A/N: I have two pieces of news for you :) The good one is that I have several chapters ready up my sleeve, so you can be certain there will be another chapter this week, probably on Friday or early Saturday. The not so good news (at least for you) is that quite possibly when my stock of ready chapters will be uploaded the speed of updates will slow down. As I said earlier, my mom is coming and will be there til mid-August, so I will dedicate most of my time to entertaining her :P Also I suddenly acquired a kitten (rescued poor thing from streets), so I'll spend as much time as I can with him, while we're getting to know each other. It doesn't mean I suddenly stop writing, but for a while I'll be spending less time on PC, i.e. no writing or quick responding to comments.

And as an added bonus for today, there won't be any lengthy personal replies in A/N :P I'll come back with those in the next chapter this week.

And I really love your comments! Thank you everyone, even if you simply left a smiley or favourited me or my stories! Extra love goes to my favorite commentator, daithi4377. Honestly I even managed to write down the reply for you before the kitten took all of my time, but it will be up with the next chapter, too.

And now enjoy!

Harry was trailing behind Voldemort through the corridors of the Dark Mansion to meet with werewolves for lunch. The Dark Lord was giving instructions through gritted teeth, as he was still suffering from light dizziness and nausea.

"Try not to interfere into our conversation. And definitely do not provoke them. Or me, at that matter," he added thoughtfully. "Werewolves are supernatural beings and I am not almighty, as strange as it may sound, even at best of times in comparison to these creatures, not to mention now, after our little experiment. That was rather foolish of me," Voldemort admitted.

Harry only sighed, lowering his head. On the one hand, he felt guilty and sorry for the Dark Lord, on the other, though, he was glad to be rid of his usual sickness for a while, not to mention, that Voldemort deserved this a little, what's with all his anger and absence for the past days, when he clearly was told to stay with Harry and their unborn babies for the safety and health of them all.

"Before you attain a wand, I advise you not to oppose pretty much anyone you may encounter in the mansion. I will, of course, be with you, but as I said, I am not a god. Some of the people visiting this place are beyond even my abilities," the Dark Lord continued. "Hmm. We need to solve this issue as soon as possible."

"What issue?" Harry inquired.

"Your wand," Voldemort grunted annoyed.

"I thought you have it," Harry said surprised.

"I had it," Voldemort corrected. "But – "

"What?! What do you mean, 'but'?!" Harry cried out indignantly. "Have you broken it?!" Harry clarified with dread.

"I have never thought of breaking it," Voldemort confessed. "I was still holding onto futile hopes of dueling you properly at the time of your captivity, so it was never my intention to break it. It's just – " he trailed off embarrassed. "It disappeared."

Harry gaped.

"You are a mighty Dark Lord, are you not? How come, the wand of your most dangerous prisoner had 'just disappeared'?!"

"That was one of the main problems I tried to solve for these past five days. What truly bothers me, though, is that together with your wand my familiar and servant had both disappeared. Nagini, of course, could have gone hunting, but Wormtail is the other matter entirely."

"What, so you hadn't killed him? When I haven't seen him this time I thought you Avada'ed him on sight after my escape," Harry mused.

Voldemort raised an amused brow.

"Why is that? If anything I should have thanked him, not cursed to death. Especially now, when I learned about the babies. If not for him – "

"He may have brought me to your bedroom that time, but he also was the one who let me out of the mansion afterwards," Harry replied.

"I haven't seen him since then," Voldemort mused. "Though come to think of it, if he'd set you free, no wonder. But when I was looking for him at that time, Lucius reported to have seen him near my office – "

"My wand had been in your office, I presume? And did you said 'Lucius'?" Harry asked in thought, his eyes glinting strangely.

"Well, yes. Why?" Voldemort sent a side-ways glance towards Harry. "Do you know something?" he purred sweetly.

"No, just thinking," Harry shrugged with an air of innocence to his posture. "So what do we do with my wand then?" he inquired, quickly changing the subject.

"I would continue my search of it. But until it is found, you need another wand," Voldemort grumbled reluctantly.

"I thought you didn't want me armed with a wand," Harry mumbled, averting his eyes.

"No, I don't. But you still need one," the Dark Lord grunted. "You are a wizard, are you not?"

"I spend half of my year as a Muggle, I don't have such attachment to magic as your average wizard," Harry reasoned. "But I see your point. It is not safe here even with a wand."

"Not to mention, that you certainly need it through out the day, what's with your condition," the Dark Lord admitted. "And wandless magic is dangerous even without being a pregnant male."

"Don't tell me," Harry grumbled. "Wandless Apparation is a nightmare."

Voldemort chuckled darkly.

"So back to the topic," he urged. "I have two ideas actually. We can visit a wandmaker. Or I can lend you mine."

"Wh-what? Why?" Harry gasped.

"If I am correct, our wands are somewhat similar – "

"Brother wands. The same core," Harry clarified.

The Dark Lord nodded.

"I presumed something like that. This way you wouldn't have too much trouble getting used or wielding it."

"And what about you?"

"I can always borrow a wand from one of my people. They would be only too glad to help," the Dark Lord said airily, waving his hand in dismissal. "It is not a problem for me – " he cut himself off abruptly, remembering something, and furrowed. "Though, that could become a minor issue," he mused softly, barely above a whisper.

"What?" Harry asked with curiosity.

"Later. We're here," the Dark Lord stopped in front of the doors, made from the frosted glass, leading onto a terrace, brightly lit with sun. He raised his wand above his own head and hissed something under his nose, which to Harry sounded suspiciously like a spell in Parseltongue. Immediately, the Dark Lord's appearance changed to the familiar snake-like one, with no nose, and with bald head and slits for eyes, which remained his usual blood-red, but attained vertical pupils of a snake.

Harry shuddered at the view: "Don't kiss me, when you're like this," he mumbled softly in snake-language. Voldemort stretched his lip-less mouth in a smirk, his eyes glinting devilishly for a second and hairless brows wriggling suggestively couple of times, before he changed his expression to a more neutral one.

"Don't reveal your condition to them yet," the Dark Lord warned Harry in Parseltongue under his breath. "I'll decide when it's necessary."

Harry nodded in understanding.

The so called informal lunch turned out to be a rather strange affair.

When Voldemort stepped out onto the terrace, people, who were seated around the oval-shaped table, conversing in hushed voices, stood up out of respect, but not one of them bent their backs in anything akin to a bow. They turned, as one – five men and a woman – towards Voldemort and gave out the slightest of nod each, except for one man, who Harry vaguely recognized as one of the Death Eaters, whom he might have seen in the fight at the Department of Mysteries. The supposed Death Eater made a more pronounced movement, though he, too, seemed less awed by the Dark Lord, his overly exaggerated act looking to Harry as that of mockery, rather then respect.

Not one of them acknowledged Harry's presence at first, though it was quickly rectified. Voldemort made an inviting gesture towards the table and waited till everyone was seated, before taking a seemingly random place in their midst. But not before he pushed Harry lightly in the back, indicating where the boy should seat, and took one of the two unoccupied chairs out for him. The Dark Lord sat at his chair, after helping Harry to his place beside himself. That had finally got everyone's attention on Harry. It seemed, before Voldemort's actions everybody had thought of Harry as someone unimportant, a servant, maybe, or a lower Death Eater brought along by Voldemort for some unknown purpose.

And now they were all staring at Harry, well, at his forehead and his famous scar, in a hardly conceived surprise laced with shock. The only person, not gaping at him, was the Death Eater with familiar face. This one's expression was even more bizarre, though: he grinned openly, a glint of amusement and mirth in his eyes, which were darting from Harry to Voldemort. Harry threw a brief side-glance of his own towards the Dark Lord, trying to comprehend, what was going on.

When Voldemort warned him not to interfere and not to reveal his condition, Harry thought he should become almost invisible, not attract all attention.

'I should have thought of it beforehand. Their animal senses revealed your condition, I am afraid. No point in hiding anything anymore.'

Harry twitched nervously, his gaze again darting to impassive face of the Dark Lord. Did he just imagined that voice in his head or – ?

'Minds connected, remember? Do try not to stare too openly at me, please.' Harry felt something like an imaginary roll of eyes at the end of that statement. Holding in his snicker, he tried to mimic the Dark Lord's mental eye-roll, but was not sure that it gone through to the addressee.

"Might I inquire, why are you all so surprised at the recent development of events? Had I not informed you that I have an upper hand in my feeble quarry with the Light side?" the Dark Lord asked suavely. "Fenrir!" he snapped suddenly, seeing as the Death Eater continued his rude act.

Harry remembered at last, why this man was familiar to him. Fenrir Grayback, Voldemort's pet werewolf, who contaminated Lupin, and, according to the rumors, was very fond, in a special way, of small children.

Harry sent a pointed glare to the Dark Lord, when he remembered that fact. What's he doing in the mansion now?!

Fenrir seemed unhinged by the Dark Lord's annoyance, his smile growing even wider in a demonstration of his pointed teeth. He winked at Harry before turning lazily to Voldemort, who was almost at the point of throwing curses his way.

"You may speak, Fenrir," Voldemort said lowly through gritted teeth, with a shark-like scowl of his own. "But do keep in mind, to whom you answer," he added even more quietly.

Harry's head began to throb lightly from the Dark Lord's anger. He shifted uncomfortably on his chair and lowered his eyes to the plate before him.

Urgh! Meat! Almost raw, pink juice seeping out of the fleshy part. Harry gulped down a bile, which was rising in his throat. Now even that strange connection with Tom surely wouldn't help him, and he would make a scene and disgrace Voldemort in front of his guests!

The Dark Lord beside him took in a strained breath and snapped his fingers suddenly.

Harry anticipated the appearance of a house-elf, but instead the door opened and a man in a black robe and a white mask looked in.

"Change of menu," Voldemort grunted. "Bring us something light and fresh. Fruit and vegetables, I think," he ordered regally.

The woman at the table gasped, clearly offended, one of men grunted something in outrage.

The man at the door nodded silently and disappeared, but returned rather quickly.

Harry expected the plates to be changed only for himself and Voldemort, but it seemed the Death Eater serving them was even more stupid, then the ones, who always mixed Harry's potions. Or it was the Dark Lord intention from the very start, him being the ultimate Slytherin, the king of scheming and cunning.

The plates were changed, thick red wine exchanged for a freshly made lemonade and tea, but the supposed conversation still has not started.

Both Harry and the Dark Lord let out simultaneous sighs of relief, when the smell of meat disappeared behind the closed door, taking away their nausea.

"Matilda, I apologize for this," the Dark Lord offered. "You as a mother should understand Harry better then these roughnecks." The fond smile on this lip-less mouth, directed at him, slightly unnerved Harry.

The woman nodded her understanding, a hint of warmth appearing in her gaze, which she turned towards Harry.

"A rare blessing, my Lord," she said in deep velvety voice, "My congratulations to both of you!"

"I always said, the war is not for females," grunted the same man, who was the most angered by the change in menu. "You're not an alpha, Mat, you're just playing with kids."

"Stanton, we all know your opinion on the matter, but we're not here to discuss that," another man said in warning, before turning to the Dark Lord with a strained smile, "Forgive him, my Lord. And congratulations!"

Voldemort nodded regally.

Stanton grunted something under his breath, still annoyed.

Fenrir suddenly unceremoniously slapped him upside the head.

"Behave, boy, or I'll speak to your uncle," he growled threateningly. "My Lord, good catch! Congrats!" he winked at Harry again and smirked.

"Mr. Grayback, you're, as usual, too blunt," sighed a man, who reminded Harry of a young PT teacher: athletic figure, neat gold-rimmed glasses and ruffled chestnut hair. He issued an easy grin Harry's way before, too, turning towards Voldemort with words of congratulations.

"Thank you, Richard," the Dark Lord nodded. "I was hoping to talk business with you all today, but it seems this happy news distracted not only myself," he mused. "And besides we have only young Stanton here, in place of his uncle," he uttered in slight annoyance.

"Pardon me, my Lord, but Craiton is busy with his own baby at the moment," provided one of the two men with no names given yet. "You must have heard his tearful news," lowering his head, added the man.

"Indeed, Leon, I am aware of his reasons and sympathize with him. Relay my condolences, please. His wife was a remarkable woman, I heard," the Dark Lord said softly with a fallen expression.

'Stanton's aunt passed just two days ago after giving birth to her third child.' Harry heard even more sad voice in his head. Slowly closing and opening his eyes again, trying very hard not to show any emotions, Harry took a sip of his chamomile tea to calm himself and as a possible distraction, in case he failed his attempt at impassiveness.

"Rex, have you heard anything from your cousin, who went to visit the vampires?" the Dark Lord inquired. "I am rather interested in the alliance with them myself, you see."

Rex, another athlete, looking even more like a body-builder, with piercing and tattoos covering his bare arms and chest, which was seen inside the opened vest, as well as, Harry suspected, the rest of his huge stony body, shook his head vehemently and replied in suddenly soft and almost feminine voice: "No, my Lord, Ralph haven't return or written to me yet. I'm worried how the vampires might have received him," he admitted quietly. "You know what everyone says about them," he murmured gently.

"I have visited them myself long ago, so I don't think you should worry too much, Rex," the Dark Lord told him. "They are certainly not fluffy kittens, but they do not devour their guests just for fun, either, believe me. Of course, knowing your cousin, you probably have every right to worry," he smirked meaningfully.

Harry shot him a side-glance. Vampires? And he'd visited them, too?

'I'll tell you some other time.'

"So, should we postpone this meeting to some more appropriate time, then?" the Dark Lord suddenly suggested. "You would probably want to meet with Dumbledore now, I reckon, after learning today's big news. I have no intention to hide this joyous affair, so feel free," he moved his hand invitingly in front of him, "Speak to Dumbledore, speak to your dear ones, I don't mind. You may even wish to pay a brief visit to a newspaper," he chuckled. "As long as it is not a Muggle paper, inviting their egg-head scientists to our doorstep, you are welcome to talk to any journalists you want," Voldemort seemed ready to wink at them. "So until then. Gentlemen, my lady," a regal nod later he was helping Harry to his feet and leading him out by a hand, though not towards the door they came through earlier, but onto the open part of the terrace and further, into the garden.

When they left the vicinity of the terrace, the Dark Lord took out his wand and removed the glamour, returning himself human looks. They walked a bit deeper into the garden in silence, Tom still holding Harry's hand in a gentle grip.

"How are you feeling? I had no option but to raise my shields up a bit, after Fenrir began acting up. I apologize," Tom said softly.

"You do that a lot lately, don't you?" Harry gave him a crooked grin. "Apologizing, I mean. I am as well as I could be, no headache anymore, no dizziness. Though, I suspect that one had gone to you together with my nausea?" he smirked again, but his smile had no real malice to it.

Tom shrugged uncomfortably.

"I am getting used to it," he admitted with a crooked smile of his own. "That's the least I can do to you as a bearer of my children. You don't need to go through this alone."

Harry let out a contended sigh and led Tom to a bench he saw nearby.

"You're tougher then me, then. But not invincible, so you better sit," he suggested. "I'd be swaying and stumbling already."

They sat peacefully for a good five minutes, before Harry blurted:

"You should teach me that mind-talk, too. I'd rather be able to reply then make faces at you during some important meeting."

Tom squinted his eyes lazily.

"I rather like your faces, when you're not able to answer verbally," he smirked. "You'd make a good mime."

"Prat," Harry huffed in pretended annoyance, hitting him on the shoulder lightly. "You'd rather I'd be silent all the time, so that you won't hear painful truth," he added sarcastically. "You think Snape is enough for you? Nah! I'd like to have my fare share of nasty remarks," he showed his tongue teasingly.

"I don't see a forked tongue in that mouth," Tom snickered.

Harry shuddered and blushed lightly, suddenly remembering their first night.

"You're mean," he grumbled, "Firstly you do that pervert thing with your tongue, then abandon me, making me weak again, and now teasing! Cruel, cruel Dark Lord!"

"That I am," Tom agreed lightly, chuckling under his nose. "I am sorry," he murmured in a more serious tone, gingerly touching Harry's shoulder. "I promise, I won't leave anymore. If I can help it, at least."

Harry sighed and leaned into him, smiling in satisfaction, when Tom brought his hand around his shoulders, embracing him and shifting him closer.

"I will certainly teach you to converse with me mentally," Tom confirmed. "And not to stare at me in the process," he snickered. "That could confuse anyone observing us in public," he continued. "So no more faces. At least, outside our rooms. Ah! I almost forgot! Do you need a separate room? You've mentioned something yesterday."

Harry shrugged.

"I am okay as it is. It's not that I'd be spending any time alone soon, so I see no point."

Tom hummed in agreement.

"By the way, what do you think of our guests today? Aside from Fenrir, of course, I don't think he is likable to anyone," Tom smirked, but his smile disappeared, when he glanced at Harry.

Harry was staring in front of him with wide tear-filled eyes, a tentative smile carefully forming on his trembling lips.

"Harry? What's that?" worried voice of the Dark Lord finally brought Harry out of his trance.

He blinked away the tears and looked up at Tom with pure joy, written all over his face.

"Sorry," he sniffled, "When you've said 'our' in front of werewolves, I thought it was a slip, or some werewolf tradition. But now – " he wiped away the rest of his tears and looked at Tom with timid anticipation lighting his face up.

"Harry, I – " Tom seemed at a loss. "I meant what I said before, I would gladly provide to my children and their mother. Of course, this is your house! Don't you dare think otherwise! And of course these were our guests, so I am very much interested to hear, what do you think of them."

Harry gave him a trembling watery smile, trying to collect himself as quickly and stealthily as possible.

Tom's hand suddenly dove inside Harry's robes, but he only searched for his pocket and something in there. When he didn't found what he was looking for, he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Where's your calming potion?" he inquired softly.

"Bedroom. Forgot it," Harry mumbled sheepishly.

Tom brought a gentle hand to Harry's face and carefully removed all traces of tears from his cheeks with his fingers, then leaned in, his warm plump lips softly touching Harry's in a ghost of a kiss.

This had worked like a charm, successfully calming Harry due to its unexpectedness and tenderness.

Harry softly sighed into Tom's mouth, all traces of tears leaving him, and his spirits raising.

Before the kiss could become more heated, Tom moved away.

"I am not made from iron," he hissed softly in Parseltongue. "And you're still unwell."

Harry tried not to roll his eyes. Now, who's fault was that?

"Right. What were you're asking? About the werewolves?"

"Yes. If our talks would go well, one of them could become your – err – knight, let's say, to support the magic of the babies," Tom responded thoughtfully.

"Knight?" Harry repeated bewildered.

Tom shrugged.

"You may call them as you wish. That's just something from my youth," he mumbled with a hint of embarrassment.

"Did you also held court then?" Harry snickered.

Tom winced.

"No. Only knights. The Knights of Walpurgis. I've stumbled upon the term in some book and thought it sounded fitting for my purposes then," he grumbled. "You may want to invent your own name for them, if you'd like," he repeated.

Harry shook his head with mirth in his eyes.

"It has a nice ring to it! If they need a name, then I like this one," he gave Tom a grin. "Like an inheritance from the babies' father, eh?" he suggested merrily.

Tom snorted.

"The Dark Lord's spawn getting their own army even before their birth, you mean?" he let out a soft laugh. "So mote it be, then," he winked at Harry.

"So, I get it, all my recent visitors gave you reports?" Harry asked. "Judging by these words, which I said to Barty once," he added in explanation.

Tom shot him an apologetic glance and mumbled something under his nose.

"What was that?" in mock accusation demanded Harry.

"I was worried," Tom mumbled, his voice laced with shame.

"So instead of coming on your own two feet you've sent spies?" Harry smirked. "Don't think I forget this any time soon," he threatened.

Tom sighed, mouthing yet another 'I am sorry'.

Harry waved his hand.

"Okay, back to werewolves. I liked that woman. Matilda, right? She is looks like a real thing, kind of reminding me of Molly – err – my unofficial adoptive mother, so I'd like to talk to her some day. Is she really an alpha in her pack?" Harry was surprised.

Tom nodded.

"Her clan mostly consists of young ones and women, who don't fit well into other packs. Of course, there are some grown men among them, too, but they are few in numbers and they are not very high in the pack hierarchy. I will arrange for a separate meeting with her at the earliest date possible. Our talks are an entirely different matter, and I think she would be delighted to help you with anything either way, despite our progress with the alliance."

"Alliance?"

"Yes. I try to make peace with benefits, so to say, with most of the non-human races of the Wizarding world. The Ministry has very low regard towards them, so they are more likely to sway our way, than run to Dumbledore and his non-human registry officers. What about other werewolves?"

"The one with glasses seemed cool," Harry admitted. "We might become friends after one or two meetings," he added.

Tom smirked.

"Was it my imagination, or did you check him out?" suggestively purred the Dark Lord.

Harry blushed and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"If I was not mistaken someone practically undressed poor Richard with his silken gaze right there!"

Tom's smirk widened.

"So my gaze is silken, you say?" he purred.

Harry suddenly deflated.

"If we continue like this, we never make it to bedroom," he deadpanned.

Tom had decency to blush, his cheekbones becoming rose-pink and dimples appearing on his cheeks.

Harry's eyes glinted at the sight.

'I wonder if one can take pictures inside the Pensive – '

'Firstly you need to acquire one,' came snide reply, interfering Harry's supposedly private thoughts.

'Are you going to listen on my thoughts all the time now?!' Harry let out mental outraged cry.

'When they are of me – yeesss – '

Harry smacked Tom on the top of the head with his palm.

'Pervert!'

'But you like me anyw – ' even in the relative privacy of his mind Tom cut himself off, immediately retreating from Harry's thoughts, as if scalded.

Before he managed to jump to his feet and ran away, Harry, anticipating something like that, jumped at his lap with a frightened yelp, tightly clutching Tom by the neck. All his act was very much similar to the act of some damsel in distress from the eighteenth century.

"What's wrong?" Tom didn't caught onto his act, his voice full of worry.

"I th-think I saw something," Harry gulped, continuing to play a frightened girl part. "Mouse?" he added unsure.

"Rat?" suggested Tom with a meaningful raise of a brow.

"I don't think he'll dare show himself, even if he come back here for some reason. No, I think, that was a normal mouse," Harry let out a sigh of relief. Now he needed to keep in mind that he should act up upon seeing the poor animals. Or he'd never hear the end of it.

"So, do you get it? The mental connection," Tom clarified, Harry's act successfully distracting him from his intention to flee again. "In our case it is really as simple as a wish to communicate to each other and a slight decrease of inner shields – Oh, right, I totally forgot!"

"What now?" Harry inquired.

"I noticed earlier, but that just won't do – Have you ever heard of Occlumency?"

"Occlumency?" Harry echoed, wincing involuntarily. "Yeah. Never learned it properly, though," he admitted. "Last year Dumbledore made Snape teach me, but – " he furrowed. "Come to think of it, he must have done it on purpose," Harry mused. "What's with him being who he is."

"Hmm. We certainly need to return to the matter of Snape later. But this is more urgent," Tom pressed. "Occlumency for you and me should become vital, if we would like to remain ourselves, while still sharing the connection. Do you understand, Harry?"

Harry shrugged and shook his head.

"Not really," he confessed. "What it has to do with anything?"

"Think again, Harry." Tom sighed. "Just now I saw into your mind with ease, the same as before, when we met with werewolves. In normal cases one should arrange this beforehand, each party agreeing to lower the shields to be able to use any mental links to such advantage, as we had. But I simply slithered into your mind," he reminded.

Harry shuddered, unwanted memories of last year making him wince.

"Would you kindly use more impassive terms, please?" he mumbled in discomfort, trying no to move away from the other too openly.

Tom's brow furrowed.

"Pardon my bluntness, Harry, but this is truly important, and you need to understand it."

"You don't need another emotional breakdown of a pregnant teenager," Harry grumbled. "But do move on."

Tom sighed.

"What I am trying to explain here is that you don't have even the thinnest of shields up there in this pretty head of yours. And you need them badly. For your safety, as well as for both of our comfort and calmness. When I dragged your sickness upon myself, it took me only to lower my own shields a bit and our minds got connected, glued like magnets to each other. I am still not sure, maybe that's our strange connection, or a side-effect of the pregnancy, or a mix of both, or something else. But if you want your mind be your own, you need those shields and for this you need to learn Occlumency, and possibly even Legilimency. Though that one can certainly wait," he added.

"If I agree, can I chose a teacher?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Certainly. I can talk to Snape, so that he won't jeopardize the lessons this time around – "

"Have you heard me just now? I said, I want to chose!"

"Err – Yes?"

"I want you to teach me," Harry deadpanned.

"Me? B-but, Harry – "

"Are you worse teacher than Snape?" Harry snickered. "Even if you talk to him, the man can't teach a bird to fly, if he wanted. I don't know why Dumbledore hired him or kept him for so many years."

"Are you sure you want me looking into your head?" Tom inquired with a strange tone.

"And what were you doing for the past few years?" Harry retorted. "I'd rather that would be you and not someone we both do not completely trust," he added quietly. "And I don't know about yourself, but these days I trust only the father of my babies," Harry whispered, taking Tom's hand into his own and putting their intertwined limbs onto his stomach.

Tom let out some sound suspiciously similar to sniff, shifting on the bench and encircling Harry with his free hand, so that he hugged him completely, and put his forehead atop Harry's head, hiding his face in his hair.