The time of Bealtaine was probably the most beloved holiday Tom has experienced as a wizard: Bealtaine, the month of may, the return of Light. It was the time where magic flowed like honey thick and heavy on the tongues of students. This wrapping of Magic softened the senses, smoothened the edges. Sharp knives became foam spoons, bright lights turned to dimmed blurs. All that is intense becomes gentle like the wrappings of warmth from those you love.

Tom loves the changes Bealtaine has on Ailill, he's become so affectionate since May rolled around. His mornings now have Ailill holding him so tight and with wide loving smiles welcoming him. his evenings filled with ushered indulgences of sitting by the fire and just talking for hours on end. With Ailill acting like a mood indicator Tom too has smoothed his edged words and callous speech. He isn't nearly as distasteful to the other boys which like a butterfly effect has had the whole group easing tremendously.

Even the other boys have been ushered into Ailill's sphere of warmth much to Tom's displeasure. Aillil coddles the whole group now, Alphard's lingering hugs now evolve into Ailill fussing over the boy's messed up locks and crumb-filled face. Alphard when first experiencing the new attitude locked up in shock. Wide grey eyes stared up at Ailill in awe as slim, pale fingers mused through wavy black locks. and huffily cleaning his face from the after evidence of his morning toast.

"Honestly, Alp." Ailill hummed, tucking the boy's hair behind his ears. "You're twelve years old now, I should have hoped that you would have been able to keep your face clean after breakfast but evidence suggests otherwise."

"Uh," Alphard stutters, unable to move from being startled from Ailill's stunning beauty.

Such soft touch graced his face and kind eyes held him dear, Black was enamoured but just the sheer humanity Ailill gave him in only a few minutes. How cruel was his life that someone just looking at him kindly was enough to devote. Ailill was all hard words and contrasting actions, he mocks you for your ways then gently guides you to success. Black vowed to somehow get him into the family tree even if by simple semantics of being favoured enough to warrant a spot.

of course he knew his family wouldn't be too against it, a child of the Peverell line appearing on their tapestry? why that was only one step down on getting the boy to marry into the family, if Alphard somehow managed to actually marry Ailill the line of succession would be changed for sure, Orion would be moved unless they somehow got the Peverell to marry him instead. all such folly though as if Slytherin would ever let that happen, in fact the Black line might just have become extinct from mysterious circum stances instead.

Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately for Alphard Tom hip checks the boy from his beloved.

"Of course he's a child, not worthy of your attention." Tom made eyes cottishly at Ailill who only chuffed fondly at him. Regardless of the fact Tom was in fact younger than Alphard.

However Alphard wasn't the only one to be struck by the softness Ailill was giving out nor was he the only one to exploit it.

Avery was used to a very cold house, it wasn't unusual for his hands to turn blue and lips to pale dangerously. When he complained he was reprimanded extensively to stop acting like a brat and wisen up by circulating his core to keep himself warm. That was such bullshit, he was eleven with only a starting to mature core it would be near impossible for such a thing to happen. With the softness of Bealtaine edging his concern for others, Ailill had picked up that Avery rarely admitted he was cold even when all the others complained and urged to head inside. Ailill noticed that Avery would rub his hands together constantly, at first he thought it might be some weird cartoon villain trait the boy inherited but found soon out that it was actually 'cause the boy was frighteningly cold.

Peverell had always thought the boy was sickly pale, that it was his skin tone with no outside influencing factor but instead he was treated to the horror that the boy just couldn't seem to circulate heat. Blood in his body was in constant survival mode diverting it to the most important organs and neglecting his limbs leaving poor circulation and constant risk of nerve damage. Ailill had huffed outrageously at such actions and scolded the boy for not listening to his body when it was cold. However he softened when with whispering words the boy mumbled how it was always cold at home, that he didn't know how to listen to his body when it was always cold. Feeling pity for him Ailill had taken it upon himself to hold the boy's hand in order to gauge the temperature that it held before rubbing it between his own and conjuring up for badly needed heat. Tom was not happy about such actions but he too knew the pain of cold and decided it could slide but only this.

Strange isn't it that so many of the Avery line die from hypothermia at a young age yet no investigations were ever brought up.

Lestrange was usually one to take advantage of anything he could take his hand on, madness in him rushing like a tidal current ready to beat at the shore of his skin, a boundary that kept it in and fostered it like a loving parent. And usually bealtaine is the perfect time for this regardless of where you were and who you were with, all wizards and witches let their guard down in the month of may. It's like it was sown into their very being to drop shields and embrace themselves from within. Lestrange was always encouraged at home but at Hogwarts he's retrained.

Peverell saw his madness, he saw the likeness between the two of them. He didn't want the restraint like others, he wanted to know the beast underneath. He wanted to know him. And so he indulged, he spread out his claws that trailed along walls in eerie dark corridors, he appeared where older students lingered and he divulged his lineage preserved insanity and he dug. He dug intot he minds, the eyes, the body. Ailill was always ready to reset, he let Rastus have his fun clawing at the threads of what made a man human and beast.

Abraxas' keen eye caught the lienecy Ailill was dishing out. He tested at first, he would brush up against Ailill on days he came to know that Ailill would prefer to not have physical contact, it wasn't malicious but testing.

Of course Ailill with his current mood flinched upon first contact but grew soft at the sight of his friend and pulled the blond into an unexpected hug.

Abraxas was unsure of what to do but in the end gave into his more chulelish impulses and burrowed his face into Ailill's shoulder. Ailill brought his hand up to sooth through long blond hair and the boy moved closer like a cat to affection. Peverell hummed lowly as the dying light of the bedroom fire encased them in a soft glow. He swayed side to side with the beat of his hum enjoying the serenity.

He doesn't know why he had been so gentle as of late but the Bealtaine atmosphere has done something to him, it was like Ailill was constantly living in the moment with nothing on his shoulders but this also left him careless. He grew closer with these boys, he let them come close knowing one day he'd abandon them with little care.

Ailill continued to hold Abraxas who with every passing second melted like butter in a hot pan, becoming boneless. Abraxas buckled in Ailill's hold unexpectedly. So immersed in the calm atmosphere Ailill didn't realise he had been unconsciously releasing his magic flooding the room in a thick layer of powerful magic.

Ailill held the blond's limp form close to him looking rather awkward to him but composed to others which is exactly what Tom thought when he entered the room. Blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the sight, Tom closed the door softly while Ailill watched him wide eyed.

"What's this?"

"Doll, where have you been?" Ailill asked, smiling hesitantly, his grip flexing on the blond's form in his hold.

"Not where I'm needed evidently." Tom said with a blank face. Ailill knows that one, it was that carefully composed facade to better hide his rather volatile storm within.

"It's really not what it looks like-" Ailill didn't exactly plead but did proceed with caution.

"Well to me it looks like you two are rather… cosy." His words dripped like acid, bitter and burning.

Ailill fumbled holding Abraxas, arms tightening around his waist while the boy sighed softly too magic drunk to realise how much danger he's in. This was another reason Ailill doesn't allow himself to become close to others. Tom is possessive as so already known, he doesn't like to share Ailill's attention and to be honest Ailill was surprised that he hasn't already caused some serious trouble regarding their yearmates ease in trying to create bonds with Ailill. he supposes that while Tom might have family name, status and powerful magical capabilities he still needed an in to upper wizarding society. His legitimacy was already once questioned, no doubt that it would only be the first of many.

"He's just a bit magic tipsy, nothing to worry about. He's also a Malfoy; we cannot afford to slight them, not right now where we're questioned at every turn." Ailill carried the blond over to his bed and deposited him carefully upon the silk sheets. "As much as you hate it my dear we are still weak as of right now. We need to grow and foster bonds with everyone of considerable standing that we can and then some more."

Tom huffed slightly but burrowed his way to Ailill's side staking claim on what's his once more. "They have no right to be so close to you. I knew you first. I am your one and only." He looked up, chilling blue eyes straining into bitter whiskey. "Never forget that."

Affectionately Ailill wrapped an arm around Tom's smaller but so much more filled out form. "How could I ever forget with you right here beside me?"

Sated but not pleased Tom dragged the other from the room not prepared to leave him in the arms of some two piece wannabe.

Abraxas awoke alone and bleary, he knew he was with Peverell but then stuff started to get a bit hazy. He doesn't remember much, just warmth and safety. However he couldn't for the life of him understand why Slytherin was so picky with him for the following two weeks, sly comments here, passive aggressive digs there, completely blocking Abraxas from being near Ailill physically. No one would tell him why he received such disfavour until Alphard felt pity for the isolated boy.

"Word has it Slytherin caught you cosying up to Ailill, and well he wouldn't ever dare to treat Peverell so which means it falls to you. Ailill said it's just a passing, that it will go and he will return to his normal self but don't aggravate him any further."

It was mortifying, not the physical intimacy with Peverell but the fact that he was being snubbed by Slytherin, him a Malfoy, not anyone either but the heir being iced out with no way to clear it up. Usually he might be able to weasel his way back into good graces but the subject was too delicate to have it brushed away. Everyone could tell that Slytherin planned to court Peverell, there was no secret there, a match made in heaven on a political scale and should the two ever father a child the magical boundaries shouldn't be a thing they should think. The two bloodlines hadn't mixed for centuries therefore acts of inbreeding effects would be close to null.

Well, that's the general idea.

Many households have heard praises sung about the exclusive Peverell, his charming looks, exemplary magic, innovative thinking. They're just waiting for one gala, one soiree, one ball to sink their claws into him, to see if the words on paper match those in real life. Then the simpering would begin, they'd feel out his living rights, offer hospitality, foster a sense of owing then swoop in with a marriage prospect.

Oh don't you see little Peverell in exchange for our good grace all that is expected of you is to marry our heir, combine the bloodlines, father a child and let us reap the benefits of being among the family tree of one of the unagrable oldest wizarding families still alive.

Please, Marvolo would have their head on a stick. Abraxas wasn't foolish to delude himself into thinking that he could own Ailill's hand, not while Slytherin is in the picture. But…perhaps like many people of distinguished background they could…find fancy in each other? Lots of families cross spouses, as long as a child doesn't come of it everything is seen fair. Getting Slytheirn to agree is another story. There's always the possibility of going behind his back if all parties were partial but Abraxas quite likes his life. However he's sure that if Ailill were to personally ask for the arrangement Marvolo would contest before giving in but not without serious fury and drive to prove he is all Ailill needs.

What a pain.

However Alphard was right, after a horrendous two weeks Marvolo started to ease his icy glare and return to neutrality, personally Abraxas thinks it was because Ailill was becoming increasingly snappish at the tease air surrounding the group. The other boys didn't know who to stand with, sure Slytherin was a big name but it had been through the dirt for decades. The Malfoy name has been held high for centuries. It didn't help their decision that the Malfoys are the information hub. If a family got on their wrong side the whole bloodline will feel that disdain in ways of secrets being released.

With Ailill becoming increasingly hostile to all in the group due to the dividedness Marvolo was forced to drop his grudge usually he wouldn't but Ailill was even starting to take it out on him. Turning his back to the other in sleep, clipped short sentences, no nickname, lack of physical touch. Tom was having withdrawals and so he dropped it. He welcomed Malfoy back with neutral tones and passive conversation. It eased Ailill visibly to no longer play mediator between the group that would help elevate Tom to a better social and political standing, every bond he creates, every affectionate thread he weaves with others, it's all for Tom in the end. He was not about to have his hard work become trashed over some petty squabble that Tom decided needed to go on for longer than necessary.

Ailill has been searching for months in the library to answer his questions in regards to mind magic. It was a slow process with bits of knowledge and in a various amount of books all of which he had to piece together bit by bit to whom even with his superior mind was time consuming. Apparently since it was a violent speciality it was kept away from most especially children regardless if Hogwarts was the largest library within Britain. This meant if Ailill wanted any solid information he'd have to go looking for actual people with first hand accounts and primary sources. This however could blow up in his face if people become a bit too nosey in why the Peverell Heir wanted with mind magic. Of course he could pass it off as his theory on blocking spells while reading magical intent much like how Merrythought encouraged him to do but somehow he feels like that wouldn't hold up too well.

And so he was now brainstorming how to get around this, while Tom was quite happy with Ailill active engagement regarding extra curricular work he was not happy with the extra time this took up in Ailill's brain that could have been reserved for him, Tom Marvolo Riddle. It felt wasteful.

Dumbledore was also becoming increasingly interested in what seems to have peaked the recluse-refusing to work mind of one Ailill Peverell. It was unnerving if he had to say so about how the boy suddenly came about perked up with attentive eyes at every class, he still didn't do the standard of work that he could do though. Usually Albus would be more than happy to encourage this behaviour and nod the bot on to other directions of knowledge but recently talks have been stirring that Gellert was on the move and moving fast west.

His sources whisper of anticipation brewing, if Grindelwalds sudden interest in the isle of Britain beyond measures of political climate. Scouts report the man has sent others to sniff around muggle areas of London, particularly the more less well off. Suspiciously close to where one Mr Peverell lives, Wool's Orphanage now that really didn't sit well with the Transfiguration teacher, he had started enquiries about taking the boy in with the concern for his safety. His letters were sent days ago and yet no response has been heard but he didn't dwell on it too much, owl backlogs have been most vicious these past few month especially with all the wars going on, people are trying to keep contact with family, sort out estates and fortunes, order more protection for their home, etc. the mailing system was pushing limits.

However summer is pushing fast and with it the closing for Hogwarts until next September all Dumbledore can hope for is that he gets to Mr Peverell before Gellert can.