Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, they all belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

"What do you think of going to the beach, kiddo?" Tom asked the little six years old boy who was sitting by the table having breakfast, his feet swinging lightly since he did not reach the ground.

"I think it's a good idea." He answered after drinking from a cup of milk, cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. His grandmother Mary passed behind him, messing his hair affectionately, smiling when he shook his head to get away from the gesture.

"When do you plan to go, Tom? Right now?" She asked her son who was drinking tea leaning against the wall, observing the boy eating.

"Oh," He looked at his mother at the mention of his name. "Yes. I will just wait Tommy end here, and then we will head to the beach. It is making such a nice day, after all."

"Yes, it is." Mary agreed, going to the fridge and opening it. "Just make sure you both will be back by lunch time. Your father says he has a surprise for Tommy."

The boy, who didn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation, looked up at the new information.

"A surprise?" He repeated, jumping on his seat excitedly. "What is it grandma? What? What? Tell me!" He demanded, making Mary laugh at him. The woman approached him and kissed Tommy on the cheek.

"It's something you'll like, baby. But you'll just find out when grandpa comes back from the town." She answered. Tommy's face fell.

"Oh, come on now, little man. You'll have a good time with me on the beach, and when you realize it, it will be already lunch time." Tom said, leaning to take his son's dish and cup to put them on the sink. "Let's go now." He called, pushing the little boy lightly on the back. Tommy jumped to the ground, and followed his father to the front door.

"Lunch time, grandma?" He yelled one last time. Mary laughed.

"Lunch time, dear."

"Dad, can I go on the front this time?" Tommy asked his father, looking up at the man with big hopeful eyes. Tom stayed quite for a minute, looking from the black car to the boy next to him. He sighed.

"Alright, you can. But only this time because the travel won't be long." He allowed, helping his son up. "Don't tell granddad about it, thought. Do we have a deal?" Tom offered his hand to the boy, who shook it solemnly.

"Deal." He agreed, and Tom smiled, closing the door and walking calmly to the driver's seat.

They travelled in a happy silence, the boy too busy watching the always changing sights outside the window while his father observed the street lighted by the morning sun. They finally reached the beach, and Tom stopped the car, walking around it to help Tommy once again, this time to leave the vehicle.

"Why aren't there people on the beach, dad?" The little boy wondered, holding the man's hand as they walked to the board of the sand. They stopped to take off their shoes, and Tom showed the kid how to roll up the end of his pants so it would not wet in case they walked close to the ocean.

"It's because people are too busy working today, kiddo. No one has time to spend on the beach anymore." Tom answered, taking his and Tommy's shoes on his hand and finally stepping on the hot sand, his son following his moves closely.

"Oh! Why do you have time to go to the beach, dad?" He asked again, and the man laughed.

"Because I know that life is short, so we got to have fun while we can." Tom told, pinning the boy's nose, smiling. Tommy nodded as if he, too, believed in that.

Suddenly, the boy started running, heading near the ocean, his arms open. Tom smiled.

"Don't run too far, Tommy." He called after the boy, walking a bit faster so the distance between him and the kid would not be too much, in case his son needed help.

"I won't dad. Besides, I know how to swim, grandma taught me." Tommy answered, rolling his eyes at his father, causing him to chuckle.

Tom stopped by the edge of the ocean, pointing at the sand with one finger.

"We are going to sit here, dad." He ordered as the man walked closer.

"Are we? Oh, well, if you insist. But first, what's the magical word?"

"No magical word." Tommy said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Then I won't sit with you, little man." His father replied, turning his back to the boy. They were silent for a moment.

"Please." Came the child's whisper. Tom smiled.

"Alright then." He lay down a sheet, sitting heavily and tapping the space next to him, calling his son to mirror his moves. The boy sighed, but sat nonetheless.

"What do you think granddad got me?" Tommy asked, eyeing his dad. Tom looked the sky as he replied:

"I don' know. Maybe a dragon!" He suggested, and could hear the boy's inhale in surprise.

"Do you think it could be a dragon? Like that from The Hobbit? I will call it Smaug! No, no, Smaug is defeated in the end. I will call him Gandalf!" Tommy started to chatter happily.

"Calm down, kiddo." Tom laughed, observing the boy with the corner of his eyes. "I said maybe. I could also be a kitten, for instance."

Tommy tapped his chin with a finger, thoughtfully.

"If it's a kitten, I will call it Gandalf as well. Gandalf is a wizard like me, and he wins!" The boy finally said. His attention turned to the sand, where he started to build a castle.

"He is also a good wizard, like you." Tom completed, getting on his feet and stretching. "I am going to wet my feet, Tommy. You stay here where I can see you, do you reckon?"

The boy nodded absently, and Tom left, walking near the ocean. He could not believe it had been six years since Merope had bewitched him. Six years she died. Six years an old woman knocked on his door to tell him Merope had had a child, and he was the father. Of course he could not leave such a hopeless little thing alone on the world; it didn't matter he had the Gaunt's blood running on his veins. He also had the Riddle's blood. He was not going to be alone, as long as Tom could help it. As the time passed, it got easier to love Tommy, to care for him. He was a very special boy, after all.

"Dad, look!" The boy shouted from Tom's back, and he turned around to see whatever the kid wanted to show. The sand castle he had been building was now floating a good two feet on the air. The man immediately looked around, tensing, fearing someone could see what his son was doing. Luckily, as Tommy had pointed out before, there was no one around.

"This is wonderful, Tommy. But what have we talked about? Magic, only inside the house!" His father reprimanded, walking back to where the boy sat.

"There's no one here, dad." He answered, but the castle went to lay on the sand again. Tom messed Tommy's hair much like Mary had done earlier that morning.

"Good boy. You are getting better at controlling it." The man praised, earning a big smile from the boy.

He sat back on the sheet, sighing. Tom leaned back, closing his eyes and letting the sun warm him. He must have dozen off, for the next thing he realized was Tommy shaking him lightly.

"Dad, it's almost lunch time. We have to go back." The boy said, getting up as intending to leave. Tom sat up, blinking repeatedly. He yawned.

"How do you know it's already lunch time?" He wondered, furrowing his eyebrows at his son.

"I looked on your watch." The boy replied, pointing at the man's wrist. Tom looked at the watch, surprised. It was, indeed, almost lunch time.

"And when in hell did you learn how to see the time?"

"Grandpa taught me, of course." Tommy answered, crossing his arm and tapping his little foot on the sand impatiently. "Can we go now? We promised grandma we would be back by lunch time."

Tom smiled, leaning back on the sheet once again.

"It's so good here, that we should stay a little longer. You only want to go back now because your granddad will give you your surprise anyway." The man said, eyeing Tommy. The boy's eye widened.

"This is not true!" Tommy exclaimed, his tone a note too high. "I mean, I do want my present, but grandma will be worried if we don't appear in the time we said we would." He reasoned, still looking at his father. Tom sighed.

"You do have a point, kiddo." He agreed, getting up as well. He and the boy cleaned the sheet, and they started to head back to the car.

"Faster, dad. You're too slow!" The boy complained, running forward.

"I am too old for this." The man said to himself, but chuckled nonetheless as he ran after his son.