Tom watched as the gentle snow fell around Malfoy Manor. It was still fairly dark outside, the dull sunlight barely peaking over the distant horizon. The snow covered grounds of Riddle Manor looked exactly as they had when he had first moved in only two years ago, but the inside had changed from the dreary, cobweb-ridden Manor that it had been back then.

The house elves had nearly fainted in shock at seeing the state of the Manor, and he had given them free reign to redecorate as they saw fit. They had redecorated almost everything, starting with the master bedroom and making good progress by the time he had returned to the Manor.

Lucius had managed to get him into the Ministry. Lucius and the rest of his inner circle had worked tirelessly with him to create a new identity, one that was rock solid so that even Dumbledore would never be able to see through it – he may suspect, but Tom couldn't give Dumbledore an incentive to get in his way without reason. He couldn't afford that after his stint as something that was even less than a spirit.

Tom still didn't understand what had come over him, attacking a child like that. It went against everything that he had stood by, especially since his own experiences with muggles still lingering at the back of his mind. He still wasn't entirely sure what had become of the boy, or who he was staying with. Tom only hoped that Potter hadn't been put in an orphanage – perhaps there would be some hope then. Despite everything, Tom really didn't want to see any child going through what he had.

With that thought, Tom returned to his desk, turning his attention to the project that he worked on whenever he had free time – which was admittedly not nearly as often as he would have liked. He needed to find Harry Potter, and make sure that he wouldn't be raised as Tom had been. It was the least he could do after his madness.

…oOo…

Tom couldn't pinpoint exactly when his home had become open to the Malfoys, but it had. At first, it had only been Lucius that came over whenever he needed to, and eventually Narcissa when they had required her Healer's opinion on something. With Narcissa came little Draco, whom the elves had enjoyed entertaining. Soon Draco had been the one begging to visit, and Tom had only been able to acquiesce at his tears.

With Draco running around, the elves had to change the decorations again to make sure there was nothing that would harm Draco if he ran into it – and that nothing would break either. The elves had even changed one of the unused bedrooms into something of a play area for Draco – who had been absolutely delighted at seeing it. Something that had only resulted in Draco visiting on a daily basis, forcing Narcissa to join him.

Taking pity on Narcissa, Tom allowed her a room to order the elves to decorate as she wished to stave off the boredom. The Manor had more than enough rooms, after all, and if they needed more space they could easily have the Manor extended.

It was snowing again, Tom could barely remember the silent walls that had lived in Riddle Manor only a year ago. There were shouts of Draco's laughter that echoed through the halls, followed by the softer laughter of Narcissa's. It almost felt like it had been like this since the very beginning, and Tom knew that he wouldn't want it to go back to the silence it had been before.

Despite knowing that it would definitely change, Tom wished that it would just stay this way. But Draco would grow up soon, the pureblood etiquette and training would show itself soon.

And he still hadn't found Harry Potter.

…oOo…

Draco had insisted on inviting his friends to their celebrations. Their parents had come with them, trusting Tom as their Lord but still not entirely sure of him, and Tom understood. He welcomed them, both his followers and their spouses. Tom had met all of the future Slytherins in the Malfoy's social circle: Pansy, Millicent, Vincent, Greggory, and the Greengrass sisters.

The Greengrass family was neutral, and wished to stay that way. Tom knew that, and he couldn't say that it bothered him that they wouldn't change. Their ideals, for the most part, were aligned, and for now that was more than enough for Tom.

"Uncle Marvolo?"

Tom was certain that Lucius had drilled the pronunciation into his son, knowing that Tom wasn't fond of people who pronounced his name incorrectly. Tom wouldn't mind it from Draco, though. Draco was allowed leeway that not many other people were.

"Yes, Draco?"

"Thank you."

Tom wanted to thank Draco instead, for all the joy and laughter he had brought into Riddle Manor. His previous memories here had consisted only of the father who hadn't wanted him, and the man's subsequent death during his youth.

There would be more life in this manor now, and Tom was glad for it. It was a breath of relief that Draco had started in everything that Tom had ever done. Dumbledore was beginning to get suspicious with how the majority of the Dark families had begun flocking to him already. Dumbledore rarely tried understanding things from another perspective, and would fight it to his dying day. Tom really wished there was an easier way, but Tom knew that this happiness was worth all the trouble that would come.

And Tom thought he was getting a little closer to where Harry Potter is, and hopefully the solution to his year of insanity.

…oOo…

The heavy snow of the previous night lay on every available surface of the gardens. The perfectly pure snow lay untouched and ensured that there would be no one apparating outside the gates to walk through the gardens as his visitors sometimes did.

Yet they weren't actually visitors. They were like the family Tom hadn't had while he was a child, the one he had once wished for with all his might and even given up on at one point. They hadn't been there all his life, but they were here now and Tom found himself appreciating that, if nothing else.

The Manor was nearly silent again but it no longer felt the chill of the emptiness that had once engulfed it. The murmurs of life still filled its halls, low and welcoming with excitement still leaking in despite the years.

It was Yule again.

One of many, neither the first nor the last, and as the floo blazed green to welcome another family the conversation didn't stutter as new voices joined it. The children's pureblood training and etiquette having kicked in some time during the past year.

Tom could almost say that he missed it, their unrestrained laughter that was followed by a groan of another item being broken. The house elves adored all the work they had to do: if it were just Tom, they knew that would only need to do a fraction of the work. If Tom were honest to himself, he wouldn't even celebrate this strange combination of Yule and Christmas but the excitement on Draco's face when Tom had first given him that gift so many years ago had ensured that it was a permanent yearly event.

It had been Narcissa who had found the curse that had dug through his Occlumency shields only a month ago; the curse induced a violent reaction to whoever he saw first. That person had just happened to be James Potter during a raid, and the curse should have ended there but it had gone wrong upon the induced insanity – his mind hadn't taken well to the foreign impulse.

For now, Tom knew that he would just have to carefully remove every possible remnant of the curse from his mind or it was possible that he would fall into a rage upon seeing the boy again.

His search would be temporarily paused, besides, the boy would be going to Hogwarts with Draco in a few years. Tom was certain that he would hear of Harry's upbringing from Draco then – Draco would never pass up the opportunity of befriending the Boy-Who-Lived.

For them it would be something to impress their parents and Tom with, and Tom was perfectly fine in allowing them to believe that.

…oOo…

If the descriptions Draco and the rest of the Slytherins gave him, despite the fact that they insisted that he was spoilt for not taking Draco's friendship, were true then the young Potter wasn't living too dissimilarly to how he had been in the orphanage. Even though he was living with his muggle aunt and uncle. Of course Dumbledore would think that their familial link was all they needed to treat the Potter well.

Tom knew otherwise. The Riddles hadn't been particularly welcoming towards him either, despite the fact that there was no mistaking who his father was. They would rather have him paid off to be silent than accept him into their family. Everything had always been about their reputation and, in the end, that was exactly what had resulted in their downfall.

The muggles would have to be found, Tom knew that. If they could track them through magical means, they could use the house elves and, if all else failed, they could always follow him home the muggle way but that would be the very last resort here. The intention wasn't to harm the muggles, but Tom didn't know if he would be able to stop himself if he saw even the slightest hint of abuse there.

He had caught the briefest of glimpses of the boy on the platform before the train left, and he hadn't liked what he had seen. Tom had decided to give it the benefit of his doubt, not knowing if Harry preferred baggier clothes to most people, even if it was a bit extreme to have his shirt practically hanging off a shoulder but all his clothes were like that.

Pansy had complained about his lack of style for months, and had begged if they could just kidnap him to buy him some proper clothes. Tom hadn't managed to help the light laugh at the thought of Dumbledore going crazy as he searched for his missing Saviour only for the confused boy to be on a shopping spree with one of the worst people to go shopping with.

And Tom didn't even have to know that first hand. Pansy's reputation preceded her.

Yule was quiet this year, all the Hogwarts students wanting to experience the Hogwarts Christmas before the idea of it lost its lustre. It was understandable, the Hogwarts celebration was spectacular, but it never grew old as the new Slytherins believed it would.

It was just them, the adults, this year. But they had much more to discuss as well, not all the topics were easily discussed in front of children. The war had to go on, despite the peace they had existed in for many years now.

Tom hated to thrust children into a war, but Dumbledore had grown exponentially more suspicious. Voldemort would have to make an entrance soon, and Tom was already hating the very idea.

…oOo…

The war had only just begun but, in reality, it had already ended months ago.

Tom's fears had only been confirmed when he had managed to follow Harry through London and to Privet Drive. That family had no right to be related to someone they treated that badly. The bars on the window outside the room Tom was certain was Harry's looked out of place considering they were on the second floor – anyone would rather have the bottom windows protected rather than the top.

The fact that Harry rarely left his room unless either the man or the woman were with him made Tom certain that Harry wasn't allowed out of his room either.

It had only taken one weak compulsion charm, and that obese boy had squealed about wanting to go home and that the "freak" would be fine. Tom had been forced to calm himself at those words or risk being lumped together with 'Voldemort's' followers – something he couldn't risk given how much time and effort it had taken to infiltrate the Ministry.

Harry's bright green eyes were much like Draco's had first been when arriving in the room they now celebrated Christmas in. At his questioning eyes, Tom nodded with a small smile and Harry left Tom's side only to be accosted by the Slytherins who had insisted on coming home at hearing the news.

The house elves had worked themselves to the bone, and had nearly burst into tears when Harry thanked each one when they popped in to adjust something or the other.

And, finally, Tom sat back on the chair next to the fireplace, grateful for the family that had grown as the years passed and hoping that what they had now never changed.

Written for Gally! Merry Christmas :)