Warnings: future SLASH (boy x boy), MAJOR NO-MAGIC!AU (Alternate Universe), possible BLOOD and FAMILY SITUATIONS in future chapters, AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIP(S)

Pairings: TMR/HP, pre-established HG/RW and LL/NL and LE/JP, open to suggestions for other characters

Standard disclaimer applies: I do not own Harry Potter or any brand you recognize in this story. J.K. Rowling is credited with the creation of these characters (I'm not fond of using OCs in my own fanfiction)

Lily Potter usually woke up early in the morning. That was just how it was. She rose earlier than her husband, earlier than her son's godfather, earlier than her good friend, Remus, and earlier than her only son. So, it was a surprise when she came downstairs Saturday morning to a scent of coffee and sweetness in the kitchen.

Barefoot, Lily wandered over only to see her son at the sink, washing dishes with a peaceful expression on his face. From the assortments of utensils that were there, she figured he had been making something, and a smile lit her face. It had only been a few days ago that he had told her about his hobby, and it pleased her even more to catch him in the act—or, well, maybe not in the act… but certainly the aftermath.

"Got anything for your mother?" she teased, raising herself off from her spot leaning against the doorframe and walking forward so Harry could see her across the bar.

He looked up, startled, and a small grin teased his lips. "I don't think you'd perhaps like some cake for breakfast, then?"

"Oh, I'd love something sweet right now," Lily answered right back, "And as long as your father doesn't catch me at it, might as well break the breakfast rules a bit."

Harry chuckled. "Sure thing then; just let me finish up here."

His mother's lips turned upwards into a tiny smirk. "How about you wash, and I dry? That way, I get my snack sooner than later."

He shrugged, turning back to his task. "Works for me."

Lily moved around, grabbing a towel and moving to position. Their work became as easy and repetitious as clockwork was, and she took this time to discreetly glance at her son's features. It had been a long time since she had really, really looked at him, and she was pleased with what she found. He had lost the baby fat in his cheeks, and his jaw line was strong but subtle, just like his father's. Though he bore no glasses on his face, she knew that if he cracked open a book, the first thing that he did would be to slip them on.

His shoulder build was not as broad as other men, but that came both from his mother and father, naturally small in stature. Harry had a slight muscle in his arm, enough to be visible, but he was still thin, though at least he was taller than she was.

Their task completed, Harry laid out a plate and fork for his mother, filling it with a square slice of the dessert he had made. Between family members, their tastes were not all too different, all accepting sweet and bitter but scrunching their noses up slightly at sour.

Lily blinked down at her plate. "Tiramisu?" she asked curiously.

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "Well..." he trailed off, "Do you mind if I go out today?"

"I don't see why not," she picked up her fork, ready to try—for the first time!—her son's baking. "Do you need me to drop you off?"

He smiled nervously. "That would be nice… err, do you know where Professor Snape lives?" Because he obviously didn't was left unspoken.

Lily blinked, fork halfway to her mouth. "Yes… uhm, why would you need to go there, dear?"

"I need to drop off a gift," he said, shrugging slightly. "After you told me the story about the… pie incident, I thought it'd be nice to give him something. Plus, he's more like a stop-and-go… there's another person I want to give something to."

His mother hummed agreeably. By this time, the delicious treat was in her mouth and her eyelids were shut, as if to amplify the flavor by doing so. After a few amusing moments of watching his mother fall in love with his cake, Harry coughed politely. She opened her eyes, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry," Lily apologized, "What were you saying?"

The edges of his lips twitched upwards in barely concealed mirth. "I was inspired, and Professor Snape's is more like a quick stop."

She nodded. "Alright then. Out of curiosity, do I know this other person you're giving the next gift to?"

Harry bit his lip. "No," he replied carefully, "Uh, and I rather you drop me off at XXX park. I'll just walk the rest of the way—it's really close by."

Slowly, Lily nodded again and took another bite of cake. "I'm assuming you'll be staying there for awhile?"

"I'm not quite sure, actually," he admitted truthfully. "I might, but considering the time, I'll be back before dark."

"Will you need a ride home?"

"Probably not," Harry said. "It's within walking distance from here… and I could probably ask him to drive me home anyways," he murmured.

"Alright then," she agreed. Silence ensued, and Harry watched his mother eat, finish, and move from her seat.

"That's… that's it?" he asked with surprise evident in his voice. He had thought that Lily would at least question who exactly he was meeting, or where, or even what he was going to deliver… but no other comments at all? Just an "alright"? Harry didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he had assumed (and even braced for it) additional queries on his plans for this afternoon. His mother had just let it go as it was, and a large part of him was very, very confused.

Lily shot him an amused look. "You've made me this wonderful treat, let me have it before breakfast even though you knew everyone else—aside from Remus—would probably whine about it being unfair, asked me if I minded if you went out, and even took into consideration my apparent apathy about your plans! Harry, you're obviously not going to go out and do drugs, or get yourself wasted with what you coming back before dark, so I don't have any issues with that. When you want to tell me who you're meeting, I'll certainly listen, but I'm not going to pry if you don't want me to."

"…The big part was letting you eat that tiramisu, wasn't it?" Harry claimed suspiciously.

A wicked grin flashed across her face, and it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Why, how awful it is that my son thinks so little of me!" She sauntered out of the kitchen towards the door leading to the stairs.

"I'm right, aren't I?" he called to her back, and light tinkling laughter filled the morning.

An hour later, they arrived promptly at Severus' doorstep. It was a plain one story house, nothing terribly fancy, but not immaculately normal either. Harry shivered at the thought; he had only met his aunt, uncle, and cousin once, but they had been so unpleasantly bland that he had almost done a double-take, wondering how his lovely mother could be related to those people.

Stepping out of the car, Harry took with him a plain, white cake box. What was inside, of course, was not a cake, but that was beside the point. He couldn't wait to see Sev's face! The thought that Harry Potter would appear on his doorstep one day probably never occurred to the man, and though they were on somewhat good terms depending on where and who they were, that did not stop the moderately evil thought of surprising the man out of his wits. Huh, must be his father's genes. The day that happened would probably be the one where he cursed himself for not having a camera.

He adopted a suitably scholarly look before his mother could see his Cheshire grin, though something probably gave him away because she looked like she was fighting the urge to laugh, scold, and smack him on the head all at the same time. Most likely, Lily had a seventh sense for these things, the sixth being her motherly instincts. The way she looked at him was reminiscent of when his father got into things that he shouldn't have, on the less serious note of course.

Practically skipping to the front, Harry coughed once before knocking. His mother stood beside him; now whether to greet her old friend properly or to make sure her son didn't do anything was up for question. It did not take long for Severus to open the door, and if the man did not have as much self control as he obviously did, he probably would've done a double take.

Rather, his right eye twitched. Harry resisted the urge to snicker like a child.

"Hello, Professor Snape," he greeted cordially. His mother, too, exchanged friendly greetings with him, and this seemed to calm him down from the oddity of the situation.

"Potter," he said, "What pleasure brings you to my front door?"

"Well," Harry began, "I was speaking to my mum of my skills in baking, and she off-handedly mentioned something about the… pie incident…" this earned him an elbow to the ribs, "and I thought you would appreciate this." Now, he held out to the man the white box, which Severus eyed suspiciously.

"It is not a good omen to give gifts in front of a door," he finally said stiffly. It was rude, of course, to not offer your home to be open when a person brings you an innocent gift. "Please come inside."

"We're simply here for a quick stop by, Severus," Lily replied gently. This seemed to confirm the fact that nothing in the box was dangerous, and Severus nodded his thanks and took it.

"If it interests you, sir," Harry commented, "he's getting a gift from me too, though that was because of a prior deal."

It was impressive that Severus knew immediately who the brat was talking about. "Oh?" he raised a questioning brow.

"I owe him," the politely-disguised student answered solemnly.

The professor tilted his head slightly to the side. "I see," was his reply, and they all bid farewell on that note.

From the window, Severus watched his old first love and her son drive away before turning his attention back to the box. Though it displeased him that Lily had told him about the pie incident, he supposed that it could not be helped by now. Carefully, he pulled back the lid.

If someone were to claim that he was smiling then, they would've gotten a sharp-tongued insult and a sneer.

"I hate that brat," Severus snarled even after he had licked his lips at the sight. He brought it to the kitchen, where it was left on the counter as he rummaged around to prepare for an early snack.

Inside the box sat an innocent lemon meringue pie.

"You'll come home before dark, right?" Lily asked, still in the driver's seat as Harry opened the car door. He smiled, knowing that nothing would abate his mother's worry unless it was ignorance. Before, he had thought ignorance was better, and so had left her in the dark. She was still in the dark about many things, some that he had no intention to tell her until a later time, but Harry thought he understood just a tiny bit more.

"Yes," he replied, "And I'll call if I'll be late."

The extra reassurance seemed to soothe her, and his mother smiled before she drove off. He was left in the local park, with box in hand, though this one was not blindingly white. Instead, it was a neutral crème colour that he had gotten from Remus.

From his jean pocket, Harry pulled out the small slip of paper that he had been given. In legible, spidery cursive script was the address to Tom Riddle's establishment. He began to walk towards the general direction, eyes still drawn to the note. Tom's handwriting was unique, and he'd probably never mistake it anyone else's. It looked like it came from the 1930's instead of the twenty first century.

The walk from the park to Tom's home passed quickly and without issue. Now, Harry stood in front of a two story house, separated from it by a white barred fence that was approximately waist high. It looked clean, orderly in fact, and he quickly pushed open the gate to proceed inside. Immaculate green grass lie on both sides of the small walkway, just like his own house, except there were none of the blue flowers his mother adored so much.

Now at the front door, Harry raised his hand to knock until a sudden thought hit him from nowhere. What if Tom wasn't home? Mentally, he cursed himself for not having the foresight to ask what his friend planned for the weekend. They always got online quite late in the night, never really in the day, which left many hours to do as they pleased.

Harry sighed. Oh well, if Tom wasn't home he'd just have to walk back and tell his mother that his companion wasn't there. The cake should not have suffered too much; pleasant breezes kept the air cool though the sun was bright and sky layered with small clouds. He knocked once, twice, thrice, and then moved back a step to wait.

When it was clear that no one was coming, he tried again, waiting less this time. Still, no one answered. He shrugged, there was really nothing he could do, and leaving cake out on the front doorstep was just plain stupid if no one was home. Thus, he turned around and planned to head back until he saw a car park against the sidewalk.

The figure that opened the car door was, of course, Tom Riddle.

He blinked owlishly. Perhaps his luck carried on to the real world this time?

Tom noticed him a few seconds later and Harry raised the hand that wasn't carrying the box in greeting.

"Were you waiting long?" the older man asked when he reached him.

"How presumptuous," Harry teased, "to immediately presume that I had waited."

"Ah, shall I praise your damnable luck then?"

"Certainly," he beamed. Apparently Tom had come to the same conclusion as he had.

Opening the door and motioning his team mate in, Riddle eyed the box cradled in his arm. "That better be the tiramisu, imp," he said.

"I think I might have switched it with Severus'," Harry idly shot right back as his flickering eyes took in the home, "So this might be a lemon meringue pie." Behind him, Tom predictably made a face. The pie was sweet, bordering slightly acidic, and he could usually stand not more than a bite.

"I'm going to ask for a refund if it is," he muttered, leading the way into the dining room. There was the standard wooden dining table covered in a dark tablecloth, eight chairs lined up on all of the sides. Of course, Tom was only one person, but Harry assumed he was forced to have dinner parties. He couldn't imagine the man actually willing to have seven guests at once.

Instead of stopping there, Tom continued to maneuver smoothly through the house, stopping in a sitting room instead. It was different from the one that Harry had seen when he first entered, and looked much more personal. A large bookshelf stood to one side, practically covering a whole wall. On the adjacent side was a window that took up about three fourths of the space, black drapes pushed aside to make room for light.

In fact, Tom's whole house seemed dark with or without the big windows; the wallpaper being a dark shade of blue and the furniture some other deep color. Wood was a rich color, not light and faded. Despite all of this, there was a modern air to it all. The house was not dreary or depressing, rather it was quite fashionable. There was no clutter at all.

Harry took a seat on the couch that Tom had motioned to, setting down the box on the coffee table. The other man took the opposing seat, crossing his legs and giving Harry a fairly amused look.

He blinked. "…What?"

Tom shook his head. "Let's see how good your baking actually is, imp," he said instead.

Harry scowled. "I bet Severus is happily munching on his pie right now!" Still, he opened the box and let the soft scent of coffee fill the air. A second after, the thought of the surly man munching on a pie seemed to entertain them both far too much, as they simultaneously snorted at the comment.

"There's only one fork," Tom noted as he fixed his eyes on the cake.

The teen cocked his head to the side. "Mmm? So?"

Riddle raised a brow. "You're not going to eat any? Careful, imp, or I'll begin to think it's poisoned."

Harry's eyes widened, "Oh! Err, right, uhm…"

Snorting, Tom waved dismissively and began to rise. "I'll fetch one from the kitchen, then."

"No, take a bite first!"

He stopped. "…Are you trying to poison me?" he asked suspiciously.

Scowling, Harry glared at the comment and motioned for the man to sit back down. "Try it first. I want to see your face when you admit my cake's totally awesome. Come on! Pronto!"

Tom sighed. "The cake will still be here when I get back, Harry."

"Not if you don't go," he rebutted.

"…That doesn't make any sense."

"Of course it does," said Harry with an obvious tone, "If you don't go, you won't get back, and if you don't get back, the cake won't still be here because there would be no period in time for still to describe!"

Slowly, Tom retook his seat and shook his head. "Your logic," he muttered quietly, and then in a louder voice said, "You know, I'm beginning to really think that that cake has been tampered with." Then, almost to exaggerate his point, he began to eye it distrustfully.

"You ordered it, you eat it," stated Harry.

His companion opened his mouth to reply, probably to shoot back an insult of some kind, but Harry was quicker. With lightning speed, for his father had always had good hand-eye coordination and had passed this on to him, he picked up the fork, sliced a piece of cake with it, and then shoved it into Tom's mouth in one fluid motion, leaning slightly across the table to reach.

This, of course, was a situation that prompted a glare, and glare Tom did. If looks could kill, Harry mused, liking the effect of the cliché line. Shooting his companion a look in return, showing that no amount of intimidation would deter him from his goal, Harry waited until Tom closed his mouth around the fork and did some semblance of accepting the dessert. Then, he pulled the utensil out of his mouth and sat back to wait.

VolDeMort had as much or even more self-control than Severus had, so clearly this would also describe Tom Riddle's massive amount of restraint. He did not melt into the dessert like his mother had, but Harry was satisfied to see how Tom's eyelids fluttered slightly, a small movement of his mouth showing how his tongue moved inside to swipe away any excess cake.

Eagerly, Harry shamelessly stared at his friend in wait for a review.

Tom visibly swallowed before speaking. "It's good," he admitted sulkily, and Harry was forced to bite his cheek to stop from laughing. Tom would never pout, or at least 'never' in Harry's world, but that did not stop the utter look of grief that flittered across his face when he spoke.

As if sensing his amusement, Tom shot another glare at him, reaching across to swipe the fork from his lax grip.

"So, about me having any—"

"Hush, imp. You can sit there and make snide comments as I finish this cake."

"That's more of Sev's job…"

"You can take it, for all I care. No one's going to tell him. Now, let me eat."

Harry snickered as his companion took another bite.

Smiling happily, Harry took a seat at his desk and began the process of signing on. It had been a good day, what with the trip to Severus' and the stop at Tom's. Dinner had been delicious, too, and he was eager to get his professor's snarky opinion on his pie.

Now online, he noted how the others were both on as he received his party invite. Instead of greeting everyone with a hello, Harry went straight to business.

"So, Sev, I know what Tom thought about my baking, but you're a complete mystery," here he sent a sly look to the priest, "How'd you like the pie?"

"I hate you, brat," the man snarled at him. This only served to send Harry into a fit of laughter, completely ignoring his teacher's sneer.

If no one saw VolDeMort roll his eyes, well… that was their own fault, wasn't it?

I lied. A bit. Well, not really. No CoS, but we certainly get some slytherins!

This is the official dessert chapter. I repeat, this is the official dessert chapter. As much as I love writing about their travels in CoS, you didn't really think I would leave the tiramisu that Tom was craving an empty hole, right? Though, if there were any empty holes in my story (there are many), the biggest one would probably be Harry's field trip. I confess that I have absolutely no plans for it, and it was only a result from the mention in chapter 1.

A lot of people have been asking for their ages, so here they are: Harry is seventeen, and the only one with an exact age. Severus is the same age as Lily, James, Sirius, and Remus, which is in their mid-late thirties to early forties. Tom is younger than Severus, aged at around his mid-late twenties... maybe ten years older than Harry? Give or take two years on that one.

Remember guys, if you review anonymously, I cannot give your review a reply! Most of my replies are in thorough detail, as questions are usually asked. Please take some time to log on to your account! On that note, if you have any questions, comments, or cake (I like mocha flavored), please pop in a review or a PM! I'd like to clear up as much confusion as I can, because I know not all of you are gamers.

'Til next time!

Sincerely,

R.R.