The sleet of the night prior had subsided into snow, which had fallen through the early hours of the morning and into the afternoon only stopping with the approach of evening. It was truly bitterly cold-even despite the two sweaters, coat, hat, gloves and scarf that he was wearing-as the setting sun painted the sky with the first hints of dying orange and Harry had no idea how exactly it was that Fred and George had managed to convince all of them to leave the warmth of the Burrow and venture out into the tundra outside. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of silvery white. The cauldrons and old boots completely buried. Small furrows had been cut into the snow by the chickens which lived in the yard, and larger ones were left in their wake as they gathered in the center. Conditions were perfect for a snowball fight.

Nagini had heard the twins' suggestion and immediately wanted nothing to do with it, abandoning her post on Tom's shoulders and making to curl up by the fire instead. The dark brunette had been keen to give his competitive streak a bit of exercise and all but pounced on the prospect and Harry, happy to see the other boy managing to fit in so well despite the minor discomfort he'd expressed to him the night prior, had gone along with him without thinking. Now he was beginning to wish he'd taken a cue from Nagini and stayed inside.

"Alright all, listen up." Fred crowed, eyeing them all up like a drill Sergeant might a line of cadets. "We called you all out here to propose a bit of winter warfare."

"A frigid fracas."

"A glacial gambit."

"All in good fun of course." The twins grinned wickedly. "An old-fashioned snowball fight. Muggle rules, since Fred and I are the only ones of age for the time being."

"Sadly."

"Indeed, George."

"Team rules; play to last one standing. If it gets to be too much-too cold-then head inside to tap out."

"George will be the captain of one team, I'll be the captain of the other."

"It'd be too much of an advantage if we were together, after all."

"Lineup, all of you! We'll split you up."

"Come now, Precious. I know it's cold but don't pout." Tom led him by the hand over to where the twins had directed them. "The weather could be worse, really."

"I'm not pouting, Tom."

"Sure you're not." Harry kicked him lightly as they came to a stop between Hermoine and Ron. "I'd offer to go easy on you in the likely event we end up on different teams, but I know that would only make you angry."

"I don't need anyone to go easy on me, Gaunt."

"Do you think I'd consider you a worthwhile partner if you did, love?"

"We've got an uneven number, Fred."

"That we do, George. We'll just have to make do with uneven teams."

"No we wouldn't, if Phlegm could bring herself to associate with peasants." Ginny spat.

"She doesn't seem that bad to me, just a bit disenfranchised; natural for someone when surrounded by others who don't speak their first language." Tom had said it, not him, but Harry found himself in the path of the glares the two girls directed at the dark brunette and couldn't help but shudder.

"Of course you don't think she's 'that bad'." Hermoine sounded scandalized by the mere thought that anyone could think Fleur was anything but awful. "Men tend not to."

"She doesn't affect me."

"She's a quarter Veela."

"And I'm gayer than a herd of pink unicorns!"

"Okay then," George trilled in a singsong voice, smirking. "Let's channel that aggression into throwing snowballs; we'll divide you into teams now. Ron!"

"Yeah?"

"Choose a number between 1 and 10; we'll guess. Whoever gets closest gets to choose first." Fred said. "Got it yet?" Ron nodded. "10."

"5."

"3."

"Blast! Well George, you first."

"Thanks, Fred." He said. "Gaunt, you're on my team."

Tom sighed. "Perks of being the new kid, I suppose." He stepped out of the line and crossed to stand beside George.

"I get Harry, then."

"Because we wouldn't want anyone to end up with a set."

Tom offered Harry a smile which only carried a slight promise of danger as he went to stand on the opposite side of the line with Fred. The raven shivered slightly, already well aware of precisely who the other boy would be going out of his way to aim for and certain he wouldn't be able to dodge everything.

"Ginny."

"Happily." Her eyes were set on Tom.

"Hermoine, you're with us."

"Oh, alright then. Come on, Ron."

"What do you bloody mean 'oh, alright then'?"

"Nothing, nothing little brother."

Ron was obviously less than satisfied with his brother's answer.

"Alright, you all. Scatter! On the count of 10 its Battle Royale!" They all took off running to different corners of the yard as Fred and George began counting down. Tom disappeared into the tall grass, as did Hermoine and Ginny. Ron ran around to the back of the Burrow. Harry ducked behind the small shed that Mr. Weasley used to study Muggle artifacts just as the twins shouted "play ball!" And hastily began to shape a handful of snow.

He barely had a split second's warning to duck before a snowball exploded against the back of the shed, right where his head had been. Tom rearmed himself at remarkable speed and lobbed another snowball at him, nearly making contact yet again, and then darted back into the tall grass before Harry could return fire.

He wasn't about to let him get away that easily.

Snowball still in hand, Harry darted off in pursuit of the other boy. He caught up with him in a surprisingly short span of time, only to discover he'd walked into an ambush.

"Fire, Granger!" One snowball hit him in the side and another, courtesy of Tom, pegged him in the chest. Harry threw his and managed to hit Tom in the shoulder and then all three were running again.

Hermoine disappeared into the brush as Harry drove Tom back towards the Burrow, exchanging a few more snowballs which neither of them bothered to dodge only to be herded into separate battles soon after the sudden arrival of Ginny and George.

"Hope lover-boy isn't going easy on you, Harry." He snickered, pegging him with a beater's aim as the little redheaded witch went tearing off after Tom's fleeing form, lobbing snowballs after him as if they were grenades.

"He knows better." The raven replied, ducking another projectile before returning fire. Missing by a mile as George disappeared around the corner of the Burrow.

By the time Mrs. Weasley called them all inside darkness had fallen completely and in spite of his winter clothing Harry felt as if he'd been frozen through. Tom didn't look much better than he felt; Ginny, it turned out, had attacked him with a single-minded fury and shockingly good aim. His pale cheeks were flushed and the tip of his nose was bitten bright red with cold. His coat and scarf were dripping and ice had formed in his fringe and eyelashes. Surprisingly, he wasn't shivering.

He smiled widely at him as they stepped through the door, joining the others in shucking off their drenched outerwear. "Well," Tom said, "that was fun. But your best friend's sister seems out for my blood."

"That's Ginny." Hermoine said from their right as Tom pulled a somewhat unwilling Harry under his arm. "She's had a bit of a thing for Harry for a number of years now. The problem she has with you is jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Harry repeated as the three of them headed into the kitchen after the others. "I thought that she was over me. Was dating someone else."

"Dean Thomas, yes. But that's just it, she was fine with dating someone else in the meantime because you weren't. You were single, and she was trying to make you jealous!"

Because that was exactly what he needed to be dealing with right now.

"Insidious!" Tom exclaimed with a snort, dislodging the last remnants of un-melted snow from his fringe. "This is one reason why I could never see myself with a woman; we menfolk are far more straightforward and honest."

"Are we all, Tom? Because you seem to be very feminine in certain regards. Like the backstabbing I know you can be prone to."

"Oh, bite me darling. It's my snake side."

"Dinner will be ready soon and a few more people are going to be stopping by for the Christmas meal; you're all dripping wet. Head upstairs and dry off before dinner."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"So you lived in Romania?" Hermoine asked as they exited the kitchen and headed up the first flight of stairs. "What's it like there? I've always wanted to travel; my parents have taken me a couple of places, but never outside of Britain."

"I'm afraid that I can't provide you much explanation of Romania." Tom told her. "I rarely left the forest where I lived; the Muggles in the nearest town-Cluj Napoca-were very superstitious. They thought of me as some manner of demon; I've never had a good experience with non-magical people."

"Not everyone is out to hurt those who are different from them, Tom. There are good Muggles in Britain -like my parents-you'll see."

He smiled at her softly as they parted ways at the door of the room she shared with Ginny.

"Barring the jealous little sister, your social circle is quite welcoming." The dark brunette said as they continued up the stairs towards the attic. "I doubt they'll take well to the truth, when it inevitably comes out."

"There's nothing inevitable about it coming out. Those who know are sworn to secrecy, I'm not about to spill on the matter and I doubt that you are either."

"Your naivety is endearing." He said. "Sure that everyone who knows is sworn to secrecy, are you Harry?"

"Positive." The raven paused at the door of their room. "Can you think of anyone?"

"Me." Tom replied. "Or, rather, him. The Disillusionment Charm won't work to hide my identity from Voldemort."

"We'll have to resort to other means then, not that it will matter; if we play our cards right we won't have to run into him directly for a while."

"Crossing the bridge when one comes to it isn't always the wisest solution, love."

"It's the only solution we have."

"An unfortunate reality." Tom pulled the towel from his trunk and draped it over his head, quickly attacking his hair in an effort to dry the snow drenched strands. "Who else do you reckon is coming over tonight?"

"Don't know." Harry replied, tossing his own towel back into his trunk. "Since the Burrow is acting as the temporary headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, it could be anyone."

"That's the second time that I've heard that. 'Temporary' headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix." He said, dropping his towel back into his trunk and beginning to search through it for something. "Where was the original headquarters then?"

Maybe if he hadn't been burrowing through his belongings at the time Tom might've noticed the stricken look which flashed across his face.

"It is… Was… Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The home of my godfather, Sirius Black."

"Black?" Tom repeated, sitting up. "Your godfather was a Black? An old Pureblood family; impressive. Though I am surprised, given their take on Muggle-borns and who your mother was."

"Sirius was different. He hated his family. Hated that house; ran away from it as a teenager." Harry said. "He died last year. The Order moved, worried that despite Sirius' will the house would go to his closest blood relation. His killer. Bellatrix Lestrange. It went to me, turns out, but they haven't gotten around to moving back."

"Lestrange?" The raven nodded. "Another person that you cared about that my counterpart and his followers have taken from you."

"I'd rather not talk about it, Tom."

"Of course. I'm sorry." Tom fell silent for a while. "Love, I think I'd like for you to open your gift tonight. After dinner." The little package that he pulled from his trunk was narrow and rectangular and reminded Harry vaguely of a wand box. It was wrapped carefully in green paper and bound with a silver ribbon. "A distraction from wounds I hadn't meant to reopen."

"That isn't necessary."

"I insist."

Harry sighed and reached into his own trunk, pulling an approximately book sized object out. "After dinner, then; we're expected back downstairs."

"To the circus, then."

The pair returned down the stairs and into the kitchen where, if anything, things had only become more wild then when they'd first gone upstairs to dry off. There were so many people in the small room that it was difficult to move. Tonks was sitting at the table, entertaining Hermoine and Ginny with a caricature of Fleur which the quarter Veela-hanging off of her fiancé-didn't notice. Lupin was engrossed in a conversation with Mr. Weasley Kingsley and Mad-Eye. Mrs. Weasley had roped Fred and George into assisting her with finishing up dinner.

"Looks like the 'Azkaban Guard' is here to make sure I don't pull a Ba-humbug and murder Christmas." Tom grumbled under his breath.

"We don't know their specifically here for you."

"Don't we?" His tone was dry.

"They'll get use to you, provided you behave."

"You say that like I make a habit of being a hell raiser; I'm good at making others view me as an Angel." The dark brunette replied. "I'll behave."

The pair sat down beside Ron. Though the Auror at the far end of the table said nothing on the matter of his appearance, the electric blue eye shifted over to affix him in a focused stare.

"So you're Ron?" He asked politely, attracting the attention of the ginger who regarded him warily. "I've heard a great deal about you. All good things of course. Well… Perhaps aside from the unfortunate incident with the fake color changing charm."

"You told him about that?" Ron seemed horrified. Both Tom and Harry laughed.

"Can you blame me for asking? Given my circumstances, I've never had real friends. At least, not human ones." He said, then looked around the crowded room. "Come to think of it, where is Nagini anyway?"

"Over here, by the fire. Asleep by the look of it." Lupin called.

"Should have known, what with how bitter it is outside today." Tom set back slightly in his chair. "She's not in the way, is she?"

"Oh no, dear. Your pet is fine to stay where she is if she wishes to. For such a large snake she can make herself quite small."

"So you spent the last semester traveling around Europe, mate?" Ron asked, glancing at Harry.

"Not all of it, but a good portion. Yeah." He said. "The portkey landed me in Ukraine. Two months into my search I found my way into a less than memorable city in Romania-Cluj Napoca-and found a snake which was able to lead me to Nagini. After winning her trust I eventually found myself outside the little cabin where Tom lived. Earning his trust was difficult, but convincing him to come back with me was even harder."

"I'll admit that I'm not a person who is altruistic by nature. Like most of my bloodline, as well as those who find themselves sorted into the House of my distant ancestor, I place value on self-preservation and self-dependency." Tom told him. "But there are some forces in this world which can make one go against their own nature, love being one of them."

"Love." Ron repeated. "So… You are really… I had no idea that you were into… I mean, he said that you told him you weren't, but-."

Harry, deciding to take mercy on his evidently struggling friend, answered without waiting for Ron to complete the wording of the question which was causing him quite a bit of trouble. "Sometimes gender doesn't matter, Ron. Sometimes you just meet someone who's… Right, I suppose is the word."

Tom snort was far from delicate. "A way with words you have, Precious."

The raven ignored him and continued talking. "But, in case it makes you feel any better to know this, no. I'm not gay."

"Oh," the redhead was evidently relieved. "Well, that's good to know. You didn't happen to run into Charlie while you were in Romania, did you?"

"Oh, no." He said, blinking in surprise. "To be honest, I'd completely forgotten that Charlie worked in Romania."

"He does?" Tom's interest seem to have been piqued. "Doing what?"

"He's a Dragonologist."

"He works with dragons?" He seemed shocked. "Bloody hell, those things are dangerous; not even the type of XXXXX rated creature one of special skills can reason with. I can't imagine."

"Because we're all aware that snakes-and similar creatures-are much more the Heir of Slytherin's cup of tea."

Tom raised an eyebrow at Ginny, who glared at him in return.

"The actions of my unfortunate familial relation regarding the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk contained therein, of which Harry has informed me, are not something that should be held against me. Though, I'll admit, it's a shame that the beast is dead as I would have loved the chance to see a living Basilisk, especially one as long as Salazar's was said to be." He said calmly, voice level. "I have done nothing to you, perhaps aside from stealing your man, and as such do not appreciate being on the receiving end of your distain."

Ginny opened her mouth to speak again but her words were cut off by Fleur before they could even begin.

"You are a lucky man, Tom, to have managed to catch someone like Harry for yourself." She said, grinning widely at the raven in question. "He is not my type-I have Bill, here-but that does not change my fondness for him; it is deserved of course. Two years ago, now, he and I were both participants of the Tri-wizard Tournament; he for Hogwarts and myself for Bouxbattons. Though we were against each other in the race for the cup that did not stop him from saving my little sister during the second task. Gabrielle would have died had it not been for him."

Tom smiled ingratiatingly at her and began gently picking at Harry's wild hair in an effort to tame it somewhat, ignoring the other's quiet protests and attempts to lean away. "He does seem to have a penchant for that. Saving people. He saved me, too. Perhaps not physically, but… I'll admit to having been a moral schizoid without much in the way of compunction before he got to me."

"Que c'est mignon!" She squealed much to the evidence displeasure of the other two girls, gripping her fiancé's arm and shaking him for his attention. "Bill! Oh, Bill, don't you think they're perfect for each other!"

"Yes, dear. I'm sure they'll both be together for a good while, might even get married." He sounded distracted, attempting to indulge her while at the same time trying to continue his conversation.

Tom smirked at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

Dinner passed fairly quickly, which Harry was grateful for. Tom became involved in a conversation with Tonks over her Metamorphmagus abilities and what it was like to be an Auror; from time to time he'd shoot a glare at Mad-Eye, whose electric blue eye hadn't once left him. Harry discussed Quidditch with Ron, learning that Ginny had again played Seeker in his absence and that the Gryffindor team would be glad to see him back, and discovering from Hermoine that Ron's newfound relationship with Lavender Brown was really beginning to wear on her nerves and in some ways their friendship had suffered because of it.

On top of that, Draco Malfoy was acting strange. It was that knowledge that worried him most.

Picking up on his distress, Tom poured a mug of eggnog and all but forced it into his hand before settling beside him on a couch in the sitting room; they'd all been forced out of the kitchen once the meal had concluded so that some manner of Order related conversation could take place.

"Whatever is on your mind, push it to the side for now. You worry too much, Harry." Though, coming from someone who obsessed over the smallest details of a plan, being told not to worry didn't mean all that much. "It's the holidays. We'll handle whatever the problem is when the term begins. Together."

"He's right, Harry." Hermoine agreed, seating herself in a nearby armchair and sending Ron-who had immediately begun to stuff his face with holiday cakes-a disapproving look. "If you don't take the chance to relax when it presents itself the stress will kill you long before anyone else gets the chance to."

"They can try to," Tom said acidly, "but they won't bloody make it through me!"

Harry pushed the mug at him. "I think you need this more than I do."

"Pish! I'll pour my own." As he reached for the pitcher again Fred and George hit a particularly out of pitch note in the Christmas song they'd been singing along with the radio, making the dark brunette visibly cringe.

"The pair of you are so out of tune that you sound like shrieking Hippogriffs!" He snapped. "My ears are bleeding!"

"Are they?"

"We don't see any blood."

"Think you're exaggerating just a bit, mate."

"Just a bit."

"It's an expression! Or have you never heard of such a thing before?" He hissed into his drink.

"Well, if you're so sure were off tune why don't you show us how it's properly done?"

"That sounds like a marvelous idea, George. Gaunt should show us better, if he really thinks he knows better."

"You're right, Fred. He ought to prove he does."

"I don't have to prove anything; Harry knows I'm musical and can credit me."

"I've heard you play piano before, Tom, but I haven't heard you sing." Harry wasn't quite able to contain the smirk which unfurled across his face. "I'd like to hear that."

"… Smarmy bastard, fine!" With a semi-overdramatic sigh he set his mug down on the table in front of them. "Turn that damned thing up, then."

The twins were all too happy to move the radio onto the table and turn the volume up to a nearly deafening level.

Herod the King

In his raging

Charged he hath this day

His men of might

In his own sight

All children young to slay

Then woe is me

Poor child for thee

And ever mourn and say

For thy parting

Nor say nor sing

By-by lully lullay.

Tom picked up his mug again and set back, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"I think I've sufficiently prove my point." He said.

"You're very good."

"Thank you, Hermoine."

"Who taught you?"

He shrugged. "You teach yourself any number of fairly pointless things to ease the boredom which comes inherent with solitude and a lack of human contact." Tom glanced into his cup. "I should probably stop drinking this, considering I can taste the Fire Whiskey. And I'm sure that you and I, Harry, both remember the last time I drank that."

"We do."

"What happened?" Fred sounded just a little bit too interested.

"Yeah, Harry, what happened? Drunken escapades make for great stories later."

"Neither of us can really remember," the raven admitted. "We were both a little bit too pissed at the time."

"My first time drunk: the hangover was a nightmare!" With a small flourish Tom reproduced the carefully wrapped gift, though from where Harry had not the slightest clue. "But now is the time, I think, to get around to this. At least between the two of us."

"Gifts? So early? Naughty boys, you two; going against tradition!"

Harry rolled his eyes and handed Tom his own gift.

"Your boyfriend wraps presents like a girl, Harry." George noted as both twins sat themselves down on top of the coffee table. Ron and Hermione leaned curiously closer and even Ginny moved over to get a better look.

"How are we going to do this?" Tom asked. "I say one at a time, but if you'd rather we both go at it-?"

"You first."

"Me first?"

"With how you've been going on about whatever is in this bloody box my gift is going to be completely shown up so we may as well get it over with!"

"Well then, if you insist darling." Tom undid the ribbon tied around the gift and pulled off the paper, revealing a leather covered book which he seemed to recognize after a moment's confusion. "Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo; Harry, wherever did you come by an authentic Latin copy of Virgil's Aeneid?"

"Lying around, though it admittedly took a considerable degree of looking." He told him. "You've read it before?"

"In English, not Latin; I'm interested to know if the translations were done correctly." He said, flipping through the delicate aged pages. "Open mine! I've been dying to see you wearing it for months!"

All eyes were on him, it seemed, as he undid the well tied silver ribbon and neatly wrapped green paper to reveal the narrow box inside. Pulling off the lid, he unveiled the locket with a sturdy chain and a heavy golden clasp inset with numerous small emeralds.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron yelped. "That thing must be worth a fortune!"

"And I didn't have to pay a single Knut; it's an heirloom of my family, just as my ring is, and belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself." Tom plucked the locket from the box, holding it in his long graceful fingers. "It will only open when spoken to in Parseltongue, naturally, but aside from that there are other things about it you should know. I've personally charmed it so that only you or I can remove it once you put it on, and should anyone attempt to steal it they'll receive a fairly nasty bite. Not only that, but so long as you have the locket on and I wear my ring we'll each be alerted if the other is in danger. Something which will likely come to be useful in the future. May I put it on you?"

"I can-."

"I know that you can, but all of the 'Chosen One' nonsense has made your head so big that you can't simply slip it on and it's easier to have someone else cinch it for you than to have to do it yourself."

Harry glared at the other's cheeky grin while everyone else attempted to stifle snickers. Tom quickly reached behind him to redo the cinch and allowed the clasp to fall heavily against his chest.

"It looks beautiful on you, love. The emeralds match your eyes."

"You two romantic sods are going to make all the rest of us sick!"

"Too bad we decided against the mistletoe this year."

Tom seemed to agree that it was a pity. Harry, however, was beyond thankful he didn't have to worry about being ambushed by a hanging plant.

"Well," Hermoine said suddenly, getting to her feet, "it's rather late, isn't it? We should all head to bed, don't you think: none of us want to sleep the whole of Christmas day away do we?"

"Oh, come on Hermoine!" Ron protested. "It's holiday break; stay up late, sleep in late and don't do any homework at all."

"I think that she has a point," Tom said, picking up his book and getting to his feet. Harry sent him a sideways glance. "I, myself, feel a bit drained after such a busy day. Ready to retire, Precious?"

Warily, Harry got to his feet as well. "Sure, why not? We didn't get as much sleep as we wanted to this morning."

"You're welcome."

"George and I will be in the same time tomorrow if you'd like?"

"No, thank you." He said, following Tom towards the stairs. "We'll wake up on our own tomorrow."

"Suit yourself."

"You're really tired, Tom?" He asked once they'd climbed the second flight of stairs and were out of earshot.

The taller boy snorted. "Tired? At what can't be later than 9? Please!"

"Then what are you up to?"

"Why do you suggest that I'm up to anything?"

"Because you agreed that everyone should go to bed, claimed you were still tired from being woken up too early this morning, and yet now you're telling me that you're not. So you must be up to something."

"Oh, nothing escapes the notice of the Gryffindor Golden Boy." He crossed the attic room and pushed open the little window, letting in a blast of frigid air, and leaned out of it. Flecks of melting snow had settled in his hair by the time he moved away. "You and I are going to get up to a little bit of mischief tonight; there's somewhere that I want to take you."

"We've been told not to leave the Burrow, Tom."

"And you've never left somewhere you were told to stay put in?"

Harry wasn't sure if it was Legilimency or his own guilty conscious that brought the memory of his third year flight from Privet Drive to the forefront of his mind. "… I'll concede that point."

"I won't let us get into trouble, Harry. And, I promise you, it's completely safe." Tom looked down at him imploringly. "He's not going to go anywhere near where I'm planning to take you. Not voluntarily. Hell, to be honest with you I'm not even sure if it's still there. But I need to do this."

"It's that important to you?"

"Yes." He replied. "When we get there, you'll understand why."

"And if it's not there anymore?"

"We'll head straight back right away: I swear on my magic."

"Alright." He relented with a small smile, rebellious streak overruling his reservations yet again. "But if we get caught, you're the one who takes the wrap."

"Agreed." Tom said, pleased by their deal. "Dress warm. We'll be out for a while."