcissa worriedly standing aside, that he'd feel the most hollow.

The world only slowed down again during Hermione's wedding. The day of monumental importance seemed to fill Harry with a strange sense of anticipation as though, finally, something was going to happen. Hermione was flitting around in her gown, cheeks flushed with joy. Draco was as uptight was ever, but he had asked Harry to be his best man. It was fitting, he had said, nervously. Harry had only laughed.

Now it was over and they were all to mingle in the large Malfoy gardens where the wedding had taken place. There weren't many people attending: Harry, Hermione and her parents, the Weasleys, and what remained of the Black family.

"I swear Robards must feel like either throttling me or marrying me every time I finish up a case." Harry laughed into his glass. "I don't feel like an Auror. I'm more like… the law's errand boy. What happened to all the paperwork?"

"Robards set it onto all your poor subordinates because you're too incompetent to handle it." Draco replied. "Merlin knows you're only good for running about hexing the evil citizens selling leg-eating trousers."

They both laughed; Harry had to take that case once. It had honestly been ridiculous, but had somehow managed to spiral into a plot much more twisted, involving dark magic, sperm, pants, and cursed infants.

Hermione stopped by, taking Draco's arm and positively beaming. "Harry," she began, and he looked up at her but his eyes caught on a man standing alone near the wedding arch.

His glass fell from his fingers.

"Harry?" Hermione frowned.

"Fuck." He said, coherently. "I- No. This isn't even- just- How?"

"Providing the definition to tongue-tied. What's shocked you senseless this time?" Draco commented dryly, but he followed Harry's gaze.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry whispered and both Hermione and Draco's eyes widened.

"I didn't recognise him. Hermione," Draco said with utmost seriousness, "evacuate the guests as quickly as you can." He said to Harry as she disappeared: "Let me assure you, I certainly didn't invite the dead Dark Lord himself to my wedding."

"Didn't think you did. Go with her, Draco. I'll deal with this." Harry muttered lowly and approached the lone man in his suit. Tom leaned by the arch, looking at an open pocket watch. He was dressed formally and didn't quite look out of place, considering Hermione's parents and Arthur were too, wearing muggle clothing.

The watch closed with a click, long fingers sliding over the lid.

Harry a good metre away before he finally dared to speak and said, "it wasn't the right green."

"You, of all people, would've realised." Tom replied, his voice just as Harry remembered at King's Cross. Like silk. He turned to look at Harry and for a moment Harry was stunned by that dark gaze. "Tasted death one too many times?"

Harry couldn't quite find the right words to speak. Nervousness prickled at him and made his hands feel not quite his own. "How? And why? Why are you here, wearing-" he gestured at the muggle suit. It fitted the man, oddly enough. Tom with his sleek, yet effortless form. His hair wasn't even meticulously groomed. Instead, it was allowed to flick and fall in waves. He looked so young. In his early twenties, even.

"House elves and their apparation." Tom said simply. "I cast a number of spells that night. I also set a number of plans in motion once you and I woke." His lips twitched a little wryly. "They all went splendidly. And as for the outfit… A statement, don't you think?"

The rest of the wedding guests filtered out, casting cautious looks at Harry and his conversation partner. Tom seemed to ignore them. "Two years." Harry said. "What on earth have you been doing in two years? I would've recognised you if you'd gotten into politics."

"Tell me, Harry," Tom purred. "What has changed?"

Harry wanted to hit himself. Of course. Tom had grown his face back. He'd probably partaken in a number of illegal, dark rituals as well.

"I'm here for you, Harry. I'm here to make sure Harry Potter no longer exists. The prophecy will hold no longer."

In an instant Harry was a good ten steps away, hand on his wand and heart frozen to ice.

"And how do I intend to do that, you may wonder." Tom smirked, the expression familiar on his aristocratic features as he sauntered towards his prey.

"Expelliarmus!" Nothing flew out of Tom's hands. His black vest didn't so much as twitch. Tom hadn't brought his wand? Bloody- he was a master of wandless magic. Harry threw a stunner that was dissipated with a wave of a hand, and then Tom spun on the spot and disappeared.

How could he apparate inside the Malfoy wards? Harry was going to wring Draco alive if he ever got out of his. His mind was already running all through Auror protocol, except the fact that this was Tom Riddle overrode all of them. Harry couldn't, couldn't defeat Tom. It was impossible when Tom was sane. A knife, anything at all, was enough to end his life forever. And he couldn't apparate to somewhere safe, either, because there was nowhere safe at all. He'd only lead Tom to more lambs for slaughter.

A body was suddenly behind him. It brought him close, and somehow there was no blade sinking into his back or slitting his throat. Harry's breath, traitorously, hitched. Supple fingers slipped beneath his chin, sending sparks across his skin, and Harry was abruptly aware of the fact that perhaps he wasn't going to die after all. His head was tilted upwards so avada eyes met grey and Tom spoke: "A different approach, this time. I will break this fool prophecy by renaming you Harry James Riddle."

"What," Harry managed, because he had never heard anything more outlandish in his entire life.

"Surely you did not think Fate was appeased with all you've done so far." Tom leaned closer, dangerously closer to Harry's lips. He smelt like sharp, crisp linen, surrounding Harry from every side. The garden seemed to disappear, and there was only terrifying, terrifying Tom. "One last tryst, Harry, and then we'll both be free."

With another crack!, Harry was alone in the garden. In Tom's sudden absence, weakness crashed down upon him and he sunk to his knees.

He heard someone call his name. Hermione came racing down from the Manor, Draco on her heels and a dozen of the ministry's Aurors.

Surrounded by the beauty of the gardens, he caught a glimpse of a familiar pale flower and began to laugh. Hermione and her husband quickly reached him, and by then, he might have been crying a little, too.

His life was really just that mad.

Apparently Draco had forgotten to remove the Dark Lord from the Manor wards, thinking it unnecessary, and Harry did indeed give a groom a verbal lashing on his wedding night. But the next morning a gorgeous black hawk caught his eye, a letter between its talons as it swooped towards his apartment.

Harry opened his kitchen window and took the envelope.

"Incendio."

The ex-Dark Lord was pestering him at his workplace. Letters kept popping onto his desk alongside flowers or other gifts. With all the fury in the world, Harry burnt them. The worst thing was that sometimes they were really quite magnificent. A golden, miniature animated dragon sat on his desk, puffing little clouds of smoke, and Harry had his wand pointed at it rather threateningly. It also seemed to double as a pen holder, where the dragon would jealously guard Harry's quills.

He swore Riddle must've been putting people under imperio to keep depositing his gifts in his office. He had only just left for a quick call to Hermione's office about a missing child, and as soon as he had returned to his own that he shared with Ron, he had spotted the letter and the dragon. It was all rather nonsensical.

"I tried to get you something that wouldn't burn, this time." Harry whipped around to where Tom was lounging on the couch in Harry's office, between two filing cabinets. He hadn't he seen the man-! "I thought you might let it last a little longer. It seems I was correct." Riddle was dressed well in black slacks and white shirt, tie loosened. His top button was undone and his arms were draped across the back of the sofa. "Harry, do you condemn a sane man for actions taken when he was insane?"

"Nope, you're getting out right now, get out of my office-" Harry stalked around his desk over to the infuriating man, grabbing hold of an arm. "If you know what's good for you, leave me and my families alone."

"What is it about me that you insist on attributing to Voldemort?" Tom asked casually as Harry practically dragged him across the room.

"Manipulation," Harry hissed. "A general lack of a heart. Being the guy who lost his sanity in the first place."

"You've seen the memories." Tom said mildly. "I think you know what drove me to those ends. And I think you know what it is like to be gripped by obsession." They stood in Harry's doorway, which was dangerous, dangerous indeed. He didn't want someone who would recognise Tom to walk by. That would raise alarms all over the country and just rain absolute hell. Although, strangely enough, no one had recognised Tom at the wedding until Harry had noticed.

"You murdered people in cold blood to get your first horcrux."

"I justified my first murders as revenge." Tom said sharply. "I had been abandoned for years, harbouring an increasing hate for my father. From there it was a slippery slope that I do not intend to take again. Tell me, Harry, what would've happened if Dumbledore had not stopped you when you kept visiting the Mirror of Erised? Because that, that, was my fate."

"You've just proved to me that I can't trust you with words." Harry pointed out.

"I despise that. I intend to be as frank as possible in courting you, contrary to my Slytherin nature." Tom actually seemed earnest, but this was the serpent heir himself. Two elegant hands came to rest on Harry's shoulders and Harry shot him an warning look. "I'll have you know that you are not being forced by this bond of ours; it will not cause our deaths if we are miles apart or bedding another. It serves to overcome the prophecy."

"That's why you want me? For your own, selfish, bond-enhanced plots-" A hand slipped up his shoulder and it was again under his chin, tipping his head upwards to force his eyes to lock with Tom's.

"The bond will make us a little sick if we're awfully far apart, but it is not what will cause our deaths." Tom cut in, his eyes a stormy grey. "That, Harry, is the prophecy's duty."

Harry froze.

"Time is ticking; I'm surprised that you've forgotten the words of forces greater than us. We've been denying the prophecy for two years now by co-existing. Sooner or later it will force Fate's hand, but she has given us an out. I intend to take it. Do you?"

"I can kill you."

"Can you?" Dark eyes seemed to pin him to the spot. "I'd rather not have to murder you, Harry. They were your hallows that gave me a second chance to live sane. And Death did leave me a final warning."

"Okay, I-" Harry took a deep breath, all too aware that Tom was awfully close. "What does the bond require?"

Tom smiled primly, his lips inches from Harry's.

"Now, I can't tell you that," oh hell no. "It would interfere with the process. But I do now have your permission to proceed in courting you."

No, that was not going to be a thing. Harry was not permitting Lord Voldemort, murderer of many, terror of the wizarding world-

"You may also want to know," his lips were a breath away. Harry's brain short-circuited. "That every single one of those letters were empty."

With a rich laugh, Tom drew back and disapparated. Harry could only blink with the loss of the man's proximity, suddenly feeling far colder, as if the man had taken joy with him as he left. It was difficult, he had to admit, to attribute this man to Voldemort. Voldemort would not laugh, and Voldemort would certainly not… send empty letters. The cheeky Slytherin.

One of the first things that he registered was that Tom had torn right through the Ministry's wards without setting off any alarms. (Draco's blunder or no, he would've been able to get into Malfoy Manor.) The second thing he registered was that one of his juniors in the department was standing at the other end of the hallway, eyes wide.

The Auror cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Harry, uh- Should I or shouldn't I be reporting that to Robards?"

"Let's just-" Harry rubbed at his head where he felt a headache rapidly building. He thought his patience had improved over the years, but Tom obviously had to prove otherwise. "Bloody Merlin, let's just pretend that wasn't disapparation."

"Reparo." Poor cup. It hadn't deserved to be shattered in Harry's hand when he read the Daily Prophet. But then again, Harry hadn't deserved to open the papers to a page that announced a certain 'Marvolo Slytherin' stepping forth to claim his title. There had been no image included, but Harry fully well knew who it was.

Mr Slytherin been 'overseas', apparently, 'researching the obscure.' Actually, Harry thought, that was likely true, at least in the recent two years. He'd assured the reporter that he held no intention of continuing Slytherin's infamous muggleborn killings, openly stating that he himself was a half-blood.

What in the name of bloody Merlin was this man playing at?

Soon, Hermione and Ron had been invited over and they sat in his kitchen theorising away.

"-There's no way he won't get into politics, Harry. Voldemort was a monster that wanted genocide, but now that he's sane, he'll want to do it the Slytherin way."

Honestly, Harry didn't know how to explain that Tom was courting him. He'd previously told Hermione that Tom was looking for a way to ensure the prophecy "was gone" and she'd been panicking ever since. He couldn't say whether or not her panic was well-founded, since yesterday Tom had explained his motivations.

"You're right, Hermione. He's not the same person as Voldemort at all."

"Mate, d'you know how he survived yet? You said before you had an idea, but-"

"-You know Draco's father practically interrogated me yesterday?"

Fuck it. "He's courting me because somehow it'll keep us alive." Harry blurted.

He was met with twin, uncomprehending, stares.

"He had a house elf to apparate him away-" Hermione hissed at the mention of house elves, "and used the Fiendfyre to cover up. Otherwise apparently he's found a bond that probably involves courting and will override the prophecy so we won't have to kill each other."

His two friends looked thoroughly unconvinced. "And why wouldn't he want to kill you, Harry?" Hermione asked. "I know you've probably thought about this quite a lot, but really-"

"If he kills me, he'll probably die." Harry cut her off. "We- Well, a few things happened in the Forbidden Forest, and he owes me."

Hermione and Ron shared a look. "Owes you how much?" Ron asked.

"His sanity and his life." Harry said firmly. "And I know, honestly, even I want him to stay away. But apparently if we don't ruin the prophecy, Fate is going to find some way to get one of us dead."

"You don't know that, Harry. I can see hundreds of different ways that this could be a trick." Hermione said.

"He could've killed me. During your wedding. He apparated right behind me and he could've just held a knife. He cornered me in my office yesterday, too. Seriously, if he wants something from me, it's probably not my death. Not yet." He laughed, his friends looking vaguely alarmed. "He could become a politician and be more influential than I'd ever. His magic's also leagues out of mine. I don't know what he wants."

"Revenge?"

"Maybe." Harry said with a shrug. "But he's doing a pretty sloppy job of it so far, if it is."

They dwelled together in silence for a while, Harry re-drawing himself a cup of hot tea before he shooed them out so he could get ready to go to work.

A box exploded and showered a crouched Harry with debris. He knew Ron and the other Aurors were in a similar situation a few feet away, cursing silently whilst Disillusioned. The four Aurors were locked into a warehouse with dozens of madmen who had been experimenting with the Dark Arts. They'd received a deceptively vague report earlier yesterday describing a lone crazy, but as soon as they'd stepped into the building, the entire place had shut into lockdown.

"Come out kittens, we can smell you." A voice crooned and Harry shrunk further into the shadows. Something else exploded on the other side of the warehouse as the madman took another potshot. They needed backup. They needed a ton of backup. There were always the Auror guidelines that if a 'short case' like this one lasted more than three hours, reinforcements would arrive, but three bloody hours!

There was the sound of scuffling and someone running. "My Lord," a snivelling voice began and the voice nearly sounded like Wormtail's. "My Lords, My Ladies. Come, come. See the results…"

Too much chatter started up and chairs scraped the floor at the voice's words. There were too many people! Merlin, how had something this large gone unnoticed for so long? Harry peered through a miniscule gap between the crates he was crouched behind. There was a mass of robes and legs moving away… to where? They had surveyed the perimeter earlier and seen no large side rooms.

Were they all leaving, even knowing they had intruders? Harry heard a heavy metal door shut with a slam and couldn't see any more legs. What was- it was a trap. It was most definitely a trap. He was expecting gas to flood in any moment room, and pre-emptively cast a modified Bubble-head charm over his mouth.

He glanced at his companions. Ron's hand appeared, disembodied, gesturing to wait. Harry had just been about to suggest the same thing.

There were still faint scuffing noises. Of course some had stayed behind. Harry looked back through the gap, hoping to catch a glimpse of what they were up against. The bloody men wore masks as if they would impersonate Death Eaters.

Harry got his wish too soon.

A face filled his vision and a bloodshot eye stared back through the crack.

Harry backed away in a flash, Disillusioned or not, his heart beating rapidfire. The eye continued to stare and Harry knew by the leer in its depths that his charm was useless. The boxes before him exploded with a squelch and the things inside the crates coated Harry. Entrails clung to his body.

If the charm wasn't useless before, it certainly was now.

The man that towered over him was a hunchback with a disfigured mouth. His lips were swollen into an enormous tumor that drooped right over his chin. Harry rolled away as a meaty hand came down, shouting a spell that would bind. His spell rolled off the mutated man like water-as did the three other binds and stunners shot by his fellow Aurors.

The large man seemed to have no mind at all, unable to form words or cast spells. He had no chance in catching Harry, but the Aurors couldn't seem to affect him with a single shot either. Ron set a lava trap but as soon as the man's foot touched it, it unraveled.

Harry noticed with growing alarm that lining the walls of the warehouse were tens of more of these tumor-coated men who began to stir and open their eyes to the fight. Along the back wall were the Aurors leaping across crates, and in the centre of the warehouse… tables. There had been some thrown-together meeting in here.

A physical fight it would have to be, then. (Harry was going to store knives in his office, at this rate.)

An Auror managed to sink an enchanted knife into one brute's eye, and although none of the enchantments took hold, it howled in pain. The Aurors resorted to their now-mundane blades, hacking and slashing and watching the dull men tumble. The aimed for the knees, decapitating the men and rendering them immobile and writhing against the ground as they fell unconscious.

Harry turned away at one point to throw up, because this… this was just sick. The warehouse was filled with the sounds of their pain. Their howls and beast-like whines. He wiped his mouth and approached yet another beast, but a hand shot out to snatch his ankle and a torn face appeared in his view.

( They could speak. It rasped "help-" )

His knife slashed into its skull.

Ron gave a shout and Harry whirled around, blood splattered across his robes.

He never even saw the stunner before it hit.

"Boss, boss, we've got an issue!"

Harry's head was pounding something fierce and someone was whining in his ear.

"Boss? The charm won't work on this one."

There was a silence where Harry assumed the man with the whiny voice was being shredded by a glare.

"What do you mean?" 'Boss' asked dangerously. "Are you truly this incompetent?"

"No, Boss, I swear, this one, he's-"

"Hand him over!" Harry was being levitated, he realised, cracking open his eyes. He saw nothing but darkness. Blindfolded.

The voice he recognised as 'Boss' muttered something lowly and he felt a pressure against his mental shields. Oh hell, he was garbage at Occlumency.

"Did any of the others prove too difficult for you?" 'Boss' mocked Whiny man.

"No, no! Their memories were altered perfectly!"

His flimsy shields bent under the force and a single crack crossed the surface. Merlin-! Harry attempted to remain calm like Snape had once taught him, but the memories kept flooding out from that one crack. Hermione and Ron. The other two Aurors. Hermione and her newly-wed Draco. The wedding, with its flowering arch and the pale white flower- Dumbledore,

A very clear vision that sent 'Boss' reeling: Voldemort in a graveyard screaming, "he is mine!"

A pair of mental shields slammed down with such force that 'Boss' yelled in pain and the invasion burst into splinters. The blindfold over Harry's eyes exploded and he fell to the floor as the levitation gave.

"He's got someone else's shields! They'll know we're here! Get him out! Get out!" 'Boss' snarled, his face deadly pale behind his mask. "Sonorous-

"EVACUATE. NOW!" Whiny man took off.

Harry heard- he heard- Merlin, there were children crying in a room magic burst from him with such terrifying force that 'Boss' was flung into a nearby wall, his head smashing on the stone surface. Harry leapt to his feet and found that he was in what looked like a dungeon: a corridor with heavy-set wooden doors lining the walls. 'Boss', some disgusting burly man, was slumped over and unconscious, while Whiny man disappeared around a corner.

They'd even left his wand on him because they expected their modified memory charm to work.

The closest door was wrenched off its hinges and Harry stormed in to see a typical dungeon room. There were children-Merlin, they were so young, in their tattered rags-collared to the walls and there was nothing else in the room at all. Shouts burst out from the corridor outside where the hideous people behind this operation had no doubt began to flee.

Harry moved closer to the children and then such nausea overwhelmed him that he dropped to his knees and threw up. The children cried harder, but try as he would, he couldn't take a step closer without his mind and stomach absolutely roiling. What was it? A curse line? He searched in vain, aware of the pounding footfalls just outside. He had to get these children out. He had to rescue them.

It hit like a shock wave that the children were filled to the brim with Dark magic and due to his own Light, he wouldn't be able to step close. He'd hurt them, too, if he tried.

Harry was utterly useless because he was too 'Good.'

He tore out of the room, vengeance powering his feet, hurling binds at every running, mask man he saw. They went down with ropes holding them like planks. But the rest began to catch on, and he had to shield himself as he stood in the doorway of the chained children. He fought like a cornered animal, which he was, because he wasn't going to flee and leave these innocents-

In a glow of gold, his shield shattered. Harry went down as curse opened up his arm and began to gush with blood.

The ceiling also exploded. It wasn't one of those explosions where stone and dust rained down and crushed Harry. No, the entire roof blew sky-high like a volcano, so far that Harry could even see the blue.

He could even see a furious Tom Marvolo Riddle silhouetted by the sun.

Tom gathered a tornado around him as he descended, taking slow, measured steps towards Harry. The men around Harry cowered; or tried to throw curses, watched them get caught in the maelstrom and flung back, and then cowered. Tom made for a marvelous sight, really, with his black robes swirling around him. He looked like a force of nature. The wind seemed to caress Harry rather than bite, and soon he found himself staring up at blazing, grey eyes. A hand was extended to Harry, but he looked pointedly at the children collared to the walls and refused to stand.

He heard a very, very quiet "you must be fucking kidding me," before he was levitated into a bubble much like the one that had once contained Nagini. His limbs immediately felt heavy and he felt his wounded arm stitch itself back together. Then Tom walked over to the children, his tornado calming, and unlocked their collars one by one with a touch of his hand. It was definitely purposeful, how he went so slowly. The children, once free, rubbed at their necks with small hands and tried to totter after Tom. Their saviour.

Click. Went another collar. Click. He leveled a glare at the filth around him who were too frozen with fear to move.

"What were you doing here?" He demanded at the sick men and women and Merlin, Harry nearly shivered, because that was the voice of a Dark Lord.

"We- It was just a project for muggles." One woman said shakily.

"Magic resistance." Another man added, nodding with his eyes filled with fear. "We can offer our results to you, just please, spare-"

"Silence." Tom hissed and immediately every voice in the room fell quiet. "You dared work with muggles?" He asked, voice laced with contempt.

"Not with! We only imagined how we'd be compensated- It would've been a breakthrough!" A masked woman wailed, throwing herself onto the floor in a version of begging. "Please, have mercy-!" Tom's face twisted with such disgust that as he raised his wand, Harry already knew what words he was going to utter.

"Tom!" Harry cried. He was shot the filthiest look possible. "Leave them. Please." He added.

That glare could level mountains, but to Harry's relief, the wand lowered. Tom turned his furious gaze at his quailing audience and they trembled harder. The children clambered unsteadily towards Tom, one doe-eyed little boy going so far as to grab a fist full of Tom's robes.

With a crack!, they all disappeared.

Harry landed on a rather soft couch surrounded by children tainted by Dark. He prompted scrambled away and dry heaved, body wracked with shudders.

"Apologies." Tom said, sprawled across the sofa, revealing a hastily buttoned white shirt and slacks. The man tossed away his robes, watching Harry shake on his hands and knees.

"It's fine." Harry muttered in reply, standing slowly and finally observing his surroundings. They were in his office. "You put up Occlumency shields for me?"

"Someone unwanted could've stumbled over my identity." Tom frowned, a little girl wriggling into his lap and settling between his arms. The other children seemed happy using Tom's robe as a blanket. "And these children are a nuisance. Get rid of them." He said with a yawn, watching Harry's jaw drop. He raised an eyebrow in return. "I am exhausted. As much as you may believe otherwise, it is taxing to fly, concealed, to you and blow up some fool's base right after waking from a nap."

Harry'd just pretend Tom hadn't been napping in the middle of the day. "Aren't you worried about their magical resistance project?" He quickly scribbled a note requesting Robards and a meeting with all the Aurors. Then he sat back in his usual chair and watched the little golden dragon on his desk greet him with an eager flap of its wings. This was a serious case, much as Tom seemed to treat it otherwise.

"They can't do anything with it yet." Tom reassured him. "Their test subjects upstairs still dropped to heavier spells such as the Unforgivables. And they didn't seem strong enough to upset your stomach."

"Upstairs?"

"You were in a dungeon underneath the warehouse."

"Bloody hell, Tom…" Harry groaned, "I feel like I should be concerned with how you dish out the Dark like that."

"Fight fire with fire. But I could use muggle weaponry, if you wanted. I've had practice." Tom said lightly, watching as all the children curled up around him. "These children are positively oozing. It's certainly making me doozy. Come here, you little brat." He said to a blonde little girl with shining eyes. She just tilted her head at him and didn't register the insult.

"Why the children?"

"They'll grow up resistant if this magic in them," he patted the girl's bushy head, "is allowed to fester any longer. You were right to take them. I believe the way this works is that an individual is dosed in magic so vile, so utterly putrid, that all other spells shy away. This means when applied to an adult, their natural magic attempts to leave."

"They become squibs?"

"And worse." Tom nodded. "You saw them. Their bodies attempted to expel their natural magic. The two would've also clashed."

Harry could only shudder. "I bet you've come across this before."

"I have. Predictably from some old hag's tomes." It was an odd sight. Tom, the once-Dark Lord, seated on a couch surrounded by napping children, casually discussing his previous escapades with the man who allegedly destroyed him. "It wouldn't have interested me."

"I don't think these kids will be squibs, will they? Otherwise they could've just kept using their… men." Harry grimaced.

"Hard to say. It's likely that they've experimented on the children so the darker magic won't clash as violently with the natural, still-developing magic. Perhaps it'll adapt to co-exist with the added Dark so that the child will still be a wizard. Perhaps not."

"Imagine that… they'd break wards. They'd break everything. They'd step into Hogwarts and the castle'd bloody crumble."

Tom nodded. "I was still able to apparate them, because my magic is that dark. But they'd be raised to use muggle weaponry to a high standard and no other wizard would stand a chance unless they used magic as vile as the children's own." Tom's eyes darkened. "The repercussions would be quite formidable." They would be. The Ministry… bringing up miniature Voldemorts? Letting Aurors, or any sane people wield that sort of weapon?

"But either way," Tom said, drawing Harry's attention again as he stretched his long legs, raising his arms around the children. "I will nap now. I expect these children to be gone when I wake. Baptised, thrown in some sort of supreme cleaning ritual, I care little." He fixed Harry with a surprisingly serious look. "Just don't let them be used. I'm the only Dark Lord allowed in your life."

The issue was, as Head Auror Gawain Robards stood in the doorway of his office, that no one other than Tom could pick up the children. And of course, that raised questions about Tom's identity. Harry swore violently as he watched the whole lot of them snooze away on his couch. He was going to have to burn that piece of furniture later.

He knew that, the thing was, Tom was going to have to handle the children sooner or later. That fact was always going to get out because they trusted no other Dark wizard. Not that he… trusted Tom. The bloody man had his head tilted back and was lightly dozing. But any other Dark wizard might just turn tail and flee. They'd hold up the child like a shield, melting all the hexes flung after him. Harry could just imagine that disaster.

"Robards." Harry said tiredly. He had half a mind to drop off just like Tom, but (unfortunately,) he was an Auror with a job to do. "I'm going to have to ask you for a favour before I debrief you with anything. Please don't arrest this guy." He pointed at Tom.

Robard's eyebrows climbed into his hair.

"He's an… acquaintance of mine. I owe my life to him today, so please don't throw him in Azkaban because he's a bit dark." Not that Azkaban could hold Tom. Not that Tom was 'a bit' dark.

"I'll take that into account." Robards said, nodding and striding into the office, pausing in surprise. "Huh. I recognise one of these kids. I've been up to my neck in missing reports trying to hunt him down."

"You probably have, yeah." Harry groaned. "Did you call for an emergency debrief? Also, can you try pick up one of the kids?"

Robards stepped closer and almost immediately froze. "Merlin, what's been done to them?"

"A lot of Dark. It'd be great if we could take one of the kids with us, but I'm not volunteering to wake T- Marvolo up."

"Marvolo Slytherin?" Well, Robards certainly read the Prophet.

"Yep, that guy. Can we get going?"

They left Tom behind and locked the office, striding down the hallway to the meeting room. There was another issue, Harry realised, and it was that the kids wouldn't be able to leave the Ministry unless Tom apparated them out. But then he'd reveal that he was powerful enough to do so. What a mess.

"My colleagues," Harry said, standing at the head of the table in the meeting room with twenty or so heads turned towards him. "Earlier today, four of our number were dispatched on a small mission that probably seemed like nothing at all. Three of them," he nodded at Ron, "would've returned without a hitch. But there is an issue. Their memories have been modified."

Noise immediately broke out; Harry held up a hand to silence them. "However, whatever memory charm that was used is dark enough to need some Legilimency as well. And I - I happen to be an Occlumens. So I managed to escape with this Dark group's most precious prize. Children. Seven of them, to be exact. Seven, magic-resistant, children."

This time he had to wait a whole minute for them to settle down, but he could see expressions ranging from shock and excitement to solemnity. "They are Dark. You probably won't be able to step close." He said firmly. "And they'll unravel anything that you throw at them, even-"

magically locked doors.

He knew he arrived at the same conclusion as Robards when they suddenly locked eyes.

As if on cue, the meeting door swung open and a tiny blonde-haired girl tottered in, covering her mouth as she yawned. The Auror closest to the door positively yelped and flung herself out of her chair. The child caught sight of Harry, brightening, and tried to approach him.

He was on the other side of the room. This was a disaster, oh Merlin, no one could stop the child on her warpath. The Light wizards covered their mouths and backed away. Harry saw Proudfoot actually pass out in his chair. He really, really needed Tom right about now.

Tom appeared in the doorway just as Harry was about to collapse in distress.

"I loathe children." He said, drawing the attention of every person in the room. Even the little girl, who thankfully switched course and went to sit at Tom's feet.

Every Auror eyed Tom like he was a demon, but Harry definitely saw a blush on a few cheeks at Tom's ruffled attire.

He burst his charming image a moment later. "If you can't get the Dark out of them, I'll kill them." He looked down at the little girl, who demanded to be picked up. Harry was two seconds away from clawing his hair out because Tom was not meant to say things like this. He caught Ron's eye, who was looking like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You know that they're too dangerous to have around. And who would handle them?" Hoisting the child into his arms, Tom gave a dry little laugh. "Me? Surely not a Dark wizard like me. Besides, they'll grow too uncontrollable for magical society."

"If they even live through this." Harry choked out.

Tom nodded in acknowledgement of Harry's words. Most Aurors looked like they had accidentally swallowed their tongues. Then Tom paused and looked out into the corridor where Harry would bet his life savings that more of the children had escaped. "If they touch the elevator, anyone riding it's going to fall to their death." He said calmly. One of the Aurors jolted upright at those words and looked like she wanted to run outside to detain the children. "You can't touch them, remember?" Tom sneered at her, turning away. "I'm locking the seven of them in Potter's office. Deal with them. If you can't, I'll Avada the lot."

"Wait!" Ron shouted. Tom stopped and shot him a dirty look. "You'll be helping us?"

"If you ask nicely." Tom said shortly, sweeping out the room.

"Well." Robards cleared his throat in the silence that ensued. "The first thing we'll need to do is track down this Dark Arts group and find exactly what they've done to the children."

"Yeah, about that…" Harry grimaced. "You might want to look for a warehouse that's been blown up from inside out."

"Blimey, Hermione, you should've seen him. I honestly dunno if I should be horrified or what. This is the bloody Dark Lord, this is Lord Voldemort, and he's standing there, talking to Aurors about killing children!"

Harry had thrown etiquette to the window and was slumped over his living room couch in a pose reminiscent of Tom, whereas Hermione and Ron were still actually sitting upright. Draco had fallen asleep beside Hermione.

"Tom is a walking disaster." Harry agreed. "He just… does what he wants and no one can stop him. And the worst thing is that most of the time he's actually reasonable."

"Harry," Hermione frowned instead. "You said you told them you were an Occlumens. I thought your Occlumency wasn't, you know, very good."

"Yeah, I wondered about that too." Ron piped in.

"Uh- yeah, they weren't my shields-" Harry began, but Ron drowned his out with his laughter.

"At this rate, Merlin, you might as well just resign! Give your position to the Dark Lord. Here goes Harry Potter, letting Voldemort become an Auror." Shaking with laughter, Ron tried to pull himself together, face falling. "Blimey, I don't know how I'm dealing with this so well. It's easier to think of him as, like, a joke... than think of him as the guy who killed so many of us."

Hermione reached over and squeezed Ron's arm, her expression also sombre.

"You haven't met him yet, Hermione," Harry said, "but it's actually really hard to associate them to the same face. He's still rude. He still orders people around. He still talks about throwing around the Unforgivables. He blew the entire dungeon out of the ground, but what's important is that he didn't kill point his wand at someone grovelling at his feet and yell avada - well, he was going to - but he did stop. It is honestly a lot easier to just think of him as a different person."

"But he's not, and that's the problem." Hermione assured. "Why were people even grovelling at him in the first place?"

"Well, he shredded the entire warehouse to pick me up when he felt someone hit the shields. They pretty much all dropped to the ground and kissed it when they saw that. He just- he's bloody unpredictable. He does what he wants. He says what he wants-" Harry gave up and groaned.

Hermione and Ron shared a glance in private and pretended the description didn't fit anyone else they knew.

If it were possible, Harry would've drowned in paperwork. He shot a glare at Tom who was laid across the couch, children clambering around him. That man certainly wasn't helping. Harry flipped back to one of the pages that described the little boy currently sitting at the foot of the couch. Bob, he had been named by his orphanage. With brown eyes and brown hair and a sad little smile.

His parents said they'd never had a child.

Harry had never heard any of the children laugh or speak. He'd only heard them cry that first day in the dungeons.

"How can you hate kids?" Harry asked from behind his tottering stack. "'specially these kids." Ron had temporarily moved out to a different office, so nowadays Harry was alone, facing the devilish, devilish dark.

"I hate children." Came the flat reply.

"I thought you'd have some sympathy for them, or feel just a bit more because… you know, because you were…" He trailed off at the look on Tom's face, suddenly feeling like a huge, lumbering idiot. "Okay, never mind, I'm sorry, that was- that was just plain horrible of me to say."

"Considering you know my childhood so well, you must also recall how children were my first victims." Tom said coldly.

Because he had suffered so much cruelty at their hands. Cruelty that he later turned against the world. "Sorry." Harry blurted, because he could think of nothing else to say.

Tom dismissed him with a snort, but he seemed to relax a fraction. "From what I've read of those papers, most of these children will die. Or suffer great pain, and then die."

There was something in his tone that Harry couldn't quite pick up.

"In that case, I hope you can find a different Dark wizard to euthanise them. But we both know that won't happen. Fate, as ever, spites me."

Harry, although he did not voice it, agreed. Tom would have to kill the children. He could feel it in his bones.

Tom couldn't run from Lord Voldemort.

The children were being screened in some odd glass chamber. Word hadn't gotten out to the public about the children yet, despite months having passed, but a good number of Aurors, Unspeakables, and other Ministry members had come to observe the proceedings. They sat in chairs watching through a glass wall.

Harry looked up at Tom, who was too mighty for chairs and stood leaning against the wall, watching intently. The man's hair fell in its usual delicate waves, framing his deceptively soft face. Harry had a good view of that neck and jawline from here… unfortunately, he barely recalled King's Cross by now. All that skin had been a wonder to behold. Tom seemed to notice his staring, catching Harry's eye and then snorting. They both turned back to Bob in the chamber.

A spell that Harry recognised as Imperio dissipated a metre away from Bob. They'd requested Lucius in to do this. Harry wondered if the man felt offended or flattered. Either way, it couldn't have been easy, walking into the Ministry with angry eyes following him all the way. Lucius so far had been able to touch the boy and not much else.

There was a flash of green light. Harry wasn't the only one who leapt to his feet and shouted. The witches and wizards around him cried out in indignation.

Bob-!

Didn't die. The little boy just turned his big brown eyes up towards the white-haired wizard. The observers into the room scribbled away furiously onto their clipboards.

Harry looked up at Tom again and the man's face was frighteningly blank.

"Do you think the swooping sound that Avada Kedavra makes is Death approaching?" Harry walked into his office, takeaway in hand.

"Curious question." Tom was at Harry's desk, scratching the little golden dragon's head. He hadn't given any gifts to Harry in a while. Not since he stopped the letters. Harry wondered, vaguely, if Tom had given up on his courting endeavour. "But what would that imply about Death's form? However you see Death, do you think he, or she, would swoop?"

A skeletal stag… "No, probably not. It'd be more like my dead patronus coming for me, which is really quite terrifying." Harry snagged Ron's now-empty chair and sat across the desk from Tom, casting a glance at the couch where the children were reading. There was a huge stack of books that Tom ate through everyday. "How'd you get them all to stay on that poor sofa?" One of the boxes he was holding disappeared to land in front of Tom.

"Magic." Tom answered without looking up. He held up a hand and wriggled his fingers, the other opening the box and conjuring a fork. "I believe my image of Death is a rather common one. A skeleton with his robes and scythe. A reflection of how I felt about him, I expect, considering I viewed Death much like everyone else did, merely to a greater degree." Tom snorted. "Next time I expect he might look a little different."

"Next time…?"

"Of course I am going to die." The statement was said casually as Tom popped a cube of carrot into his mouth and chewed, delicately swallowing. "We're quickly approaching three years since we've stood by the trains. I know he can pull me back at any time, and he will. That doesn't mean I'm happy about it. But it will happen."

Harry just looked at him with wide eyes, then soundlessly dug into his own dinner.

Tom laughed, pointing a fork at Harry, and said: "'who is this man, and what has he done with Tom?' Personally, I don't know. Perhaps I've only become more insane than before. Voldemort, at the very least, could be summed up in simple words."

"Flight from death." Harry mumbled through his food. "Obsessed with fleeing Death. A primal desire to be at the top, because at the bottom, it hurt." He'd definitely given it thought before.

Tom tilted his head to regard Harry, eyes flashing. "That's correct. Now Shacklebolt pulls the Ministry up from the sewers, Death sits upon my shoulder, and I'm no longer fool enough to run. Dumbledore is long gone and I am the most powerful wizard there is. What is there left to do, but woo you?"

Harry choked and spluttered. He thought Tom had given up on that.

"Now now, Mr Slytherin doesn't do dates, nor gifts, nor romantic letters." Tom mocked, his infamous smirk reappearing. "What Mr Slytherin does do, however, is barge in on his beloved's-"

"-Don't call me that, that sounds so wrong, Merlin, never say that again-"

"-office and sit there all day, merely because he can."

"Are you going to trail me around work all the time, too?"

"Perhaps." Tom said skewering a potato with a thoughtful frown. "You haven't taken anything quite so serious since the children, but somehow I don't think you'd appreciate me hovering behind you all the time."

Harry gave Tom a relieved smile. "You're right, actually. If you want to follow me when it's not dangerous, the only way you'll do that is by registering as an Auror-"

"Go risk your life on your own." Tom said in immediately, and Harry could only laugh.

"Hey Tom, are you sure you don't want to be an Auror? Maybe you'd actually start helping with some of this paper-"

"No, Harry."

"How about a hit wizard? They're-"

"Harry, I only interfere in your job when the situation is dire. Your paperwork isn't threatening your life."

An alarm blared by Harry's bedside and he shot up out of his dream so quickly that his head spun. The Ministry was under attack? Merlin, what time was it?

Crack!

His vision was suddenly filled with a certain Tom Riddle that grabbed his arm and apparated. He landed awkwardly, Tom supporting him, his insides still roiling after being brutally squeezed through some space-warping tube.

"Tom, what, you couldn't have let me grab a robe-" Tom's robe was around Harry's shoulders in an instant. They were, as usual, in Harry's office. Tom waved and the robe buttoned up, and the two of them began to cast enchantment after enchantment at the door.

"There's no doubt what they're after." Tom murmured, warding the entire room. "These little trouble-children." The children, who had been dozing on the couch, began to open their eyes as Tom and Harry cast. Harry's office was already incredibly secure, coated by the Ministry's strongest wards, but obviously Tom was one hell of a paranoid man. For one, why was he even dressed at this time of night? Harry didn't even have time to give Tom his usual once-over as he tried to layer yet another ward.

"Do you think you could apparate me out? To fight? You can stay in here and look after the kids." Tom's eyes darkened and he scowled, but he still obliged, wrapping a hand around Harry's waist and pulling him flush before apparating once again. Harry felt, oddly enough, something bruise his hip as that happened.

They appeared midair but before Harry's feet could touch the ground, Tom jerked him back into his arms so they were simply hovering.

The corridor was void of people, but laden with small, round disks.

"Explosives." Tom hissed. "And they reek."

"Of Dark?"

"Yes. They're unstable, they'll-" There was movement down the one end of the corridor-

There was a supernova.

-his guts were twisted into that tiny tube once again. They apparated in just in time to watch the dark mines blow and their wards shatter. The office heaved; the door flew off its hinges but ("protego!") shattered against Harry's shield. The children were crying and screaming. Tom cussed violently and "accio'd" them, trying to get them into his arms so they could bloody flee, but they had jammed themselves into the filing cabinets and under the desk-

Another one of those disks rolled into the room. Tom shouted a shield that Harry had never heard and a dome of solid darkness engulfed the bomb, buckling when a sun went off within.

A man with a enormous tumor sprouting under his eyes lumbered into the doorway, followed by another, and another. The children cried out, Tom whirled around and screamed an "Avada Kedavra!" and one of the bodies dropped, but it was pushed forwards as more and more flooded the room. Dark-robed wizards slipped in with them and Harry took aim, but the spells shied away once they came too close to the deformed, brain-dead men. He reached for one of his drawers filled with enchanted blades instead, but the wizards put up their own shield.

One of the children, the one whose file called her Violet with her bushy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, screamed a cry of pure pain. Harry watched as her skin-

He looked away and was fully prepared to cast a killing curse when a new, foreign sound joined the fray.

Bang! A body hit the floor. Bang! The robed wizards dropped one after another.

Something smacked into the side of Harry's head and he realised Tom had lobbed a muggle handgun at him. Tom had a gun, and the men were dropping like flies as he fired.

Harry had no idea how to wield the muggle weapon. Instead, with their wizards dead, Harry could finally throw knives and watch them sink into the skulls of the deformed men. He and Tom worked like the killers they had abruptly become, the children cowering in the corner, until they cleared out the room and subsequently, the corridor.

Robards and the other Aurors chose that moment to apparate in. Harry trembled on the spot and Tom disappeared into Harry's office, treading over the bodies, emerging a second later with the blonde-haired girl in his arms.

Harry crumpled.

Tom laid her down in silence, returned to the room and no, no, no, emerged holding another lifeless child. This little boy with his wild black hair didn't even have a file. He'd never have a name. Harry had just taken the children for granted. He didn't think they'd die so soon!

"Their accidental magic." Tom explained to the crowd of Aurors that stood in watching in stunned silence. "With the emotional turmoil, their magic lashed out and so it reacted with the Dark magic within them."

Harry reached out a hand and found that he could draw nearer, closer to little Violet, because the Dark beneath her skin had died with her.

"They died ordinary children." Tom stated flatly. "Perhaps your Ministry was too cocksure of its own defences."

One of the Aurors growled right back at Tom. "I don't know who you think you are, Dark wizard, but you ain't got no right to be here, criticising-"

Tom sneered, his fury building. "They could not apparate directly into the office while holding the arms of their Dark men because I put up wards-my dark, dark, horrible wards. Pardon me if I did not see to every single room in your Ministry.

"It must be painful for you all, knowing that the only one guarding these children, the only one preventing the collapse of your fragile society is a horrendous Dark wizard."

Another Auror stepped forwards, apologising for her co-workers brashness, but Tom's scathing words were already in full swing.

"It must be so painful that not one of you took initiative to think and train yourself with a weapon!"

In a heartbeat, Tom had his gun's barrel pointed right at the Auror, Savage, who had spoken to him before. "I've said once that if I needed to, I would kill the children." He said coldly. "I have changed my mind. Find your culprits or I will find them, tear out their insides, and then ensure that every single one of you meet the same fate.

"You are a Ministry of Magic. Not a Ministry of Light. Shun the Dark, and you'll find yourself a half of a whole."

"Marvolo," Harry finally said, tiredly, holding Violet's cold hand. Tom glanced back at him, slowly withdrawing his gun and slipping it into a holster by his belt.

"Harry," Tom replied cooly, approaching him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"This is a chance to prove you're still worthy of those five children's lives." Tom called to the Aurors watching them, and then with a final glare, they disapparated.

Ron couldn't say he was surprised when he floo'd into Harry's and saw Tom Marvolo Riddle at the kitchen table, furiously drinking tea. He didn't even know someone was capable of drinking angrily, but hey. "Hi, uh- Is Harry home?"

"Yes." Tom replied curtly. Just in time, Harry busied in, carrying several cups of coffee.

"Ron!" Harry beamed, but then his smile faltered. "What's it like in the office right now?"

With a quick glance at resident thundercloud, Ron said: "How do I say this… Well, Savage tried to get Tom arrested. I punched him." Tom snorted loudly at this. "And Robards sent us both home. Aside from that, everyone's running around like the dickens because you two seriously freaked them out. Kingsley's been dragged into this as well. They've got a room that uh, they're wondering if you can ward up." He addressed the last sentence towards Tom, who simply set down his teacup with a sigh and disapparated.

Tension drained out of Ron in an instant. "Blimey, Harry, I thought he was going to curse Savage's balls off."

"Tom would've done worse than that. Ron, man, take a seat."

With a sigh, Ron slumped over the table. "Why's he so angry? It's terrifying, is what it is. Is it 'cause those kids died? I didn't think he cared for kids."

"No, it's not. I'm guessing he's angry at himself because he didn't make his wards strong enough; honestly, we didn't know they were bringing resistant people in and we trusted what the Ministry had already put up. It's not about the kids... well, not for their sentiment. They died and that meant he lost in this battle. Tom hates losing."

"He seemed pretty mad at the rest of the Ministry, though."

"Yeah, well, someone could've come along and given us a hand, and maybe the kids wouldn't have-" Harry faltered, feeling his throat constrict. "It's over now, anyway. Tom's going to ward them in with high hell this time. No one's going to lay a hand on them anytime soon."

It was not the most pleasant thing to wake up in the morning to realise someone else was sitting at the foot of your bed.

"Merlin's knickers-! Tom!"

Tom squatted there, swaying slightly, black hair looking tousled. "Tabitha died." He said, watching Harry's face. "Sometime in the night her magic flared."

Harry turned over to bury his face in his pillow. Sure, he didn't personally know the children, he hadn't even been able to touch them, but their deaths were to be grieved anyway. They were casualties of twisted experiments. They had been snatched out of their homes for a sick future, and none of the bloody Healers or Unspeakables had found a cleansing ritual potent enough to free them. Several months had gone by, and nothing had seemed to have helped.

"You're hiding your face from me." Tom said somewhere over his shoulder with a frown. "I understand that you need to grieve. Yes. Although I myself am not crippled by those emotions, I understand that others are still afflicted."

He crawled up the bed to reach out and pat Harry's hair slightly stiffly, missing and hitting Harry's shoulders. "Dear dear." He said with the slightest slur yet depthless sarcasm. "I'm sure it's all very sad. Children are dying. They must be incredibly innocent. What a crime. All these poor, poor-"

In a flash, Harry felt his rage surge at Tom's sheer insolence, his dismissive nature and his- his- Harry launched himself at Tom, hands outstretched to strangle before his mind could even register the action. "Just because you had a bad childhood! Shut your-"

His wrists were stopped with barely a blink. "Emotions." Tom shook his head. "Calm, Harry. Calm."

Although his indignance flared higher at the easy dismissal, his rage seeped away as he noticed someone else. "Tom… are you drunk?"

"I was entertaining a lady guest. She followed me after I stepped in to confirm Tabitha's death. She spiked my drink."

"You took it?" He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice.

"I transfigured her into a pot plant and then took it anyway to prove that I could, yes. Did you know you can apparate whilst drunk? You ought to try it sometime, Harry. It feels-"

"You are the oddest drunk, Tom." Harry commented, sitting back and sliding back beneath his covers. He wasn't allowed to take his rage out on drunken people. That simply wasn't fair on Tom.

The man smiled crookedly in return. "It is strange. The world slurs, yet whenever someone moves to hurt me, my senses seem to sharpen." Then Tom flopped onto Harry's bed, despite a yelp of complaint, curling up into a small ball. He reminded Harry, quite distinctly, of a cat.

"You're going to wrinkle the hell out of your shirt." Harry said after a moment of silence. Then there was the sound of shuffling and a white shirt landed on Harry's face. "That's not what I- Bloody hell, Tom." Tom snuggled under the blankets, his body like a furnace against Harry's own. Occasionally Harry's arm would brush against that smooth back, that expanse of skin, and his breath would catch.

Curse Tom and his beauty.

"I upset you when I mentioned the children." Tom said abruptly. "Do you like children, Harry?"

"...Yeah." He replied, feeling quite odd. "Look, just- don't talk about dead kids, okay? They don't deserve to die."

"They do." Tom sounded somewhat insistent, pressing his face into the pillow. "Children are some of the cruellest people I've ever met. They torture for entertainment only. Worse than Bellatrix. At least once upon a time even she had morality. Children… they never. Not until people teach it to them and brainwash them."

"You said you didn't have morality a while ago, Tom. Are you trying to say you're a child?"

"Remember King's Cross?" The image of a broken infant in his arms flashed before Harry's eyes and he closed them for a moment, taking deep breaths. "I think in the orphanage they locked me in a cupboard, Harry, and I never got to grow. Not once in seventy years. It's strange to stretch my limbs now, if just a little."

"Yeah," Harry whispered hoarsely in reply. "It would be… Merlin- Tom-" He was choking up, what the fuck. How was he getting so emotional? He was stupid, and Tom was drunk.

There was a hum. "Mmm?"

"You're just another one of those kids. Like Violet, yeah? And Bob. And Tabitha. They were just unfortunate. So were you… you didn't deserve to be locked in that cupboard."

"Maybe, Harry. Maybe. I thought for a long time that the only way I'd tolerate children was if I had any. Would a family do any good? But pssh. Riddle Senior shattered that." Tom seemed to wrinkle his nose in disdain. "There's only one person I'm fond enough of to try build any sort of family with, but I wouldn't ever want children. They'd die. Children die. I wouldn't want our children to die, so they shouldn't be born."

Harry paused, his heart seeming to twist in on itself because he couldn't have heard what Tom just said. That was definitely not what Tom had meant. "You're drunk, Tom." He said gently. "Go to sleep."

Tom seemed to have no objections to that, tucking his legs up closer and closing his eyes, letting his breath settle into a gentle rhythm of dreams as the night ticked on.

Harry lay in silence, unable to sleep for a long time, until he finally murmured: "I was in that cupboard too, Tom… but… I had friends that let me out."

"The Ministry finally did their jobs." Tom strode into the office. It felt devoid of life, now that the children had been relocated. Ron still hadn't moved back in, so Tom's thick tomes had started invading the desk opposite Harry's. A heavy wad of papers landed in front of the Auror who had been diligently scribbling away.

Harry looked up, pausing in his work. "Did you steal these?"

"Of course. Now open it up."

Pages and pages on certain Dark wizards and their experiments in the most wicked arts known to man. Their possible headquarters. Their actions and their relatives, what deeds they had committed to summon magic darker than even horcruxes. Harry flicked through the pages, skimming.

"I once read somewhere that horcruxes were the darkest there were."

"You must've read a rather outdated tome. Did no one ever explain to you the ever-changing nature of the Dark Arts? They grow fouler as humanity broadens its horizon for atrocity."

That's right, a certain Severus Snape had been fond of doing so. "Well, Tom?" Harry stood from his desk, eying the file that listed several possible locations. "Do you want to come and Gryffindor this with me?"

"What will you do if I say yes?"

"Charge in." Harry grabbed his robes from a hook on the door.

"If I say no?"

"Charge in."

"And I'll be dragged in nevertheless, because you will find yourself surrounded."

"Are you appreciating my Slytherin cunning yet?"

"My dear," Tom smirked, "if you want to bring me into this battle, I will request something from you, too."

(Except Tom was really far more cunning, because in bringing the papers to Harry, he must've known Harry would've leapt into action.)

"I'm not going to enslave myself to a life of a teaboy-" He broke off as Tom took one of his hands, bringing it up to his lips.

"There is a Ministry ball in two weeks. I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, am inviting you to attend with me." Soft lips brushed against his skin and-no Harry, no, think about the children you're about to avenge rather than that mouth. "It's not actually an invitation." Tom said, snapping Harry out of his trance as he straightened and dropped the hand. "This is a demand."

"I- yeah, okay, sure, let's just… go arrest some Dark wizards now." The full grin that Tom gave Harry made him a little weak in the knees.

"No killing?"

"No." Harry said firmly, picking up his composure. "No thoughtless murder, Tom."

The smirk this time was a little more sinister. "If you wish."

Harry couldn't believe they'd turned it into a competition. Tom had imperio'd every Dark wizard he'd come across and told them to march out and line up. In the meantime, Harry had bound them and stunned the restrained bodies.

(But both of them, raising handgun barrels, had put down every pained, disfigured man they'd stumbled into. Sometimes they'd even begged for death.)

Harry's line was marginally longer, totalling fifty or so, but then more of Tom's wizards under imperio appeared from the building they'd been ransacking and just, just caused Tom's numbers to bump up higher than Harry's.

"I swear you do these things on purpose." Harry told Tom as Tom finally emerged from the building, levitating a huge stack of papers after him.

"I won? Charming." Tom smiled. They stood before a great large warehouse in the middle of nowhere. "Now, pick up a bound man and walk three hundred paces." The Dark wizards and witches lurched and began to move. "Do the honours, Harry?"

Tom wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him to his chest and then leaping so the two of them floated up into the air. The bundle of papers hovered after them. Harry glanced back to where the influenced men were a good distance away and pointed his wand towards the building. This was it. He muttered only a small incendio, but that was all they needed. A spark. They had rigged up the entire place as they cleared it out.

The warehouse burst into flame. The pyre looked suspiciously like the Fiendfyre that crackled the day Lord Voldemort disappeared from the Wizarding world.

With an enormous grin, Tom aimed a hand up at the sky and yelled:

"Morsmordre!"

He tucked Harry back close against him, so Harry felt rather than heard his laugh. Tom had them pressed together flush; it seemed more like an embrace than anything. "I'm going to drop these papers off on Robards' desk," Tom whispered into his ear, his voice still heard above the flames. "And then I am going to teach you how to dance until every witch and wizard that dares lay their eyes upon you envies me."

Harry turned so he was face-to-face with Tom, instead. He'd always wondered if Tom's eyes were grey, or simply a very, very light blue. They were like the sky, mixed together in some sort of heady cocktail, and in that moment they reflected the leaps of the Fiendfyre. His own arms snaked around Tom's waist. "I think you've got it the wrong way around, Tom."

One of Tom's hands reached up to thread through black, wayward hair. "Is that so?" Tom purred, his eyes alight. Tom leaned closer until their breaths mingled and Harry's heart leapt in his chest. Finally, he thought as his eyes fluttered shut, finally-

Crack! The first Aurors started apparating onto the scene and they jerked apart, Tom disapparating in an instant, landing in Robard's thankfully empty office, tossing the papers aside onto the desk. With another crack! they appeared in Harry's apartment, still holding each other.

Tom pulled away, leaving Harry bereft, an infuriating smirk in place. "Now, I am going to teach you to dance. There are to be no distractions." His eyes landed on Harry's lips. "So do not tempt me."

To his eternal frustration, Harry had never quite disappeared from the public eye. The Prophet always wrote about him, witches always fawned when he made a public appearance, and it was all quite infuriating, really. He had an incredibly inflated image to live up to.

Tom had them in the usual black and white dress robes, nothing fancy, and he'd almost look like every other face in the crowd. Maybe he'd get a few less photos that way. Except, of course, he was walking with Tom Marvolo-bloody-Riddle, diva queen. He watched as practically every lady turned when Tom passed by. Tom, with his depthless grey eyes, with his beautiful head held high, and his way of walking that simply swept across the foyer of the Ministry. Tom went around on his own, introducing himself as Mr Slytherin and probably charming the pants off quite a number of people.

Harry was distinctly aware of the eyes that followed when Tom finally, finally, returned to him.

Harry was talking with Mrs McGonagall when that happened.

Oh Tom was a demon and a half, he was. He was a right nuisance- "A pleasure to meet you," Tom smirked with a bow, meeting the eyes of the Hogwarts Headmistress, "Minnie. I didn't think you'd be one for events like these."

Her eyebrows had shot right up. "To-"

"Come, Harry, let us dance." He said instead, outstretching a hand for Harry to take. "Have a good night, Minerva."

That was Ginny in the crowd, Harry noticed as Tom took led him around Ministry's foyer. Far too many heads followed them as they danced. He wasn't sure if this was because they were both men, or because Tom's dancing would draw anybody's eye. Oh Merlin, Harry had never told anyone aside from Hermione and Ron exactly what Tom had planned for him, and imagine all the Weasley's horror when they saw him flounce their daughter for the now-snarky, insufferable, once-Dark Lord. Why did this happen to his life- he blamed it all on-

His thoughts were wiped away as clean as a slate as Tom tugged him close and kissed him. He was dimly aware of cameras going off somewhere, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. There was only Tom's mouth on his own and the world ended there. He gripped Tom's gorgeous hair and tried his damndest not to moan in front of all the crowd.

And then Tom bloody slipped away, disappearing into the throng of people with a laugh and apparating with a very loud crack, leaving Harry slightly aroused and mostly annoyed.

If Harry woke up the next morning to find the Prophet had their pictures all over every page and were speculating the Slytherin who could apparate in the Ministry, who cared? He banished most of the Howlers that dropped in. And if Draco Malfoy sent a letter…

...I must congratulate you. My father fainted at the kitchen table.

Well, that was just downright hilarious.

A week had passed, Harry had still been dreaming about Tom's kiss, but then someone had kicked a hole his door. That someone had also hastily reparo'd it and then actually walked in by turning the knob.

"Lexus died." Tom announced. "So did Gabriel. There's only Bob now."

Harry just groaned. "Merlin, save their souls." He paused, feeling like he needed to say something far more sentimental but finding that his mind really wasn't up for the task. "You know, Tom, you make me feel like a horrible person. You catch me when I'm just waking up, tell me children have died, and I honestly don't know how to feel about it anymore. On one hand… their suffering has ended. They're not going to be used anymore. And at least they died quickly and suddenly. On the other hand…"

"You're sympathetic for their existence. Not for their deaths." Tom told him, sitting down at the foot of his bed. "And it's not true that they're dying quickly and suddenly."

"What do you mean?" That sentence caught his full attention, now.

"I assumed you'd want to come see Bob off." Tom said, stroking Harry's foot through the blanket.

"What? No, I thought you said Bob was still alive-"

"He lost use of his legs a two weeks ago. One week, his arms. Today, he's started screaming. They've been feeding potions directly into his bloodstream. I received a letter this morning." Tom suddenly looked away.

Harry knew what the letter had contained. "You know, one of us could… throw a… knife… at-"

Tom cut in. "He isn't actually mute. He asked for me, apparently."

Harry dropped his head, slowly swinging out of bed in reluctance to accept the new day. His limbs felt like weights, because… this was the end. There was no more hope for the children. No more wishing they'd be cured.

"I'll meet you downstairs." Tom said, more softly this time. "And then we'll go to the room I've warded up in St Mungo's."

The hospital ward was all white, where Bob's hair and eyelashes seemed like a stain against his pale skin and pale blankets. A single window gently illuminated his face. Harry could almost pretend the boy was sleeping peacefully.

Harry and Tom weren't the only ones to say goodbye. Others from the Ministry, some that had worked so hard for a cure-they lined the room like shadows, and made way for Tom. Even Harry didn't stand by his side: he stood beside Ron. He was only a spectator, after all. Tom walked to the foot of Bob's bed alone.

Every eye was watching him. Just like when he had once been a Dark Lord… every wizard would watch him execute.

Bob opened his dark brown eyes to fix them on his killer. (Merlin, he looked like a young Tom. Back in the orphanage, with a rabbit hanging from the rafters…)

The room was silent.

Avada Kedavra would seem too harsh in the silence. Too brutal, too abrupt, too heinous to consider. Even nonverbal, it would not be fitting. A flash, and then it'd be over: all strings cut, and then the puppet would crash to the ground.

So something else burst from Tom's wand.

Harry saw a stag of bone flickering with the green of his eyes. Ron saw a gleaming Grim. Others saw skeletons, and some just saw a bright, bright, flash. But all knew exactly what they were seeing. Death approached the boy, slowly-as Death tends to do-and took one pale hand.

And then Bob's chest stopped moving and his eyes did not see.

The silence was broken: a hush started up and some bowed their heads in mourning. Others turned for the door because they had been hoping, maybe the killing curse would falter on the child again. Tom tucked his wand away. His here job was done. He left as if nothing had happened at all, the wizards and witches parting for him.

He was halfway down the corridor when Harry caught up to him. "Tom!"

"Whatever sentiments you are thinking of spouting can die on your tongue now, Harry." Tom said without slowing his pace nor turning to look at the other man. "I do not need to hear them."

"No, seriously, Tom-"

"If you believe I need comforting, you are severely mistaken. You forget that I pointed my wand at you when you were much more younger and much more helpless." They reached the empty elevator and stepped in, Tom jabbing a button to the ground floor before anyone else could join them.

"It must've been difficult-"

Tom hissed. "You forget who I am."

Harry grabbed Tom's arm, and before it could be wrenched out of his hold, he spun Tom to face him. Blazing grey eyes glared back at him. "What I'm trying to say, you stubborn bloody arse, is thank you."

Tom's face held a mixture of irritation and anger. "I do not require your thanks-"

Harry pulled him down into a gnashing kiss, pressing Tom against the wall of the elevator. He kissed with a flame, because Tom was bloody irritating and stubborn but, Merlin, he could actually feel remorse somewhere in there, deep under the walls he'd built to keep everything out. As Tom's startled hands came to rest against his waist and in his hair, the kiss melted into something more smoother and slower.

Harry needed to get closer. He couldn't get enough of Tom. He needed, needed-

With a crack, they landed in his bedroom, stumbling towards the bed and slipping their hands beneath each other's shirts. Harry's fingers traced Tom's lithe back, from his spine up to his shoulderblades, gasping as Tom moved from his mouth to his neck.

He waved a hand and suddenly it was all delicious skin on skin. Tom's touch was everywhere: a tongue circling a rosy nub, soft hair brushing against his chest, a hand intertwined with his own, another hand reaching down, down, to take Harry into his firm grip and cause his lover to groan.

As the two thrust and curled around one another, gasping one other's names with each roll of the hips, somewhere far away, deep in the Department of Mysteries, a prophecy shattered.

Time passes in an instant.

"So I'm stuck forever as a twenty-year-old." Harry said, running a hand through his hair in distress. "Because I had sex with you."

Tom had the gall to sound amused. "I'm simply that good."

Harry sat rather nervously across Robards, who took his time filling a form and placing it aside. The Head Auror sighed, flicking his wand and watching the paper zip away to slot in his filing cabinet. "Harry," Robards began, finally looking up at Harry. "You should know that I'm retiring this year."

"Oh!" His eyes widening in surprise. "We'll miss you, Robards, you've been great, you really have." Harry babbled. Robards stopped him with a hand.

"What I'm letting you know, Harry, is that I intend for you to take my place."

Although he had been suspecting it (Tom had been crowing it in his ear for months), Harry gaped anyway.

Robards stood from his seat, smiling and offering a hand. "To a better year, Head Auror Slytherin."

"It will be called Beef's orphanage."

"No."

"Think about how much I hate Wool's. Beef is perfect."

"Tom."

"Be realistic, Harry. Not one wizard will be happy growing up in a place called 'Slytherin's' orphanage."

"There's no way I'm calling it Beef's."

They called it Beef's.

Tom knew that when he died, he could say perfectly honestly that he'd only been drunk once in his life.

Everybody else was slightly tipsy, if not slurring and wobbling everywhere. It was a Malfoy Manor party, and no one hadn't failed to notice that Lucius was suspiciously absent, still too afraid to show his face. To be frank, he'd probably feel a little traumatised if he saw Tom sitting in their living room where he was now, with Harry draped all over his lap.

"Hah!" The miniature Malfoy crowed. But he wasn't the smallest Malfoy now. They'd had a son. "Father'd definitely aneurysm if he saw his former boss and my classmate snogging."

"You better get him in here, then," the Weasley slurred. "It'd pro'lly be better if we all saw him to an early grave." Then the Weasley was distracted, because his girlfriend pulled him away to a quiet corner.

Well, Tom didn't need to watch them. Malfoy and Granger (he always did privately call them by their surnames, despite their insistences otherwise) held their liquor a little better, unlike his own husband who had been reduced to a puddle. He patted Harry soothingly.

"Some of the students, honestly." The witch, the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, said. "Did you know someone blew open the girl's bathroom trying to get into Slytherin's chamber of secrets? It turned out to be a Hufflepuff."

Tom nearly choked on his wine.

"I seriously need you or Harry to teach and do damage control. We were considering adding Dark Arts to the curriculum with all the new revamps going on in the Ministry... Tom, would you be interested?"

He hummed, actually finding the idea quite appealing. He'd worked as an Unspeakable for a bit, but his interest had quickly tapered off. "I might. Tell me, what would it involve?"

He applied the very next year.

Harry had approached Tom a few times over the months, years… the decades, the century, about having children. Tom had refused every time, and as Harry stood beside him and held his hand at Molly's, Arthur's, Lucius', at Narcissa's, at Hermione's, at Draco's, at Ron's, at Ginny's-

at all their funerals,

he had understood why.

Scorpius Malfoy stood at King's Cross, waiting for his grandson to appear. The boy's father was busy on an emergency call from the Ministry, and so Scorpius was going to have to endure his grandson's ramblings all throughout the journey home. Oh, how long it had been since he'd stood here, eager for his first day...

One of the first things the sixth-year laughed about was the fact that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and the Dark Arts professor were married.

"I don't believe saying 'I regret their deaths' will make you feel any better." Tom murmured, gently slipping an arm around Harry's waist as he approached. "But I do, even if only because they hurt you."

They stood over Dumbledore's grave. Flowers covered every inch, now. The castle and its life, all the children running around in the corridors, all its little joys and adventures... seemed an age away. Here there were the chirping of the birds and memories from a war long gone.

"Actions count." Harry said instead, turning to meet Tom's lips in a brief kiss. "Every time I wondered if I'd stop and really consider you different, I thought about that snapped wand. You proved you could do right that day."

Tom tucked himself closer. "For the millionth time: thank you." He breathed, with all the world's love in his voice, "I didn't think I deserved that chance."

Together, they gazed back over Albus' tomb.

"It's about time we headed home, Harry." Tom said, the saddest smile upon his lips. "You know that we'll see that old man soon enough. In due course."

Before they died, they asked to have a place in Hogwarts. And so three white tombs stood to mark three of the greatest wizards ever to be.

Sometimes Death would even stop to visit them, Life by his side. Harry used to see them as stags: one dead, one alive, the kings of the forests. Tom would've seen Death as an old robed man, Life a newborn babe in his arms. Dumbledore… who knew what he had seen? Perhaps Death as who, Gellert-?

-and Life as two young men, laughing their last laughs as they pulled each other, hand in hand, aboard a train that led into the endless tunnel and into a world beyond.

Fin.

(Maybe in their next world they'd be somewhere else, someone different. Hadrian Black or Hariel or not there at all. But this journey-this one, where they died in peace, together-had come to an end.)