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)

Severus moved smoothly along the street, passing by the other pedestrians with a gliding stride that unconsciously made others step aside for him. His presence was mostly ignored; no one stared or made a double take, but their bodies all moved to avoid him. That suited Severus just fine—he didn't want people bumping in to him constantly. Especially today—the man was probably already there—and Severus was never late. He was always prompt, not early but prompt.

The café he walked into was average size, not very popular but not ignored either. It wasn't any of the busy hours, so only a few people sat at the tables inside. A quiet hum of conversation greeted his ears, but Severus paid it all no heed. There was only one reason why he was here today. He took a glance at the occupied tables and, finally, his eyes landed upon the one he was looking for.

It was by the windows looking out onto the street, and Severus was sure the man saw him pass by. Though he was sure of this, the man paid him no heed. Didn't even look his way. There was only one cup at the table, and the man sitting at said table was clearly drinking from it.

Severus resisted the urge to frown. Instead, he strode over and took the opposite seat. As if by his own leisure, the man looked up a few seconds later, slowly and casually like the piercing dark eyes the professor had was no threat. No threat at all.

Severus was taken by surprise then, by the intensity of that stare. Blue eyes, showing nothing but not just nothing, looked at him unblinkingly. Severus stared back with just the same focus; if the man wanted a staring contest, fine. He was not expecting, however, the great amount of presence he felt when they finally locked eyes. It was enormous, screaming to be seen and respected. How had he not noticed earlier when he first entered? Had he been numb the second he walked in? Or, had he always been numb, and never truly felt until this very moment? The feeling scorched him, burned him and struck at him and buried the memory deep inside his conscious. He was being forced to carry this memory—this feeling—of inferiority for the rest of his life.

But no, he had felt before. It was at the edge of his mind, tickling him insistently, wanting to be remembered. He had felt before—had felt joy, happiness, as a child right beside Lily. Lily, who had been his first love, and Lily whose son was now a treasured friend of his… yes, he had felt before. He remembered pain, and anger, and sorrow when he saw James hold her, and he remembered the humiliation he had felt when they had that terrible row. Severus had thought it had been all over—but no. It hadn't been. They had made up, and he remembered the irreplaceable feeling of joy, joy that he would not have to live without her.

And he remembered—oh, he remembered—the feeling of tired, accepting happiness as he attended the wedding where Lily Evans became Lily Potter. He re-felt it all, so very acutely, and regained his grip on reality again. He was Severus Tobias Snape. He would not falter, not here and now, and not in the face of the man in front of him. He had his dignity. With this in mind, he stood his metaphorical ground and continued to stare.

And Severus saw emotion in those blue eyes. There was emotion, but indiscernible to his normally well-versed knowledge. It was almost worse than emotionless—for at the very least that didn't have the same depth these eyes had. That, added with the sheer amount of pressure on him, had him frozen in place. He did not move; not because he didn't wish to, and certainly not because he was trying not to, but because he could not. It was like the pressing of all different types of stares upon him—curious, wary, questioning, angry, all the rest—and Severus usually had no problem with that no matter what situation he was in, but it was as if the feeling was multiplied a hundred-fold now, here, until it was a loud, beating drum next to his ears.

He did not dare to try and swallow the saliva that was slowly building in his mouth. He would not give, not when this man wasn't even glaring. No, he just stared, and idly Severus wondered at how this was entirely different than through a monitor. His gaze had power, so much pure power, and it radiated off the man in intensive waves. Who was he really?

Finally, the man slowly blinked and lifted his mug once again to his lips to take a sip. The spell was broken, and the pressure that had stabbed at him from every direction lessened a great deal. It was, however, still there; still powerful and horrifyingly superior. Severus felt like prey—a unique feeling for him—and the inner-animal in him was desperately trying to find if this danger was dangerous to him, because there was no question that it was dangerous, and there was no question about who it was coming from.

Submit, some part of his mind screamed at him, submit!

But he would not. He refused to. When had he gotten so reckless? Only for that brat.

"I am Tom Riddle," the man said, voice smooth and quiet in its nature, but still so very strong and demanding.

Tom Riddle, the name pulsed in his head. Severus did not dare to avert his eyes. "Severus Snape," he returned in his own tone.

From the back of his throat, Riddle hummed in acknowledgement. Severus was hyper alert, but did not move a muscle. Who was this really? He couldn't recognize him—this couldn't be VolDeMort. Not VolDeMort, who was always so kind to Harry in his own way. Not VolDeMort, who furiously guarded Harry the second he had found out that they knew each other beforehand. No, definitely not VolDeMort, the player he had found a certain kinship with. Who was Tom Riddle?

"As stiff as ever, aren't you?" Riddle murmured, "We did mutually agree to this—to a meeting. Will you simply sit there, guarded with lips tightly shut? Defensive play will not work against me, Snape."

Severus stiffened even straighter. "You are VolDeMort," he stated, though they both knew it was for confirmation.

"And you are HBPrince," Riddle shot back casually. His eyes were glancing downward to the liquid in his mug, and he idly moved it with his wrist to roll the liquid around the edges of the mug. Then, as if Severus had kept him waiting, his blue eyes flickered to him in a sharp glance. It was as if it was a signal of some kind—a probe of pressure stabbed him everywhere and nowhere, as if to come back and strike him after a small break.

Finally, Severus gave in. Riddle was right—they wouldn't get anywhere like this. "I suppose, since we both mutually agreed to this, that we will make some progress?" he prompted, and immediately the pressure faded back again, though loomed distractingly at the edges of his mind in threat.

"Yes, well... Some things are better said face to face, not through a camera. It is about Harry, after all," Tom stated calmly.

He bowed his head in understanding agreement. Yes, this was about Harry. That was an undeniable fact.

"Perhaps you should begin with why you feel an irrefutable need to detest my involvement with him during the day hours?" Tom shot.

"What are your intentions toward him?" Severus returned immediately.

Riddle's expression shifted, though to what Severus did not know. "I am unsure," Tom finally said, "But I know I will not give him up."

"Truly?" the professor raised a brow in surprise, "You have no romantic inclinations toward him?"

"Whether it is romantic, or becomes romantic, or is neither is still within question," Tom replied, "I do not know what I intend to do, just that I refuse to leave."

"That is absurdly vague," he sneered.

"You seemed to have assumed a lot," Riddle retorted, "Perhaps you can humor me and tell me what you thought was going on?"

"It isn't like you didn't encourage it!" Severus snapped, "I dare say you are the cause, stringing me along like I was your puppet!"

His eyes flashed. "I did no such thing," Riddle said slowly with a deadly calm, "If there is anything pleasant I can tell you now, it would be that I hold a great deal of respect for you, Severus."

"You seemed to have contradicted yourself there," sneered Snape again, "I have not given you permission to call me by first name."

"So you have not," agreed Tom, but made no move to apologize. "How can I make it any clearer?"

"By holding the words that can easily be translated to something else," he replied without missing a beat. "As regrettable as it is to admit, that brat means a lot to me. I saw him first when he was just a babe, and now to find you with unknown intentions? Play someone else as the fool. You will not get around me."

"Most obviously," Tom said dryly. "Seeing as you refuse to listen to me, I will happily ignore your comment about fools. Thus, I will move on. My intentions are unknown to you and me; do not claim to be the victim."

"Nor should you," Severus snapped right back. "James Potter is an utter moron. He does no good for that child but he still insists that he is that brat's father. You could fool him without lifting a finger or raising a brow, so it is my responsibility to play the adult."

"Are you making me out to be the villain?" he asked, "How curious… Perhaps I shall try Harry's method on you then."

Severus' left eye twitched. "Do not play games!"

"I am not," Riddle said seriously. "You insist that I be put in a bad light. I have done nothing wrong, have never hurt Harry, and yet you continue to persist in pushing me into the role of a villain."

"…You have done nothing wrong," he agreed quietly, "but that does not mean doing so is beyond your reach."

"It is within everyone's reach," retorted Tom. "I am not singularly unique there."

"That is true… but it would be all too easy for you," Severus reluctantly replied. "We are… alike in most ways. I have the feeling that you, however, would find it all too simple to hurt him and walk away. You do not feel remorse as others do. Harry may have an undeniable… charm about him, but that does nothing in this matter."

Riddle outright snorted. "Nothing? Nothing you say? Dear Severus, it does everything. You think I lie unaffected by that imp? That I am above the gods and therefore do not feel guilt if I hurt him? Perhaps you do not understand. Harry is important to me. He is of great import to both of us, and I assumed that is why we are both here."

"We are alike," Severus argued, "And I know myself. As we are both alike, I know that if you truly wished to, you would not feel the bitter shatter that someone else would feel if they broke him. Harry is still very much innocent. He is but a boy!"

"And on his way to becoming a man," replied Tom calmly. "We are alike, I will agree with you, but to be "alike" is not the same as being copies. We may be similar, but we are not the same. You know yourself and I know myself, such is that we can agree. You are right, however, in that if I truly wished it, I would not be as affected as someone else would be. However, I would not remain apathetic… you underestimate Harry himself."

"…What do you mean?" asked Severus after a while, "You have the ability. You are ambitious. You are the type of man who would use all that is within his abilities. There is no reason you would not; unless it did not give you gain. I refuse to take the risk with that brat."

"I mean," began Riddle quietly, "that I do not want to break him. Harry is as strong as he is fragile, and perhaps you think people such as I would take pleasure in shattering him. You are dearly wrong, my friend. I am singularly unique, and Harry's interests are mine."

"You speak of fairytales," he accused.

"We are unalike, Severus," Tom continued, "Perhaps when you were young, you wanted to break them. Break those who harmed you, spurned you, humiliated you. You hated, you hurt, and you wished for vengeance. Perhaps you obtained it, perhaps you did not. I do not know personally, and will probably never know. However, you and I are not the same. I have survived, and you have survived, but that is where all similarities end."

"You know nothing," Severus spat. "So what if I wished for them all to break? You have too. We have experienced it, and have been tempted to repeat our thoughts countless of times. We have been tormented, and harmed, and shot down by society's scum. I can see it reflected in your eyes—you and I are more alike than you speak of."

"I know exactly what I'm saying," said Riddle, "You are older in age than me, Severus, but I am years ahead in experience. You speak of hurt—of pain, of hunger, of rage—and I understand. You say you see, and I believe that. However, the eyes cannot view everything. You tamed the beast alone—unlike me. You tamed it, leashed it, tied it up and beat it into submission all by yourself. I had beast tamers."

"And you know what else?" he continued, "My beast is by far more vicious than yours. You have subdued it with memories and force—mine has gorged upon knowledge, ate until it could hold itself up no longer. It has been defeated by gluttony—a sin—and will not rise again unless I will it to."

Severus was quiet for awhile. "And you think," he started slowly, "that will be enough? Control? You might be singularly unique, but so is the brat."

Riddle shook his head then, as if amused. A light smirk played upon his lips, and a deep chuckle even made its way past. It was as if he found that statement was so ridiculous that it was hilarious to him, and Riddle just continued to shake his head with that knowing look in his eyes, completely ignoring Severus' expectant gaze. "You still do not understand," he finally said.

Severus raised a brow. "It seems like you think me ignorant or something of the like."

"No, not ignorant. You simply cannot fathom it, I suppose. That is an adequate excuse in this situation."

"For someone five years plus my junior, you seem to make it a goal to make me feel inferior," Severus murmured.

Tom inclined his head. "We are both genii," he merely replied. "…And as such, I feel no reason to give you the answer out front. I have told you and insisted you listened prior to this, and because you have not heeded it, you find you do not know."

"Must you call me foolish in such a way? A genius may not be stupid, but he can be foolish."

He chuckled again. "Not foolish… but stubborn."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "…I see…"

"Perhaps a wrong word choice?" muttered Riddle.

"No," the professor reluctantly replied, "You were honest."

"About what?"

Severus glared at the smirk that played on the other man's face, remaining silent in protest. He did not like to be belittled… or teased.

"Enough play, Severus," Riddle abruptly said, "I will be frank with you once more. I have no definite intention with Harry other than staying and you nor will anyone else be able to dissuade that."

"You… and Harry?"

Tom shrugged. "Romantically, platonically, it doesn't matter."

The grimace on Severus' face was obvious. He didn't even try to hide it. Tom Riddle was so very above, almost like a dictator, that it seemed so… wrong. From all the times he had seen Harry, he wasn't all too much of a leader. Instead, he went about things by himself, working them out in his mind, and that suited him well. Tom Riddle was… was—It didn't matter if their teamwork was fantastic, or how easy the two got along with each other (god knows why)! They just… those two…

Harry Potter and Tom Riddle were contrary to each other in a way that wasn't even remotely like the whole "opposites attract" nonsense. They were different, but not opposite. Though Severus could admittedly see how there could be "chemistry", or whatever rot the teenagers and romance novels of today were calling it, he couldn't see them being… together. Romantically. And though Riddle had said he possessed more experience, Severus knew relationships. He saw them happen, crash, and burn on a daily basis. Not only that, he had been a reluctant witness to relationships that have worked, will work, or are on their way to working, and he knew what they looked like. Sadly. Regretfully.

He also saw how they started, and the messy results. Granted, most of them were teenage relationships, but he had definitely been a spectator for the… teacher affairs… as well. Reluctantly. And completely barring gender.

Moreover, Severus knew that Tom and Harry were platonic now, but they were clearly going to progress into a romantic relationship. It was as obvious as the sun in the sky was. There was no doubt in his mind that if things continued to progress as they were, that was what was going to happen. You didn't need divination skills to see that. Of course, Severus didn't actually see the progression, but he definitely saw the results. The way they interacted, the way they spoke to each other… it was all evidence.

And disgustingly, Severus found he couldn't bear the thought of that brat being hurt emotionally. It sickened him on multiple levels. The Harry that was quiet, shy, and a bookworm was old news. That Harry wasn't something to watch over, to care for. He was in absolute solitude. However…

There was another Harry. A Harry that he had not bore witness to in a very, very long time until CoS. He had only seen him once before, because Lily no longer needed to take along a baby whenever she went to visit him and her son had been old enough to start learning from his father. It had been on one of his very rare visits to the Potter Household that he saw him.

That Harry had been worth something. That brat had been happy. Innocent. Carefree. Relaxed. All smiles. Cute.

Even if the child had been the spawn of James Potter, he hadn't been able to bring himself to care. That child had been nothing like his father! He had been… been…

He had been all Harry. Not even any Lily; just Harry.

"I can see that you won't be giving up on your stance anytime soon," Tom said. "That's fine. The earlier you can accept the way things are, the sooner we can move past all enmity. We could be friends, you and I."

"…We could be," Severus agreed.

"When you're done being stubborn, call me Tom, won't you? 'Til then, Snape," with those parting words, Tom Riddle stood and easily strode towards the exit, paying for his coffee as he left. A few seconds later, a waitress came to pick up the empty mug.

Severus remained seated. The oppressive aura that had surrounded him was gone—long gone—and he exhaled the surplus of breath he had been holding throughout the duration of their talk. Slowly, he relaxed into the seat, and allowed his shoulders to sag. How could that brat have done it? Staying in that man's company for so long… Perhaps you could grow a resistance to it, and Severus could certainly see himself doing so, but that presence was so overwhelming—it made you look. Made you pay attention. Made you nervous.

With careful movements, he swallowed the spit that had collected in his mouth and grimaced at the feeling. Then, Severus stood up, moved away from the table, and made his way to the exit. It was done. Over. But he hadn't succeeded in doing anything at all.

It had been a very long time since he had failed at an endeavor. Ridiculous. Of course that brat would have to choose someone he couldn't glare into submission.

Severus snorted. He did not stop to buy a drink to wash away the disgusting dirty taste of his mouth. Moving south, he made his way towards his car parked a ways away—not having wanted to park so close to the meeting location. He chose to walk through the park, movements flowing even after being stiff for so long.

Suddenly, he paused, enraptured by the sight before him.

There, no more than fifteen meters away, stood Tom Riddle. The very same Tom Riddle he had just been speaking to, in fact. Beside him, Harry Potter. That wasn't, however, what had caught his attention and held it.

They were both smiling. Gentle smiles. Happy smiles. Expressions soft, posture relaxed, smiling. At ease. Was it even possible? With that man… with that presence…

Harry didn't seem disturbed at all. In fact, he was laughing and grinning and talking excitedly. There was some type of joy there that Severus had never seen before, not even when they all had a good run online. Severus couldn't even recognize the expression on his face—never had he seen it on Harry Potter. He knew what it was, though he could not bring himself to admit it.

Harry was happy. Happy and carefree and relaxed and standing right next to Tom Riddle. They looked… they were… Severus squeezed his eyes shut, immediately reopening them right after. The two were still there, still talking, still standing, still enjoying each other's company. In real life. This wasn't a game, and they weren't talking through a monitor, and Harry wasn't Scarred and Riddle wasn't VolDeMort—

And he wasn't HBPrince. He wasn't there at all. Severus Snape was not existent in their small world, and he wondered—couldn't help to—wondered if maybe, just maybe, if things had always been like this for them. Had he been blind to it? His arguments from a minute ago felt high and dry—useless and baseless. Pure nonsense. Because right here, now, with only themselves and the scenery around them, Harry Potter and Tom Riddle did not look awkward at all. They did not look wrong, did not look strange. They fit, in a way Severus never imagined they could.

Had he been blind before this? How could he not have seen it?

Riddle—no, Tom… Tom would never harm a hair on Harry's head. He would never hurt the boy, never abandon him or break him or do unspeakable acts against him. Tom would lie in wait, waiting for the very person that had hurt Harry and then, at the precise moment—

Severus closed his eyes, turned around, and walked away. He could go the roundabout route to his car. There was no reason to interrupt.

He wasn't happy, but a part of him—not a small part, either—was getting there.

Because if Severus couldn't protect Harry, Tom sure as hell would.

Call me an author, call me a fangirl, but I loved this chapter. Seriously. However, just because I thought it was perfect doesn't mean you guys did! Did it go too fast? Too awkward? Was Tom supposed to severely maim Severus or something? What did you guys imagine, since I told y'all what this chapter was going to be earlier?

I want to know!

Anyways, if you're curious, the day they met was Saturday. Tom totally had a date with Harry after, which is why he was like "Screw this I'm not going to wait for Severus to make up his mind! I'm going to go see Harry bwahahaha!" ...Yeah... you guys remember the whole 3AM thing? Well this is what you get from me at 9:30PM after a hand cramp and lots and lots of Severus-centric stuff.

Ugh. Math homework, why do you have to be so neat and orderly? Why can't you let me be messy?

Enough about my woes. What did you guys think of the chapter? Tell me in a review! Was it confusing? Too much talking? Was Tom too magical in a non-magic!AU? (Though I imagine he be just as charismatic... Severus, who is sensitive to that sort of stuff, felt an amplified version). Ask me questions! Tell me comments! Feed me virtual cake!

Oh yeah, and thanks for the +70 reviews *_* I love you guys, y'know? 100 reviews is actually within grasp! Thanks for spoiling me :heart:

Sincerely,

R.R.