Part Six

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Present Day

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Both Harry and Tom are curled up on their couch together, watching their fireplace as it dances and flickers. It is Tom's birthday today. They had spent most of the day out again: breakfast with the students, lunch with Ron and Hermione, and dinner at a private reservation Harry had booked for them at Tom's favourite restaurant.

"Are you ready for your gift?" asks Harry.

"I do think I've been very patient while waiting for it," Tom says.

"You have, actually." Harry cocks his head to the side, smiling. "So thank you for that."

Tom leans over and kisses Harry's forehead. "Anything you give to me is worth the wait."

"You're a sap," says Harry, and then goes to stand. "Let's go."

"Go?" Tom asks, bemused. But he allows Harry to grab his hand and pull him towards the door.

Harry tugs his Invisibility Cloak off of the coat rack on his way out, gesturing for Tom to pull close so he can drape it over both of them.

"People will see our feet," says Tom. "I can just cast the invisibility spell, if you like."

"Shush," says Harry. "You're ruining the moment."

Tom mimes zipping his lips closed, and wraps an arm around Harry as Harry tosses the cloak over them both. Indeed, their feet, ankles, and part of their calves are visible beneath the hem of the fabric. Harry watches as Tom stretches his right foot out and rotates the ankle, likely to make sure his point about the feet is very clear.

"You're just too tall," Harry complains.

"I thought I was ruining the moment with talking," Tom says sardonically.

"I'm trying to recreate a memory, Tom. Shut up. You were a tall git back then, too."

Tom gives Harry's waist a squeeze, and then they are slowly navigating their way down the corridors of Hogwarts. They head down a few flights of stairs, towards the center of the school. Harry can tell when Tom realizes where they're going, because Tom inhales rather sharply.

They enter the second floor girls' lavatory, the one situated right above the Great Hall.

Harry walks them right up to the sinks then stops, pulling the cloak off of them both and tucking it into his robes.

"Okay," says Harry. "Now open it."

"Bossy," says Tom. But he looks over at the snakey tap anyways and hisses, "Open."

The secret passageway reveals itself as the sink shifts down into the floor. Harry peers down the dark tunnel, which is still spooky, but is now also much, much cleaner than it had once been. If it wasn't for the poor lighting, the tunnel might have even been shiny.

"Not to ruin the moment," Tom says, "but how did you even get in here to plant my present if you don't speak Parseltongue?"

"Erm." Harry looks faintly embarrassed. "I just sort of, you know, mimicked you a bit. It took me a few tries, but I got it eventually."

"Oh?" says Tom, interested. "That I would like to see, very much."

"Another time," Harry says hastily. "Let's go show you your present."

Tom waves his wand in a gentle motion and levitates Harry down the tunnel. Then he steps down himself, floating slowly until he reaches the bottom.

"Show off," says Harry fondly. Then he takes Tom by the hand again. "Come on, this way."

"I know where the Chamber is," Tom says, still amused, but also faintly curious.

As they walk, candles flicker to life on both sides of the corridor. Tom peers at them, taking in the sight of their shining silver holders. "You remodelled," Tom says in wonder.

"I should have blindfolded you," Harry mutters. "Yes, I remodelled."

They continue until they reach the snake-accented door, where Tom hisses, "Open."

The Chamber reveals itself—the cavernous room is now lit on all sides by floating candles. The original floor has been replaced by polished black marble, and the old, rocky walls have been cleaned and ground down to a slick smoothness.

"I thought you ought to be able to use the place that's your birthright," Harry says softly.

There are a few tall, cherry wood bookcases lined up between some of the snake-adorned columns. Though the shelves are mostly empty, there are a few things resting on them. A statue of a snake and a statue of a lion sit on opposite ends of the top shelf. Harry had picked them out specifically to represent him and Tom. There is also a framed photograph of the two of them at their Hogwarts graduation, and another photograph of them from their wedding. Lastly, the gauntlets they had finally gotten off of Sirius' hands sit in a clear glass case on the top shelf of the final bookshelf.

"I would have moved some of our books in here if I hadn't thought that you would notice that they'd gone missing."

"I would have definitely noticed," says Tom. "Harry, this is incredible. I don't know what to say."

Tom wanders past the bookshelves, taking some time to examine the objects resting on the shelves before moving on. At the end of the chamber, the statue of Salazar Slytherin has been shrunken down and placed as decoration atop a roaring fireplace.

"That statue was a piece of history," Tom says absently.

"It was ugly and obtrusive and the product of Slytherin's egomania," says Harry, but he's truthfully rather nervous about Tom's reaction. For a long while Harry had gone back and forth on the idea of removing the statue, because while the statue was most definitely a part of the history of the chamber, it really had taken up a lot of space, and it made no sense as a part of a room that Harry meant for Tom to use regularly. Shrinking the entire thing down and placing it on the mantle had been a way to compromise between the historical and sentimental values that Harry wanted to preserve.

"Oh, definitely," says Tom, jerking his gaze back to Harry. "This is much cleaner and more attractive."

Harry rolls his eyes, but follows as Tom walks over to the two green armchairs that are facing each other in front of the blazing flames.

"Well?" asks Harry. "Does this measure up to your idea of aesthetically pleasing design?"

"It does," Tom says promptly. "It ticks all the boxes. I can't believe you put so much time and effort into this, Harry. How long did this take you?"

"I haven't even shown you the best part," Harry teases. "Come over this way."

Tom takes Harry's hand as they proceed over to the study area Harry had set up for Tom's personal research. There is a high-backed leather chair and a large, minimalist desk resting upon a dark grey rug. The lamp sitting on the desk has metal snakes wound around its base, and there is a little metal quill holder embossed with the Slytherin coat of arms.

"For my research," Tom acknowledges, smiling. "You do think of everything."

"Nope," says Harry. "Still not the best part." He tugs Tom over to the cabinet that sits a few paces behind the desk chair.

"This looks familiar." Tom runs his hand down the front of the cabinet, and then looks up at its strange, pointed top.

"It's a Vanishing Cabinet," Harry says. "I noticed it sitting on the first floor of Hogwarts in our second year, but I didn't know what it was then. I'd nearly forgotten all about it, too, until we went to Borgin and Burkes a few years after we had graduated, looking for your mother's locket. The twin of the Hogwarts one was there, but I still didn't pick up on it right away. Remember how Borgin said that it was broken?"

"Yes," says Tom. "He said that the cabinet it was connected to must have been damaged."

"That was because Peeves dropped it in a hallway to distract Filch that one time we we'd been out after curfew," Harry says sheepishly. "The cabinet got moved, somehow, into the Room of Requirement. I hadn't even meant to go looking for it, but—um."

Tom raises an eyebrow at him.

"I was just trying to escape some of our students on Valentine's Day," Harry says hastily. "I was worried they'd try to offer me lube or something again."

"I'm actually rather offended that they offer you these things and not me," Tom says. "Am I not as approachable?"

"That could not be more besides the point."

"As long as they're intending for us to use it together, I really feel it's not that big of an issue," Tom says thoughtfully. "It's flattering that they're so invested in our marriage."

"Back to my point," Harry says loudly, "which is that I don't think I would have remembered the cabinet at all if it hadn't been for my Auror Occlumency training. But once I saw it again, I knew I had to make sure that it was the right one."

"So you went back to Borgin and Burkes," Tom says, narrowing his eyes. "Without me."

"Tom," says Harry. "I can handle myself in Knockturn Alley."

"That doesn't mean that I have to like it," Tom says stubbornly. "It's a dangerous place, Harry."

Harry sighs. "It went just fine. It took me a while to talk Borgin down on the price—I tried to convince him I wanted it for you as a gift purely for the research value. You probably would have done a better job haggling than I did, but eventually I got him down to something reasonable, mostly because he knew there was no other way he would be able to get rid of it."

Tom creaks the cabinet open. The inside of it is pitch black.

"I had Sirius and Hermione help me figure out how to fix it," Harry adds. "It was difficult because I couldn't move this cabinet out of the chamber once I'd put it in here—it would have been too difficult to get either them in to look at it properly without you noticing. So it took me nearly all year to fix the Hogwarts one, working just off their written instructions. But now we have this one in here connected to its twin, which I put into our rooms so we can go back and forth."

"This is ingenious," says Tom.

Harry blushes. "So it's good?"

"It's more than good," Tom says, whirling around to face Harry. "It's absolutely phenomenal. I never would have thought to find a way to utilize this space—it is so difficult to access that I had never considered it worth the effort. But you, Harry, you are perfect and you never fail to astound me."

Tom's hands grasp Harry's elbows, drawing him in. He is so delighted, so animated in his excitement, that there are faint splotches of colour on his cheeks as he gazes down at Harry. The most beautiful smile is curling Tom's lips, one that even wizarding photographs cannot truly do justice to.

"Happy birthday," Harry says, elated.

"You are the best thing in my life," says Tom, and then he leans in and plants multiple kisses on Harry in quick succession.

Harry drapes his arms around Tom's neck, curling his fingers into Tom's soft hair. " Happy birthday," sings Harry, quietly and only minorly off-tune. His voice echoes softly throughout the chamber. They sway slightly, and eventually the only thing keeping Harry upright is the steady presence of Tom's arms sliding around him.

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Four Years Ago

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Ron and Hermione had given birth to a happy, healthy baby girl. There had been zero complications with the pregnancy, and both sets of grandparents had been absolutely ecstatic. The new Granger-Weasley could have been described as the spitting image of her mother—if Hermione had been born a fair-skinned, red-haired baby.

After the initial crying and congratulations had concluded, Hermione had passed the child to Harry.

Harry had held his goddaughter very carefully in his arms, worried that if he so much as shifted his hold by a millimeter, something would go horribly wrong and she would cry. Tom had stood close by Harry, his chest pressed against Harry's back as he, too, looked down at the small, pink-faced infant.

"Her name is Rose," said Hermione, her face glowing with unadulterated happiness. "Rose Harriet Granger-Weasley."

There had been a pause as the name sunk in. "What?" said Harry, bewildered. "You can't do that."

"Harry, you're ridiculous," Tom muttered under his breath, which Harry ignored.

"It's our kid," Ron said stubbornly. "We've already named her, so there's no changing it, mate."

"Well, erm—" Harry had fumbled for the right words, then settled for simply saying, "Thank you."

Baby Rose had then twitched her nose in her sleep. It had, quite possibly, been one of the most adorable things Harry had ever seen in his entire life. Even Tom, who was usually inclined to restraining his facial expressions, had been gazing down at Rose with an atypical amount of fondness.

"Ginny is the godmother," Hermione said, still smiling, but her next words were solemn, "but should something ever happen to Ron and myself, then Rose will go to you both."

Harry had both heard and felt Tom's sudden intake of breath. Handing Rose back over to Ron, Harry had then reached backwards for Tom's hand, holding it tight. "Nothing will ever happen," Harry said firmly. "But we'd be honoured all the same."

Tom had remained uncharacteristically silent as baby Rose continued to sleep. They had all been quiet as they gazed at Rose's peaceful face. Harry had a hard time imagining her looking any other way than she did right now, tiny and round-faced in Ron's arms.

Then Tom had spoken suddenly, his voice tight: "Rose will grow up with both her parents and her godparents." The words had rung clearly through the air, like magic itself had sealed his promise.

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Present Day

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Tom had conjured a giant cork board, which he had set up next to his new research desk in the Chamber of Secrets. The one week deadline that Tom had originally promised Harry had run out, and Tom had returned to his vigilante plotting.

"You know," says Harry, watching Tom as he works. "When I originally came up with the idea for using this Chamber, it wasn't intended to be the Voldemort equivalent of the bat cave."

"Don't compare me to Bruce Wayne," says Tom absently. He's in the middle of tracing all the confirmed sightings and known locations of the smugglers that had attacked Ron.

"Right," Harry says teasingly, "you're much better looking than Batman."

Tom huffs and finally looks up at Harry, who is perched at the end of the overly-large desk. "Are you here to help me or distract me?"

Harry quirks his head to the side. "Both?" But he obligingly slides off of the desk and moves to stand next to Tom. "What have we got here so far, then."

So Tom explains, and Harry manages to follow all of it more easily than he thought he would. There are patterns to the complex webs of trade routes and the scattered storehouses. Harry points out what he can based on what he remembers from his time in the Auror Corps, and also makes a few intuitive suggestions. Tom has two new parchment rolls full of notes by the time Harry's done consulting.

Harry perches himself back on top of the desk, watching Tom's brow crease as he re-reads one of the parchment scrolls.

"I'm getting you glasses," Harry says. "You need glasses."

"Don't be ridiculous," Tom says. "Batman doesn't wear glasses."

Harry plants a kiss on the top of Tom's head. "I'm going to get them for you, and you better wear them, or else I will be very, very sad."

"This is blackmail," says Tom. "Emotional blackmail."

Harry is not moved by Tom's stubbornness. "You're always squinting! Either you're going to start using glasses, or I'm going to go to the Hospital Wing and ask Hannah to brew you the corrective potion, and then you'll have to drink that daily. Is that what you prefer? Because I'll go up and ask Hannah right now."

Tom scowls. "I'm only thirty. I don't need reading glasses."

"You spend practically half the day reading students' homework, scholarly articles, and weird ancient books. And most of the time you don't read with proper lighting, which only makes it worse."

"You wear glasses," Tom points out.

"It's hereditary," Harry says, even though he's not entirely sure whether or not that's correct. Tom likely doesn't know the answer, anyway.

Tom stares obstinately at Harry for an entire minute. Harry does not blink.

"Fine," says Tom. "But they better be attractive glasses, or I will set them on fire."

"Draco's rubbing off on you," says Harry, and then dodges with the practiced reflexes of a Seeker as Tom tries to chuck a crumpled piece of parchment at him.

"I'm going to strangle you with that hideous quilt Sirius sent us," Tom says.

"Sent you, for your birthday," Harry says cheekily, and then is forced to dodge again as Tom sends a flock of conjured birds in his direction.

Some days later finds them back in the Chamber, where a second cork board has joined its predecessor. Tom's been running himself all over the castle all week, quite literally. He has been teaching daily classes, plotting down in the Chamber, writing up his latest research on Gryffindor's gauntlets, and managing his additional duties as Head of House Slytherin. Harry's beginning to get worried about his husband stretching himself too thin.

"Are you sure we can't just leave this to the Aurors?" asks Harry.

"Of course not," Tom says. "There's no sense in waiting for them to do something that I can accomplish more efficiently."

"You're the History of Magic Professor, Tom," Harry reminds him. "It really isn't your responsibility."

"I'm much more than just that," says Tom, but he sounds slightly detached as he speaks. "I killed Bellatrix Lestrange. She'll not be hurting anyone's families ever again."

Harry eyes Tom for a moment, considering.

"We're very safe here, Tom, you know that, right?"

Tom deliberately looks over at the cork boards instead of at Harry, and that's how Harry knows he's on the right track. Walking over, Harry pulls Tom's chair backwards despite his husband's protests, and tugs on Tom's hands until they're both standing together.

"We are going to go sit down and talk about this now," Harry says firmly. "And you are not allowed to go back to work until I am satisfied that we've talked it out properly."

Harry walks them over to the large, comfy armchairs by the fire. He sits down in one of them and drags Tom over as well, so that Tom is half-sitting on top of him.

"Are you quite sure this isn't just a ploy to get me onto your lap?" asks Tom, half-heartedly.

"I am quite sure," Harry says. "Now, you're going to tell me what's really driving you to do all this." Truthfully, Harry thinks he actually has a fairly good idea of what it is now, because he knows Tom.

"I told you," Tom says. "Someone needs to stop these people. I don't mind doing it and I'm very good at it. It makes the most sense for it to be me."

"Doing it and running yourself into the ground over it are two different things," Harry says pointedly.

When Tom doesn't respond, Harry sighs.

"Let me tell you something," says Harry. "I wouldn't have minded being a professional Quidditch player, and I would have been very good at it. But that's not what I chose to do. Because I love you, and I love our friends and our family and our students. I wouldn't have time for any of the other things I love if I was off flying around the world playing Quidditch. So I chose to teach here at Hogwarts, because the people I love and the things I love doing are all right here. You know I love our life together, Tom. I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. So I choose to stay." Harry gently places his left hand against Tom's cheek. "Does that make sense?"

"Yes," says Tom grudgingly.

"So," Harry continues, "tell me why you're really doing this."

Tom closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Harry waits patiently, stroking the pad of his thumb delicately across Tom's cheekbone and down his jawline. The fire next to them hisses and spits embers quietly into the silence.

Then Tom finally opens his eyes, dropping his gaze to the Weasley jumper that Harry is wearing.

"I'm scared," Tom admits quietly. Then, as though that admission has released something locked deep inside of him, he breathes out the rest of his words in a rush. "I'm scared something will happen to you, or Hermione, or Ron, or Rose, or Sirius, or one of the Weasley spawn, or Neville, or Luna, or even—Merlin's sake—Draco Malfoy, and it will all be due to the fact that I could have done something to stop it and I didn't."

Then Tom takes Harry's free hand in both of his own. He's holding it so carefully, like he expects Harry's hand to break if he grasps it too tightly.

Tom adds, in a shaky whisper, "I couldn't take it if someone died, Harry. I couldn't accept that."

"Oh, Tom," says Harry, his heart breaking. "That's not a burden for you to bear."

"I couldn't," Tom insists, and Harry can tell that he's trying very hard not to cry. "I couldn't. Especially not you, Harry, I would—I would rather die than lose you."

"I know I can't promise that nothing will happen to me," Harry says, after a pause. "There's too much that's unknown for me to able to do that. But I promised you forever, remember? Whatever happens, wherever we go, I will always be by your side, Tom, because you will always have a home in my heart, even if it stops beating. The love I have for you is so powerful that even death couldn't keep it from reaching you."

Tom shivers, turning to press his face into the crook of Harry's shoulder. So Harry wandlessly summons the terrible, colourful patchwork quilt that Sirius had sent for Tom's birthday, and then drapes it around them both.

"Why no one calls you the bleeding heart Gryffindor between the two of us," Harry murmurs as he holds Tom close, "I'll never know."

Following Tom's admission, everything had gone back to normal. At least, as close to what was considered normal for the two of them. Harry had continued to help Tom track the smugglers, and Tom was no longer working at a pace that would run him into the ground. Tom had also grudgingly begun to wear the black, half-frame glasses Harry had picked out for him.

Sirius had sent them multiple letters from Alberta, Canada of all places, complaining bitterly about the cold.

"Maybe we should send the gauntlets to him," Harry jokes.

"Do not tempt me," Tom says. "I would do it if you let me."

The two of them sit there for a moment. Tom continues to write in his diary while Harry watches him.

"Okay," says Harry. "Let's do it."

"Really?" asks Tom, looking up.

"Really," says Harry.

So Tom and Harry had spent the next three hours figuring out not only how to transfigure Godric Gryffindor's gauntlets into regular-looking mittens, but also how to keep the Transfiguration sustained for the entire journey to Alberta.

Two days after that, Remus sends them an owl containing a letter from Sirius that is filled with a lot of creative expletives.

"Why is the owl from Lupin?" asks Tom.

"I think Sirius was only able to manage the one owl since his hands were occupied," Harry says. "So of course he went to bother Remus first."

"Hmm," says Tom. "I suppose we should send him the instructions for getting them off."

So they sent off another owl with Tom's instructions for removing the gauntlets. Harry had expected that they would get a response via owl in a few days at the most, so he and Tom had planned to spend the rest of their Saturday lazing about and marking papers. Unfortunately this was not meant to be, because shortly after four in the afternoon they received a Floo call request from Sirius.

"Hello?" Harry says tentatively into the fireplace. He and Tom are both crouched down in front of the Floo, where Sirius' face is now appearing.

"The gauntlets set my bedroom on FIRE!" Sirius yells out immediately upon seeing them. "The whole entire bloody thing was on fire, and even Aguamenti wouldn't put it out!"

"Interesting," Tom says, summoning his quill and parchment from across the room. "How exactly did that come about?"

"I was staying in a Muggle hotel," Sirius says, but he doesn't really sound that mad. "And now I'm going to get banned from Canada for life by the Canadian Ministry for Magic. All because you two sent me those blasted gloves!"

It turned out that casting Banishing Charms repeatedly on the gauntlets would, in fact, charge said gauntlets up with magical energy. This charge, once it had reached a certain critical level, would then discharge in the gauntlet's form of choice, which just so happened to be extremely powerful magical fire that was immune to Aguamenti.

"How did you eventually put the fire out?" Tom asks interestedly.

"Well, after trying Aguamenti a bunch of times, I switched to the Aqua Eructo Charm, but that still didn't work, so then I cast the Ebublio Jinx to protect myself, only then my entire room was encased in a giant water bubble!"

Tom jots that down. "And that put the fire out?"

"It choked off all the oxygen! So yes, it did put the fire out," Sirius says. Then he narrows his eyes. "I cannot believe you are writing all this down. If they revoke my travel papers, I am coming to stay with you in your rooms, and you will never know a moment's peace ever again."

"Be careful what you wish for," says Harry.

"If you think you can handle another prank war between us," Tom says idly, "you're not going to like the results, Black."

"I am no longer enjoying this conversation," says Sirius. "I am hurt and offended. I'm going to call Moony and drag your names through the mud."

"You do that," Tom says, "and then send me a very detailed report of what happened with the gauntlets, Black, I want a timeline of everything starting from when you put the gauntlets back on, so I know exactly how you—and there he goes, he's gone."

"Thank Merlin," says Harry. He leans back from the fireplace, sitting down on the thick woolen rug. "I think my knees are about to give out. We really ought to put some cushions here or something."

Tom snorts at him. "Come here, you ridiculous man." He pulls Harry over, so that Harry is sitting between Tom's legs as they both gaze into their now empty fireplace.

"If Sirius really does get kicked out of Canada," says Harry, "he is absolutely going to try and move in with us."

"Oh, I know," says Tom, reaching around so that he can lace their hands together. "But I don't think it would be that bad, really. Sirius is family."

Harry feels himself being warmed up from the inside out at Tom's words. "You know what, Tom? I think you're right," Harry says, smiling. He leans back against Tom's chest, knowing that the strong, steady beat of Tom's heart is more present now than ever.

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Ten Years Ago

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"Did you ever imagine we would end up here?"

He and Tom had been lying in bed together, the rest of their wedding clothes strewn out all over the floor around them. The fireplace had gone out long ago, but Harry found he was too comfortable in Tom's arms to care much about starting it back up again.

"Do you mean here, married? Or here, in bed?" Harry asked, tracing out slow circles on Tom's collarbone with his index finger.

"Here, in general." Tom had a faraway look in his eyes as he gazed up at the ceiling. "Together."

Harry had sat up so he could see Tom's face properly. "If you hadn't asked me out at the start of our fifth year, we still would have ended up together," he said decisively.

Tom's eyes had flickered back to Harry. "You think so?"

"I know so," Harry said firmly. "We were plotting together in the library at all hours for the Defense Club. You showed up to every single Quidditch match I played in even though I know you think Quidditch is boring and you hate the outdoors. I took Ancient Runes in third year just so we could have an extra class together. So yeah, I'm pretty sure I would have done something about all the feelings between us if you hadn't."

"I don't hate the outdoors," said Tom.

"And," Harry added, ignoring the petulant comment, "I would have taken you home with me for Christmas that year regardless of whether or not we were dating, because I didn't need to be your boyfriend to know that I cared about you, Tom."

Tom's face had flushed then, and though it was not the first time it had done so all evening, the sight of it had still sent warm fuzzy feelings all throughout Harry's chest. So Harry had laid his head back down upon their shared pillow, determined to soak up every last bit of pure contentment from this moment.

Eventually Tom had spoken again, the words passing through his lips so slowly that Harry could feel the vibrations from them where they were pressed close together. "Of all the lives I could have imagined for myself," Tom said. "This one is more exquisite, more perfect than any of them could have ever been."

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Present Day

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"Do you have everything?" Hermione asks worriedly. "You have the toys bag, and the books I picked out?" She's wearing a long, shimmery golden gown, and her hair is done up into curly tendrils that cascade down her back and shoulders. Her earrings are also gold, and have tiny little stars floating around them. Next to her, Ron is clad in dark grey dress robes with matching gold trim.

"Yes, Hermione," says Harry patiently. "We have all of the same things you gave us last time, and we have the books. If there's anything else, I'm sure Tom and I can figure it out ourselves."

Rose is currently sat on their couch while Tom shows her a large picture book on dragons. The two of them look quite content and cozy together, just like the family that they are, which makes Harry feel indescribably happy.

"Well, alright," says Hermione. "If you're sure."

Ron, who is still holding Hugo, chuckles lightly. "It'll be fine, Hermione. You worry too much."

"I know it will be fine," Hermione says defensively. "I trust Harry and Tom. I just don't want any unnecessary trouble if it can be avoided, that's all!"

"Da," says Hugo, his thumb in his mouth. Hermione reaches over almost immediately to extricate it.

"We're just leaving you with Uncle Harry and Uncle Tom for a short while, okay?" Ron says to his son, bouncing Hugo up on his hip slightly. "Your mum and I will be back very soon, and it'll be like we never left!"

Ron then tries to lift Hugo away, but Hugo doesn't budge an inch.

"Don't want you to go," Hugo says. He scrunches his face up, clinging even more as he plants his face against his father's neck.

"Hey, Hugo," Harry says gently. "It's alright, your dad's not going for very long. Your mum has left some fun games for you and Rosie to play with, and we're going to eat all your favourite things for dinner."

Hugo makes an unintelligible noise into Ron's shirt collar. "Don't wanna."

Tom stands up, leaving Rose with the dragon book, and walks over to them. "Hello, Hugo," says Tom kindly. "Do you remember me?"

"Unca Tom," Hugo says confidently, peeking his head up momentarily. His thumb, already on its way back into his mouth, is this time intercepted by Ron.

"Yes, that's right." Tom smiles widely. "Now, Hugo, your parents are going out to a very important event, where your mother is going to get a nice, shiny award. And then, once they're done, they will come back to show it to you. Your mother's worked very hard for her special present, and she should be able to go get it, don't you think?"

Hugo glances over at Hermione, who nods patiently. "I get to see the present?" he asks.

"As soon as I get back," Hermione promises.

With a hopeful expression, Ron attempts to hand Hugo over to Harry again, and this time he is successful. Harry wraps his arms around Hugo, knowing that the little boy is still feeling insecure about his dad's time at St. Mungo's, and waves goodbye to Ron and Hermione as the two of them step back into the Floo.

"There," says Tom, stepping over so he's in Hugo's field of vision. "That was very nice of you, Hugo. I'm sure your mother is very happy."

Hugo sniffs a little bit, but he seems fairly content as Harry rubs at his back.

"Can we watch a movie?" asks Rose.

"Erm," says Harry. "We don't have a television here at Hogwarts, Rosie. But we can do anything you want with magic?"

Rose thinks that over for a moment. "Can you make a unicorn?" she asks.

"I can make a toy unicorn," Harry offers. "But I think your mum already packed one of those in your bag."

Tom, who is poking around in said bag, withdraws two long stuffed snakes. "Ha," he says, triumphant. "Look what we have here."

"Snakey!" says Hugo, reaching over Harry's shoulder towards where Tom is standing.

Tom freezes, and Harry has to forcibly restrain his laughter at the look on Tom's face.

"Snakey!" says Harry cheerfully, walking Hugo over so the boy can snatch the bright blue snake out from Tom's hands. "He's a very cool snake, isn't he?"

Hugo is in the middle of wiggling said snake all over the place, which means thumping its head against Harry's back. Tom shakes himself from the horror and shoots Harry an unimpressed look.

"Should have known that Ron would find a way to make me pay for giving his children snakes for Christmas," Tom says. He hands the remaining snake, a bright orange one, over to Rose, who immediately drapes it around her neck like a scarf.

"Yep," says Harry. "You really should have."

"What's for dessert?" Rose asks. She's sitting back on the couch, and the book about dragons is open on her lap.

"Chocolate lava cakes," Tom says promptly. Harry had let Tom pick out the dessert for tonight, because he knew that Tom would enjoy being the one to overindulge the kids.

"Lots of sugar," Harry reassures both children. "Just make sure you remember that your uncles spoil you the best."

Rose grins, displaying the one little gap in her two rows of white teeth as she bounces on the couch. "Chocolate!"

Eventually, after an exciting evening of stuffed animals and sugar, both children are put to bed. Tom and Harry, both exhausted, slump against each other on the couch.

"Who knew being parents was so difficult?" Harry asks rhetorically. "I mean, we've babysat before, but it was a little different this time, I think. Hugo's still a bit off because of what happened to Ron, so he was more clingy. But you were really great at handling him," Harry adds.

It had been quite the challenge to put Hugo to bed—the little boy had insisted upon bedtime story after bedtime story, until his eyelids had drooped so much that Tom had finally put his foot down. Harry, who had been watching as Tom continually caved to Hugo's wide-eyed requests, is incredibly charmed by the way Tom handles the kids.

"You did a wonderful job, too," Tom says, yawning. "You'd make a wonderful father."

That comment reminds Harry of an errant thought he'd had a few weeks earlier. "Tom," says Harry. "I know Sirius is always bothering us about this, but do you think we'll ever have kids?" The idea of the two of them as parents seems more real now, with Rose and Hugo both soundly asleep in their guest bedroom.

Tom looks thoughtful. "I'll admit I haven't thought much about that. Do you want children?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admits. "I don't really see us taking care of a baby." An infant wouldn't really fit in with their lifestyle, and Harry's not sure if he'd want to commit to looking after a fussy, squalling infant.

"I don't either," Tom agrees. "But I wouldn't be opposed to, say, the adoption of a child."

Harry smiles knowingly, lolling his head back so he can gaze fondly at Tom. Nineteen years later, and Harry might know Tom better than anyone else in the world ever will, but Tom also knows Harry just as well. It is because of this that Harry understands exactly what Tom means, and he knows that both their desires are aligned in this.

"A lonely orphan child that needs a home?" asks Harry.

"Oh, something like that," says Tom, and the loving look he gives Harry in return is absolutely dazzling.

.

Nineteen Years Ago

.

Tom Riddle had been sitting alone in his train compartment on his first train ride to Hogwarts.

He had found his way onto the platform after careful observation of the other families of witches and wizards, and had tried his best to blend in with the crowd. There had been a plethora of other children milling about on the platform, so Tom had chosen to board the train early in the hopes that he could avoid having to socialize before he had his bearings under him.

Tom had been well aware that he was already at a disadvantage; he was an orphan, had no knowledge of this world, and was described by other children as 'off-putting' at best. But Tom could do magic, he was a wizard, and he knew he had the potential to be special, if only other people could finally see it too.

The train had only just pulled out of the station when two boys came bustling by, just outside Tom's compartment. They had stopped next to his door, clearly peering in to see if the space was occupied. One of the boys was ginger, but the other had a messy mop of black hair.

Tom had watched them glance at each other, and had then prepared himself for disappointment as they inevitably continued walking to go sit somewhere else.

Then the black-haired boy had slid the door open and stepped inside. His eyes were a bright, startling green, and he was wearing dark, round-framed glasses.

"Hello," said the boy. He had smiled brilliantly at Tom, as though he was excited to see him. "Do you mind if we join you? My name is Harry Potter."

.

The End

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A/N: thank you thank you thank you a million times if you read this story until the very end. i have so much love for this universe in my heart, and i'm so happy that you all chose to complete it with me.

special thank you to hannah (waitingondaisies), who inspired me to write this 37k word monstrosity. this fic would not have been born without you.

i want to add this is not the end of this universe. i will be revisiting it with one-shots in the future. if you would like to read more of this tom and harry, please feel free to check my profile for updates.

lastly, if you read this story and liked it, i would appreciate even just a comment with a heart emoji to let me know!