*Disclaimer* I don't own any part of the Harry Potter universe, as much as I'd LOVE to – that honour is purely J.K Rowling's. Me, I just play with the characters (:

Summary: With Harry's life beginning to improve, and Tom's falling to disaster, it's only expected that they'd collide one way or another. Slight AU, TMR/HP slash. Set before/during OotP, R&R please (:

"He's MY cub!"
"No, he's MY pup!"
"Cub"
"Pup"
"CUB!"
"PUP!"
Sirius and Remus stood nose-to-nose, glaring at each other, electricity sparking between their locked eyes. They remained frozen in this position for several long, tense moments, before Sirius finally allowed a crack to show through his mask, and he snickered,
"Merlin Remus, no need to take it so seriously"
Remus' eyebrow quirked as a lazy grin spread across his face
"I don't know, padfoot, you looked ready to kill a few muggles just to get your point across..."
Sirius' face darkened momentarily, but his sudden negativity disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, as his attention was drawn to the teenage boy watching their mock argument with amusement dancing in his emerald green eyes, and a grin threatening to split his face in half. Remus, seeing Sirius' focus shift, managed to finally sign the parchment that was lying innocently on the table before hurriedly tying it to the leg of the eagle owl that had been waiting patiently for nearly an hour.
As the owl left, watched by all three pairs of eyes, both Remus and Sirius were shocked to hear a low sobbing sound coming from Harry's direction.
"Is that it?" Harry asked, laughter inexplicably escaping from within his tears "Is it done?"
Simultaneously warm smiles spread on Sirius and Remus' faces as they approached the crying teen, each placing a hand on one of his shoulders.
"That's it" Sirius said with a smile
"Signed" Remus grinned
"Sealed" Sirius continued
"And delivered" Remus concluded
"I'm yours?" Harry asked, a grin breaking through his tears.
"That's right, Harry, in a few hours the papers will be processed and you will officially be our adopted son"
Harry stood, awe-struck, looking up into the faces of his soon-to-be legal guardians. Quite suddenly, the cold kitchen of number 12, Grimmauld Place didn't seem so unwelcoming. He, he thought with a smile, was finally part of an official family – however weird a family it would be.

50 years earlier, a similar story was unfolding. Another dark-haired teenage boy was standing, straight-backed and proud, with a calm mask almost completely hiding the hopeful gleam dancing in his grey eyes as he gazed at the perfectly-normal couple in front of him. The man, barely taller than the teen, ran a hand through his thinning, silver-streaked brown hair, and turned to face his wife,
"Are you sure this is the one you want, dear?" He asked uncertainly, eyeing the adolescent warily.
His wife just smiled, grasping her husband's arm excitedly, a loving expression already forming in her warm blue eyes
"He's the one" she confirmed "Maybe he's a little older than we expected, but he seems wonderful!"
At precisely the wrong moment the heavy oak door to the office burst open, and a tiny blonde girl, aged about four or five, stood in the doorway. Her huge brown eyes, spotting the older boy and already recognizing him from the hideous rumours that circulated, widened further and she clutched tighter at the pink felt blanket in her arms. The couple, who had been staring avidly at the boy in front of them, suddenly turned to face each other, then back to the little girl, a look of simultaneous wonder growing on their faces.
"Hello, honey," the woman whispered, her voice wavering ever so slightly "What's your name?"
The nurse who had been overseeing the meeting turned to face the teen, a cruelly cold smile spreading across her plain face.
"Well, Tom, I can see you'll no longer be needed here. I suggest you return to your room. Without talking to any of the other children"
The boy, Tom, nodded curtly before sweeping out of the small office. His shoulders stiffened slightly as he passed the child in the door but, aside from that, he showed no outward sign of being affected by the disastrously disrupted meeting. It was only in his room that he let his eyes prickle uncomfortably, his version of crying, before burying himself in his copy of Advanced Transfiguration with the sole aim of re-memorizing its pages. For what did he, Tom Marvolo Riddle, care about being adopted by a spineless man and his dumpy wife? Pausing in his vigorous reading on human transfiguration, he mentally tarnished the memory he had of the couple who'd gotten so close to offering him everything he'd ever desired. With a frustrated sigh, he hurled the heavy book across the room and collapsed onto his hard, uncomfortable bed, staring murderously up at the ceiling.
'That girl' he vowed to himself 'will never have a peaceful day again.'