Something Old, Something New, Something Extravagant

By Angelis Raye

Chapter One: The Remains of a Once Wonderful Life

There was something about the whole scenario: was it the atmosphere, the attire? No. Tom could only think of one reason what made this whole thing so much more appealing to him that most: that boy in those dark green robes.

Yes, he was his professor, but the child was old enough to be considered an adult, now, by the muggle world's standards as well as the wizarding one.

Winding through the crowd, Tom managed to lose him in the crowd of people. Was it just a dream? An illusion? Scowling, the professor merely wandered back to his place by the other professors of Hogwarts, leaned up against the wall, careful not to appear too menacing – after all, it was his job as a professor to be open for the students to help and to guide them, was it not?

And there he was again, like a glimmer – a ripple – in the sea of swaying bodies. This time, Tom was much more active in the pursuit of the boy (no, he was a man, now), and nearly caught up with him when said man turned around to stare right at Tom.

"Professor Riddle," the green-eyed boy assessed. "I thought you didn't dance?"

"Potter – honestly – I just want to talk with you," he managed to make as an excuse.

"Only after you dance with me, professor," Harry taunted, grinning playfully, holding out a hand.

Rolling his eyes, the taller man took the hand and began to lead the both of them in a waltz, keeping time easily with the changes of the mood of the music, easily flowing between a slow dance to a moderately paced one. And before he knew it, the music ebbed to a stop.

Stunned, he just stared down into those seas of killing-curse green that were Harry's eyes. "So enchanting…" he whispered as he broke away from the other, glancing around him. Clearing his throat, noticing that other students and professors around them were watching, very interested in why Professor Riddle would dance so with a previous student – Harry Potter, of all people. "If you could accompany me back to my office – I would like to speak with you about a few matters at hand, Mr. Potter."

Nodding, Harry followed his old professor, keeping a straight face the entire way, ignoring the stares they were attracting from the rest of the crowd. Yes, he was talking with the man again – and their whispers were making it clear that the others were making more of it than it really should be. Honestly, though, Harry wouldn't mind if some of them came true.

--

"So, you called me here for a reason, I presume?" Harry began, sitting in the chair offered, also taking the tea given to him, as well. "This isn't just a staring contest, right?"

"No, it's not," Tom put bluntly, sitting in his own chair across from Harry, his gleaming crimson eyes still focused on the man that used to be one of his best students in his own house.

Harry only sipped at his tea, stirring in a sugar, then tasting it again, watching Tom out of the corner of his eye.

"Professor Dumbledore wanted me to congratulate you on your newest appointment as Head Auror," the professor put out, trying to be as casual as possible about the topic. "I'm also very proud of you, Mister Potter – you've accomplished a great deal, despite being a Slytherin in the wizarding world, and without any sort of scandal."

"Thank you kindly, Professor Riddle," Harry acknowledged, smiling fondly at the man. "It's only because I had such a skilled and wonderful professor for Defence, sir."

"I'm very flattered, Mister Potter, but this is about you, tonight."

"Is the Headmaster coming, then?"

"No, I'm afraid he has other business to attend to, although he sends his best regards and will catch up with you at a latter time," Tom retorted, snorting. "You are well aware of how he is, are you not?"

"But of course," Harry sighed, setting the china down on the table between them, resting his arms on his legs, looking at the floor blankly. "Is there anything else you'd like to speak about, Professor?"

For a short time, Tom merely kept himself busy by fussing with his tea, then with his tie. Finally, when Harry motioned to get up, he spoke: "Please, call me Tom, will you?"

Harry stopped short, frozen. Did he hear that right? "Sir?"

"Really, we're both mature enough – you're not my student any more, are you?"

"I guess not, then, Sir – er, Tom," the Auror corrected himself too late, feeling awkward as hell. "Then I suppose you should call me Harry – if all is to be fair."

Nodding, Tom went along trying to skate around what he really wanted to say. He'd always managed to keep things to himself – why couldn't he manage so successfully tonight?

"Anything else you'd like to speak with me about… Tom?" Harry asked, fiddling with his wedding ring, not sure what the professor was after.

"I'm afraid not, Pott-"

"Harry," he interjected, interrupting the older man.

"—Harry," Tom corrected hastily, nearly forgetting himself again.

What followed had to be the most awkward silence that the professor had to endure since his dating years.

"How is she?"

"My wife? Or my daughter?"

"Both, I suppose – don't you have a son, too?"

"Yeah – they're all doing well," Harry said with a half-hearted smile.

Tom, seeing this, noted it, and knew that something wasn't quite right. "I'm sorry about your loss, by the way, Harry."

"Ah, really…" the man spluttered, turning away, twisting the ring once more. "It's been almost four years, now…"

"But you never really do forget, do you?" Tom whispered, apathetically.

"No, not really," Harry returned, a subdued mood falling on the once more jovial pair.

"I've never had to experience such a loss, thankfully, but I can appreciate your grief, Harry." Tom hesitated, but continued on: "If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate coming to me, Harry."

Harry chuckled dryly, suppressed tears glimmering in his eyes, "Now you're sounding like Dumbledore."

Tom laughed breathily, shaking his head, "I suppose it's old age."

"Hmn," Harry responded, becoming detached, once more.

After a while, however, a knock came at the door. "Professor Riddle??"

Immediately, Harry jumped up, brushing away his tears and seemed to ready himself to take on the world. "I should go, then – you have more important things to take care of than talking to pitiful me."

Opening the door, Harry let the student in, then let himself out, thanking Tom as he left, closing it tightly, knowing that the portrait would close itself as long as the door was shut. Upon the shutting of that door, Harry stood outside, holding back his tears: he was still lying to them all, despite his vows that he would come clean about everything tonight. So much for trying to be brave and committed to the truth – then again, he was a Slytherin, like Tom, not like his parents who had both been in Gryffindor. Perhaps it was all for the better, though, that they didn't know…?

--

Another year passed, unbelievably. And it'd been just as long since he'd seen Harry, oddly enough. Tom supposed that the Auror had better things to do than to come visit his old professors at Hogwarts, but there hadn't even been any owls or firecalls, lately. They'd used to come to each other for advice or just for discussing the politics of the era, but since that night, actually, there hadn't been a word.

Winter hols began just as soon as he dismissed his fifth years, who were currently practising hard with the new spell they learned to ponder over the time off. That wasn't soon enough, oddly. He was anxious, his heart pounding in anticipation, his mind racing, thinking of all the things he would need to get together for his leave. He'd already cleared taking time off with Dumbledore, but it was just a matter of getting a few little things together and he was off.

The bell signalling the end of classes didn't come nearly soon enough. And as soon as the students were out of the classroom, Tom didn't even bother cleaning the board as he customarily did, or straighten the chairs – that could be left for when he came back. He knew he'd regret this decision later, though.

--

Tom arrived at his destination without a fluke. He knew that this would be unprecedented of him (especially at this hour of the night), but he needed to find out what was wrong with his best student. Even though there was a likely chance that Harry would be on the job, Tom didn't care, and showed up to the Potter home, dressed in his best suit, complete with the silken green tie that Harry had presented to him for his promotion to Deputy Headmaster.

Coming up to the house, however, Tom immediately knew that Harry was home, but he also could feel that there was something very, very wrong about the whole place. Although the outside of the house looked just as it ever did, it reeked of Dark magic… and something else, barely tangible, but still lingering there, as if someone had used the Dark magic to cover it up. The professor prayed to the fates that Harry wasn't in some dire straights. Knocking on the door was a chore, it seemed, his heart pounding louder in his ears and his chest than his fist on the door. The door creaked open, as if it hadn't been properly locked or even closed to begin with.

"Harry?!" Tom shouted, alert, drawing his wand, prepared for anything that would come his way. Racing through each room, his wand poised for action, Tom looked through the entire house, until he came at last, to the basement, traditionally used as a wine cellar. He doubted that it was being used as a wine cellar, any more, though, as it reeked even stronger of the magic that wasn't Dark or Arcane, but something else entirely.

"Good Merlin!" he gasped, when he came into the basement, completely, wand lit, gazing around the place. "Harry!!" Tom proclaimed, rushing to the body that was strewn across the floor. "What happened here? Did someone attack you? Where is your family?"

"…Professor Riddle?" Harry acknowledge wearily, lifting his eyelids, recognizing the voice. "Please… leave me," he begged, his eyes going wide, suddenly.

"I won't, Potter – no matter what you say or threaten, I won't leave you like this," he growled, showing his rather sharp teeth, blood-red eyes glowing.

"No! I won't let you," the younger of them protested, but was much too weak to do anything about it.

Tom gathered the man in his arms, wand in his left hand, still, ready for anything. "I'm taking you to the bedroom and examining you, Potter – and if you protest, I'll merely keep you from doing such. And I'll expect some answers from you, soon," he told Harry, sternly, his eyes still glowing an eerie red colour.

"You'll regret this, Tom, I assure you that – I was perfectly fine without your interruption," he hissed, raising his head slightly to try catching Tom's eyes.

"I promise you that neither of us will regret this, Potter – just work with me, will you?"

"All right," he allowed, sounding defeated, as Tom placed him gently on the soft bed that was his own, though he likely hadn't slept in it in so bloody long…

--

Ahh... slash, after such a long time -- but it won't be focused on the sex, of course. This is a relationship-based story. Definitely AU, but... also within reason, as mine always tend to be -- just another possibility, right? I dunno why this hit me -- I was trying to write another chapter for WAITS and this just kept nagging at me and just wouldn't go away.

Was listening to H.I.M. for the vaguely romantic part at the beginning, then started listening to The 69 Eyes for the rest of it.

As always, for my writing, questions and whatever are welcomed, as long as they pertain to the fanfiction at hand.