Tom stepped out of the floo, glancing around the living room for his father and frowning when he didn't see him. He dropped his school bag on the floor and listened for any noise in the house, but his nose picked up on where to go before his ears did. He followed the scent of lemons into the kitchen to see Harry leaning with his back against the counter as he mixed something in a metal bowl.

There was some dough sitting on the table, the wood covered with streaks of flour. Harry must have swiped at his face as he had worked on it, because there was some flour along his left cheek and in his hair. Tom decided not to mention it, wanting to see how long it took Harry to notice.

Harry looked up and grinned, "Hey, kiddo. Don't go getting any ideas, these are for after dinner."

"Can I lick the leftover glaze?" Tom tilted his head back and widened his eyes, knowing the combination usually made his father more likely to give him what he wanted.

"Oh, I suppose." Harry sighed, as if it was some major concession he was giving Tom.

Tom rolled his eyes and went over and hugged Harry around the waist. Harry reached down and ran a hand through his hair, and from the snort that followed Tom could only assume that he must have some flour in it now. He thought about complaining, but it wasn't worth the effort.

"How was school?" Harry asked.

"It was boring," Tom let go and went and got himself a glass of water. "Matt was being a right tosser again, but he got in trouble with the teacher so it all worked out."

"And I'm sure you didn't have anything to do with that," Harry laughed at Tom's attempt to look innocent. "Any homework we have to worry about over the weekend?"

"Yeah," Tom took a moment to gulp down his drink before looking back at Harry. "I have to start working on a family tree."

"Oh." Harry paused in his whisking, "How do you want to do it? Do you want to do the tree with your adopted family, or your biological family?"

For a second, Tom believed it was a poor joke. He and Harry had a long standing disagreement on whether he was funny or not, and Tom was firmly in the camp that his father was the least funny person alive. But Harry just kept whisking, not even trying to gauge his reaction.

"What?"

Harry looked up, "What what?"

"I'm adopted?!"

"I never told you?" Harry blinked at him, obviously confused for a long second, before his expression turned to one of horror. "Oh, Merlin, I never told you. I'm sorry, Tom, I completely forgot."

"How could you forget I'm adopted?!" Tom went to put his glass on the counter, trying to hide his shaking hands. "We're not even family?"

Harry set the bowl down and came over to him, kneeling in front of him and grabbing his trembling hands.

"We are family," Harry said gently. "You're my son."

"We're not family!" Tom cried, trying to tug his hands away. "We're not even related!"

"Oh?" Harry's face was impossible to read as he let Tom tug his hands away and put some distance between them, "So you don't love me anymore?"

Tom's rage quickly sputtered out to be replaced with mild horror that Harry would ever think that, "Of course I still do!"

"And I love you," Harry smiled at him. He reached out a hand and after a second Tom stepped closer, letting Harry pull him into a hug. "I love you, and I have raised you as my son. You are mine, you little idiot, whether we're blood kin or not."

"But family has to be blood related," Tom protested.

"So Ron's not family?"

"He—" Tom faltered for a long moment. With the shock and anger of an assumed betrayal faded to a low thrum in the back of his mind, he could think a little more clearly, and it was easy to see Harry's logic now. "He is."

"Even though he isn't blood related?"

"He's a snake," Tom muttered, because of course he couldn't be blood related if he was a snake.

"But he's family either way," Harry persisted.

Tom frowned, but nodded.

"You don't have to be related to love someone and accept them as family," Harry told him. "Family can be chosen, and that's what I did with you."

Tom searched his face, unsure what he was looking for. "But… how? How did you… get me?"

"I did what a lot of parents do. I knew I wanted a child, and I evaluated my life and decided I was ready and responsible enough to raise one. I didn't have a partner and I wasn't overly interested in finding one just to have a kid with them, so I decided to go to an orphanage instead."

An orphanage, Tom thought with horror—it was practically a grocery store for kids. He had been in a place like that?

"I don't remember it," Tom realized with some relief.

"You were just a baby," Harry's smile turned into a grin. "I think you had just turned six months old when I met you, so you were still chubby-cheeked and hadn't learned how to talk or anything yet."

"But why me?" Tom couldn't help but ask. "Surely I wasn't the only baby there…"

"You weren't," Harry admitted easily. He held out his hand palm up and a tiny blue ball of flame popped into life, a sight that Tom was incredibly used to seeing. He had been absolutely fascinated with it when he was younger, and could remember countless times when he had fallen asleep watching as it danced while Harry read to him. "But I knew you were like me, and growing up surrounded by muggles who would have seen you as a freak… Well, I know what that's like. I didn't want you to go through it."

Tom vowed to come back to that little comment later, because Harry so rarely mentioned his life before him.

"What about my re-" Tom cut himself off and then corrected himself, "My… Biological family?"

"The orphanage did give me some information, and it's what I always told you, Tommy." Harry stood up, "Your mom died not long after you were born. Nothing is known of your father, but your mother didn't have a ring on her hand so they assumed that she was unmarried and that your biological dad might not even know you exist. We could try and look for some more information, but I honestly don't know how much we'll be able to get with just names."

"Oh…" a new realization struck him, "Wait, does this mean I'm a muggleborn?"

Harry gave him a long look, "Would that be such a bad thing?"

"No," Tom didn't even have to think about it before answering. "I just always thought I got my magic from you."

"Oh, right." Harry chuckled, "Well, I'm sure my magic has influenced yours, since I've raised you for so long, but I do believe that you're at least a half blood based off of your mother's last name."

"What is it?" Tom asked eagerly.

"Go wash up, first. I'll get dinner going and tell you more then."

"Come on, Dad-"

"Ah, no whining!" Harry poked him in the side. "You'll learn what you want in a couple of minutes, so have some patience."

Tom huffed, not interested in something as silly as patience when there was something he wanted to learn, but he turned and left to go wash up anyway. He could hear Harry mutter something behind him, but only caught the word 'Ravenclaw'.