Tom liked living in Peverell Manor even more than he did Nott Manor. He hadn't intended to move in, especially not without telling anyone. He just never went home and somehow, clothes kept appearing for him, so he didn't want to say anything to throw off their tentative balance.

The first night had been spent talking until dawn. Tom went to work exhausted, but he wouldn't have done a thing differently.

The second night, Harry was cooking when he came back from work. He pressed him against the counter and had spent the night in Harry's bed, only to wake up deliciously sore.

The next morning, he had been scolded by Burke and promptly quit the store. There were greater things waiting for him, after all.

His next trip was to Gringotts. He never took a bloodline test, hadn't even known that was something to ask for the first time he visited the bank. Three drops of blood and he left with the Slytherin lordship ring on his finger.

A strange smile spread across Harry's face as he saw it.

"Lord Slytherin," he greeted with a bow of his head.

Pleasure ran through his body as he stepped closer to Harry.

"Lord Peverell," he murmured against his lips.

Harry tilted his head back and closed the distance. His fingers curled into Tom's collar as he tugged him closer.

Fangs nicked his tongue and blood filled his mouth.

Harry groaned against him, and everything spun for a moment before the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed. Bed? Tom blinked his eyes open and pulled back.

"Did you really just apparate us into your room?"

Harry blushed, ducking his head into Tom's neck. At first, he thought it was embarrassment, that despite being an adult, Harry had done accidental magic and managed not to splinch them. But then he felt those sharp teeth at his throat.

He tilted his head back, closing his eyes at the feel. He'd say Harry was part vampire, if Tom didn't enjoy doing the same so much.

Tom threaded his fingers into Harry's wild hair, keeping him there as he drew him down to the mattress. When he pulled back, Harry's lips were stained with Tom's blood and his pupils were blown wide behind his glasses.

"Beautiful," Tom muttered before he tugged Harry towards him once more.

Tom hadn't meant to stay away from Nott Manor for so many days. He wasn't avoiding going back (yes, he was) but he hadn't been ready to deal with the (anger, hurt, fear) annoyance he felt at Alexander, at his once friends, at the world. It was Alexander's home and perfectly in his right to bring whoever he wanted into it. He just wished… wanted…

No.

He stopped that train of thought before it could begin. Shoved it into a box and stuffed it beneath a loose floorboard. He knew better than to wish for things. Nothing ever came about from wishing.

Alexander paused as he saw Tom. His eyes went wide and his hands trembled.

"Where have you been? Zippy said you came in and then left immediately. He said you seemed angry when you left."

Tom swallowed uncomfortably at the weight of Alexander's eyes upon him, a dark look in his eyes that Tom couldn't easily identify without pushing past Alexander's Occlumency shields, something he knew would not be appreciated at that moment. "I'm sorry to have upset you."

He didn't mean the words, but he found it was better to apologize when people were angry. It usually diffused the situation.

"I'm not upset," he bit out. "I was worried. It's been days. I went to Borgin and Burkes and found Burke cursing your name. But he didn't know where you were and Nagini tried to track you and couldn't." He clenched his fists, blinking several times as he glanced away. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "We thought you were dead."

Tom blinked. The wards at Peverell Manor must have been stronger than he thought. If the manor had been abandoned for centuries since the last Lord Peverell, how had they managed to charge? House elves were sustained by their masters' magic, so there had to be someone who was technically the head of the family, and therefore keeping the wards going, in order for Mipsy and the other elves to live as long as they had.

Theoretically, Harry could have charged them upon his arrival in this time, but that didn't explain how the elves had lived so long. He wondered, briefly, if Harry would let him near his ward stone, and then decided that wasn't even a question. Harry had hosted his soul for almost two decades. Of course, he would understand Tom's desire to learn more about the Archaic Magics that guarded a home that belonged to a bloodline Tom was also a part of.

Alexander's eyes narrowed. "You haven't heard a word I've said?"

Tom opened his mouth to deny it, but what would even be the point? Seven years of rooming together meant that Alexander knew a fair few of his tells when it came to lying.

Instead, he picked the last thing he had heard him say, which was, "You really thought I was dead?"

Which was, if he was being honest, more than a bit mind-boggling. Nagini would be inconvenienced if he died, especially since he was the only speaker she knew. But he thought Alexander knew more about the darker magics that Tom had dabbled in. Did they really think someone had gotten the better of him in a fight? That his own experiments had somehow blown him up? Were their opinions of his abilities really that low?

Alexander stared and Tom realized he had said the last part aloud. Alexander let out a sigh, the fight leaving his body. "You do realize this has nothing to do with ability? We care about you, despite the fact that you don't seem to be able to get that through your thick skull."

Oh.

The idea that two people claimed to care was a bit far-fetched. He didn't trust it. Sure, they probably thought that they meant it now, but eventually, when they saw he wasn't useful to them anymore, they would move on. They always did.

People didn't care about him for him. It was just a fact he learned growing up, one of those unimpeachable facts. Mrs. Cole had never let him forget it. Dumbledore hadn't helped matters, always watching him with suspicion. And the reactions from those he had considered himself to be close with upon graduation, upon Tom not changing the world for them, had only confirmed that. People only cared about what he could do for them.

Even Harry didn't actually care about him, not really. He just didn't want the Dark Lord to rise again. Tom was going to enjoy whatever this was for as long as it lasted, but he didn't anticipate it ending well. It was best not to let himself get too attached in the long run.

If not even his own mother had cared enough to live for him, if his own father hadn't cared enough to stay, why would anyone else?

"It's just… let someone know before you disappear for days on end. Please."

Tom nodded, but he'd make no promises.

"So, where were you?"

He shrugged. "I ran into Lord Peverell and he decided to ask some questions for his Muggleborn and Muggle-Raised Advocacy Bill."

"For a week?" Alexander asked incredulously.

"There was much to discuss."

He let out a breath. What did he want Tom to say?

And then, just as he was about to leave—

"Did it have anything to do with the guests I had over?"

For just a moment, rage flashed through him. But only for a moment, only until he could shut it away again.

"Of course not. Why should I care who you have over?"

Something flashed across Alexander's face too quickly for him to identify. If only Alexander was a less competent Occlumens. Ah, well, it was what it was. It wouldn't do to alienate the person allowing him to live at his house, not before things ran their natural course. And then, Tom would be forced to call in the life debt owed him and regret ever allowing himself to live in the fantasy that someone cared.