Despite now living in the Nott Manor, life carried on rather unchanged. He found he didn't miss his dingy little flat. It had been the first space that was truly his, and yet, the dark wood furniture and cool colors of the room he had claimed in Nott Manor felt more like home than anything since Hogwarts.

Nagini, to Tom's great surprise, had opted to stay in England for the foreseeable future. He hadn't excepted her to, not when a cure could still be out there. He wanted that for her.

He had gotten branded as cold and callous as a child, unfeeling, and heartless. When he was young, he believed them too. It wasn't until he met Alexander that he realized it wasn't that he wasn't fully any of those things. It was easier to be cold than to care about people who would hurt him. Feelings could easily be turned into weapons.

"Master be having guests," Zippy, one of the Nott house elves, greeted Tom upon his return that evening. "Master's guests be joining Master for dinner. Will Mr. Riddle be joining as well?"

Tom blinked. Since moving in, Alexander hadn't had guests. Who would possibly be there?

"Who are they?" Tom asked, trying to reign in his temper.

There was only one reason for an ambush like this. Alexander had to know Tom wouldn't be happy with his guests.

"Messrs Black, Lestrange, Malfoy, and Rosier has arrived."

He might have gone in and pretended he wasn't angry. Any other day, he would have felt like it. But that had been before he spent his birthday getting drunk in a pub alone, after being told he wasn't welcome at the Yule Ball. But it wasn't just that. This had been going on since they graduated Hogwarts, slowly chipping away. One disappointment after the next and it just had begun to feel like he wasn't relevant anymore. It wasn't a feeling he liked, but he didn't really feel like dealing with it today.

He turned and went back through the floo.

And that was how he found himself wandering until he stood before the same pub he had met Harry in that night. And, as luck would have it, his timing couldn't have been better. Harry strolled up to him, a grin on his face.

"Tom! I was hoping to run into you."

"I'm still in the shop." He raised his brow. "You can stop in any time."

Harry blushed, rubbing his neck a bit sheepishly. "I didn't want to stop by empty-handed."

He pulled a package from his robes. In the flickering streetlight, it was easy enough to see it was clumsily wrapped and rather small box. Harry offered it to Tom. Beneath the warm glow of the lights, it was almost romantic. But that was a ridiculous notion. What would a Pureblood lord like Peverell want with a no-name Half-blood like Tom?

He took the gift cautiously, sliding his finger beneath the tape… Sellotape? What was a Pureblood lord doing wrapping his gifts with Muggle Sellotape? He glanced up at Harry briefly, but the man watched him as excited as a puppy.

The box itself inside the paper wasn't notable. He frowned slightly and opened it anyway and his breath caught in his throat.

"Do you like it?"

Like it? It was Salazar bloody Slytherin's locket. Of course, he liked it. But how had Harry gotten a hold of it? How had he even known?

He traced the curving tail of the snake and looked up at Harry, who was still watching him expectantly. "It's a wonderful gift."

He had dreamed about it since he learned of its existence from Morfin Gaunt, all those years ago.

Harry grinned and Tom couldn't help but lean in, threading his fingers through that wild hair as he drew Harry close. Harry responded enthusiastically, gripped his cloak, and pulled him until there was no space between them.

"I think now's a good time to get your floo address, darling," Tom whispered in Harry's ear, his voice hoarse. He savored how Harry shuddered against him.

And yet, Harry pulled back slightly. "How about dinner first?"

Tom nodded. Any sarcastic remarks fled him as Harry pulled away and lifted the locket from the box. He placed it around Tom's neck and it was heavier than he expected. The warm pulse of Old Magic sang through him and he couldn't resist reaching up to run his fingers along the snake that formed the S.

Harry took his hand and guided him down the street, away from the pub. A nighttime stroll along a gaslit street as snow fell softly around them felt like the epitome of romance. Harry couldn't have done better with this if he had planned, Tom thought.

The restaurant Harry led him to was a good deal fancier than Tom expected, and he glanced down at his clothes, robes he had bought in a second-hand shop. He certainly wasn't dressed for it and it was no wonder that the Malfoys and his other school friends looked at him like he was a Mudblood once more.

He wasn't going to argue with Harry though, and transfigured his robes to look, well, a bit nicer, and vowed to himself if whatever this was continued, he would buy himself a decent set of robes.

"Lord Peverell," the maître d' exclaimed as he saw Harry, "we weren't expecting you tonight, but we have a table open, if that will suit you and your guest."

Harry smiled charmingly at the man. "That will suit us quite well."

The restaurant was dimly lit, filled with private tables, and Tom knew it was the kind of place he would never be able to afford. He didn't want to assume charity on Harry's part, not after he gave him such a priceless gift, but what could he do?

He would never say it though. He didn't want Harry to think he was too Muggle. The menu was long, listing multiple courses in a very Pureblood style. No wonder a lord of the Wizengamot would feel comfortable eating in such a place.

Tom felt eyes upon him, and he looked up. Harry watched him, his head slightly tilted like a cat's, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. How he ever mistook him as a boy, he'd never know.

"You must have questions."

"A few." Tom's fingers touched the locket, a calculated movement that drew Harry's Avada green eyes there.

"It belongs to you," Harry said.

Tom's brow furrowed. That wasn't the explanation he thought he'd get. He knew it belonged to him, had belonged to his mother, but how did Harry know that?

Harry let out a breath. "I don't know if this is really a conversation we should have here."

He glanced around and Tom understood. Even with the privacy wards around the table, there was always a chance to be overheard. Whatever answers Harry gave, Tom didn't want others to know them.

"How about something easy then?" Tom smiled and took a drink of water. "How's your neck?"

Harry's fingers touched the bite mark almost involuntarily. "It's fine."

"And the venom?"

His fingers stilled.

He was curious to see how Harry would answer. There were only a few possible explanations, but Harry reacted as if he understood his question. There was no fear, no furrowed brow, none of the classic reactions he usually received when he spoke Parseltongue to other people.

Tom raised his eyebrow at Harry's silence.

His fingers dropped back to the table.

"That's actually a bit complicated." He let out a breath, but didn't speak until the food appeared before them and their glasses refilled themselves. "The short answer is my mother."

Tom blinked.

"To everyone else, she was a Muggleborn."

"She wasn't," Tom hazarded a guess.

Harry shook his head. "Her mother was a squib and her father was from a squib line of descendants of Slytherin. My parents died when I was young, so I didn't find out that it was from her until later on."

So they were alike in that. Only his father was clearly a Pureblood for Harry to inherit the Wizengamot lordship.

"That doesn't sound so complicated." He studied Harry. "So you speak."

"I do."

And then Harry smiled sharply. With all his teeth bared, his fangs were visible and Tom felt him own fangs drop in response as he felt himself harden. He shifted in his seat.

He never had anyone who he could speak with. Nagini only understood Parseltongue when she was in snake form. For the most part, the Purebloods who so openly worshipped Salazar Slytherin's supposed vision were terrified of the language.

Suddenly, he was not hungry at all. Venom filled his mouth and he swallowed back hard. How had Harry managed to control it so well? He had kept it back during their night together and the morning that followed. Tom certainly hoped that he would have remembered if he had lost control.

Harry held out his hand. "Let's go."

Tom took his hand and they apparated away.