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The institution of marriage was, in Tom Riddle’s opinion, a grossly inflated concept.
For some, it was a sacred institution, a fundamental right. For others, an inevitable rite of passage, placing their entire life into the hands of another person.
Tom, ever the realist—or pessimist, as Harry would teasingly call him—had never quite grasped the premise of it.
From an early age, he had viewed marriage with disdain, a ritual for those naive enough to believe another person could hold the key to their happiness.
His mother, Merope Gaunt, had taught him that. She had married a man, driven more by desperation than love, enchanted him to ensure his affection, only to be abandoned when those charms wore thin. Her death, alone and destitute, giving birth to him on the steps of an orphanage, only cemented his convictions: binding one’s life to another was a vulnerability he’d never indulge in.
Yet life—and, unfortunately, love—had a way of unraveling even the strongest resolve.
Tom inhaled deeply, his fingers brushing across the empty space beside him. The soft glow of the morning light filtered through the curtains, and he desperately missed the tousled mop of black hair and warm body that usually greeted him.
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 8:12 a.m. His morning routine was efficient: a practiced dance through the apartment. The best suit, the strongest coffee—black and unsweetened.
His reflection in the hallway mirror offered no criticism, though it rarely needed to. The enchanted mirror, sultry as always, whispered, “Flawless, Mr. Riddle.”
Tom allowed a ghost of a smirk. “Naturally,” he murmured back.
The day outside was glorious —warm, just shy of summer's heat. A few soft clouds floated against a pristine blue sky. Adjusting his tie, Tom vanished in a swirl of smoke.
—øØø—
He reappeared with a crack on a quiet, leafy lane, Potter Manor looming just beyond a row of impeccably kept hedges. He allowed himself a brief moment to appreciate the place. Potter Manor wasn’t as ostentatious as Malfoy Manor but had a quiet, old-money elegance that spoke volumes. The wildflower gardens, though carefully maintained, looked like a vibrant sea of color that even Tom found mildly impressive.
Crossing through the wards, he felt them shiver as they registered his presence. They were designed to keep intruders out—and while he’d never been added into the family wards, they didn’t refuse his entrance.
At exactly 9:00 a.m., he knocked on the heavy wooden door. The silence that followed was broken only by the creaking of the house until, at last, the door swung open to reveal Lily Potter. Her red hair gleamed in the morning light, and her familiar green eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of him. She stood poised in the doorway, arms crossed, blocking entry.
"Tom," she said, surprise evident in her voice, though her smile was stiff. "What brings you here?"
“Mrs. Potter," Tom greeted her with a smooth smile, inclining his head. "I do apologize for the early hour—"
Her lips pressed together, a tight smile forming that didn’t reach her eyes. “If you’re looking for Harry, I’m afraid he’s still asleep.” She leaned against the doorframe, her posture rigid.
“Not surprising.” His annoyance flickered at her defensive stance, a fleeting frustration as he contemplated how to navigate the looming conversation. “But I’m here for you and Mr. Potter.”
Lily blinked again, her brow furrowing in confusion, momentarily losing her composure. “Oh? Well, Harry’s promised to help us with the garden today, so I’m afraid we’re all a bit busy.” Her tone cold.
He tilted his head slightly. “I won’t take up much of your time.”
Mrs. Potter made no move to invite him inside and so Tom continued. “I’ll keep it brief for both our sakes. However, now that your son and I have been seeing each other for—”
“Tom,” she interrupted, her expression hard. Her interruption felt like a slap, and he took a slow breath, steadying himself. He was doing this for Harry. Always for Harry. She leaned slightly against the doorframe, her gaze pitying. “Listen, while I want to respect Harry’s choice to spend time with you, there’s nothing for us to discuss.”
“Respectfully, Mrs. Potter, I have been dating your son for the past nine years. We live together,” he stated smoothly.
Lily shifted uncomfortably, her fingers twitching. “Ah, well, I’m happy that Harry gets to enjoy his youth.”
“Will you invite me inside?” he pressed.
“What?” She blinked in surprise.
Brushing his hand over his suit, he glanced down momentarily. “We’re having a conversation—if we can even call it that—and I’d appreciate it if we could do so in a more suitable setting.”
He leaned slightly forward, raising his eyebrows as he studied her frowning face. “So, will you invite me inside?”
Her brow furrowed deeper, before lifting her chin defiantly. “No.”
A deep sigh escaped Tom’s lips. Why he was even having this conversation—with this woman—was vexing. But Harry loved his mother, despite her many faults. Curses would not be appreciated he reminded himself.
His silence prompted her to continue. “Listen, young man. This is my house—my home. It’s quite rude to just show up on my doorstep and demand entry. Just who do you think you are?”
Her remark made him chuckle. He raised an eyebrow, watching as her cheeks flushed slightly, anger spilling into her features. “Well, I am the Prime Minister of the British wizarding community. While that doesn’t give me the right to barge into anyone’s home, I’d argue that my fiancé’s parents’ house isn’t such an odd place to be, don’t you think?”
Lily’s body went rigid, her mouth slightly agape as she raised a trembling hand to it. “What?”
Upon closer inspection, she looked pale. “Fiancé?” she whispered.
“I proposed, and Harry said yes; we’re getting married.”
“But you can’t—” she began.
“Oh, dear Mrs. Potter, it seems you’re not quite informed about the traditions of marriage and bonding in our society. “ His tone remained steady, but an edge crept into his voice as he leaned slightly closer, eyes gleaming. “It’s easy to forget, considering your upbringing. Muggles have a tendency to hold such redundant opinions. No?”
Lily sputtered angrily, stepping forward to jab her finger into Tom’s chest, her face a mask of fury. The door swung open behind her. “How dare you accuse me of such vile things? I would never judge Harry for dating a—a man.”
“You’re the problem,” she hissed.
Tom refused to back down, meeting her fierce gaze.“Really? Could’ve fooled me.” His tone was smooth, almost taunting, as he watched her body tense further, anger radiating off her in palpable waves.
“I’ve never understood why Harry even wasted his time on you. Your disgusting politics and policies—taking children from their homes, secluding us even further from everyone else? Disgusting.” Her fists clenched at her sides as she spoke.
“You’re aware that under my party, we’ve initiated new and improved contact with many magical communities worldwide?”
She laughed loudly, the sound harsh. “Stop playing the fool—you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Tom shrugged and looked down at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half-smile, his eyes glinting with mockery. “Ah, withdrawal from the Muggles? Protection of our kind? Yes, such vile behavior—I’m doing everything in my power to safeguard our society’s future.”
“You’re just kidnapping children. Obliviating parents.”
His expression darkened, and he leaned in slightly, his voice a low, steady whisper that cut through the tension.“Believe what you will, Mrs. Potter. It doesn’t matter—”
“You’re just using Harry to further improve your political standing.”
Tom’s gaze turned icy. "Political manoeuvre? Hardly. I’m marrying the man I love. But, of course," he added with a faint smirk, "it wouldn’t hurt to unite two of the oldest magical bloodlines in Britain. Surely, even you can see the value in that."
Lily shock her head, her body trembling with indignation.
Footsteps approaching interrupted them. “Lily? I’ve finished preparing—” James Potter stepped into view, his hair tousled and a warm smile on his face, an aura of calm washing over the heated exchange. “Oh, Mr. Riddle! What brings you here? Harry is still asleep, I think — he isn’t much of a morning person — but you know that.”
Tom straightened, sensing the shift in atmosphere as James stepped into the doorway, his presence radiating a calm acceptance that contrasted sharply with Lily’s tension.
“Is… everything alright?” James asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced between his wife and Tom.
“Mr. Potter, good morning,” Tom replied, maintaining a polite tone. “We were just having a little… chat. I meant to speak with you both. May I come inside?”
“Yes! Of course—please, let’s move to the tea room.” James gestured with a wave of his hand, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Lily just finished redecorating it a couple of weeks ago—you have to see how gorgeous it is!”
Lily’s expression softened, but uncertainty still flickered in her gaze. Tom stepped over the threshold, the warmth of the house enveloping him. As they moved toward the tea room, the walls adorned with family photos and bright flowers created an inviting atmosphere that made the tension feel almost surreal.
As they stepped into the tea room, sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the elegantly decorated space. James motioned for Tom to sit down, while Lily remained standing, her posture tense.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” James said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents between his wife and Tom.
“Very,” Tom replied as he surveyed the vibrant flowers and delicate china. He took a seat in a soft chair. James flicked his wand, and a set of cups and a steaming pot of tea floated in from the kitchen. He smiled sheepishly. “Our house-elves are on holiday.”
After a moment, James asked, “Now, what brings you here, Tom?”
Tom cleared his throat. “Harry and I… we’re getting married,” he announced, his voice steady but edged with a cold confidence. “In six months.”
The room fell silent, the only sound the faint ticking of a clock on the wall. James looked surprised but pleased. “That’s wonderful news! Congratulations!”
Lily, however, forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “How charming, Tom. Just charming,” she said, her voice dripping with insincerity as she sat down beside James on the couch.. “I suppose you think this is some grand achievement?” As though their argument only moments earlier had yet to happen.
Tom met her gaze, unflinching. “It is, actually. Harry has been nervous about telling you both. He didn’t want to upset you.”
“Upset me?” Lily scoffed, crossing her arms. “As if I could be upset by such a ridiculous notion. Marriage is supposed to be sacred, not a political statement.”
“Lily,” James said softly, glancing at her. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it has to be.”
Tom interjected, his voice calm yet assertive. “I understand your concerns, Mrs. Potter. But I assure you, my intentions are genuine.”
She inhaled sharply, her face rising in anger. “See—this is exactly why Harry can’t trust you. Manipulating people right and left—using them like tools.”
"Enough," James interrupted, his voice calm but firm. He placed a hand on Lily's arm, pulling her back slightly. "Lily, please. Let’s not turn this into another political argument. This is about Harry"
Lily glared at Tom for a long moment before turning back to her husband. "You know I’m right, James. You’ve seen the way Tom operates. He’s using Harry as a pawn—"
"Harry’s not a pawn," James said quietly, his eyes soft but resolute. "He’s an adult, Lily. He knows what he’s doing."
Lily’s expression faltered, pain flickering in her eyes. "He’s our son, James. I just don’t want to see him hurt."
Tom watched the exchange with a detached calmness. "Mrs. Potter," he said softly, his voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of steel, "I understand your concerns. But Harry made his choice. We’re getting married, and whether or not you approve won’t change that."
Lily opened her mouth to respond, but James cut in, his voice gentle but firm. "Lily, why don’t you wake Harry? Let him speak for himself."
For a moment, it looked as though she might argue, but then she nodded stiffly, her lips pressed into a tight line. Without another word, she stood and walked stiffly out of the room.
James turned back to Tom, his smile returning, though there was a hint of weariness in his eyes. "She’s just… protective, you know? It’s not easy for her to let go."
Tom nodded, though his expression remained guarded. "I understand." He added for the sake of politeness.
"She’ll come around," James said quietly, almost as if trying to convince himself.
"She’s not wrong, you know," James said after a moment, his tone thoughtful. "About your politics, I mean. I don’t agree with everything you’ve done."
Tom raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for James to continue.
"But I do trust Harry," James added, his gaze steady. "And I trust him to know what’s best for him. He loves you, and that’s enough for me."
Tom’s expression softened ever so slightly, though he remained composed. "I appreciate that, Mr. Potter."
James chuckled. "Call me James, for Merlin’s sake. We’re practically family now, aren’t we?"
Tom attempted to smile softly and there was a warmth to his expression that hadn’t been there before. "I suppose we are."
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed, and Harry appeared in the doorway, his hair even messier than usual. His eyes half-closed with sleep and still dressed in comfortable pyjamas.
"Tom?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Tom stood and crossed the room in a few swift strides, his hand resting on Harry’s arm. "I came to inform your parents. About the wedding." He didn’t mention the fact that he had proposed 7 months earlier. That Harry had slept less and worried more. Incapable and terrified of telling his mother.
Harry blinked, clearly still groggy, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Oh, right. The wedding." Harry pulled Tom a bit closer and looked into Tom's eyes. “Thank you.” He whispered, mostly - only - for Tom.
James grinned, standing up to grasp Harrys hand and pull him away from Tom and into a tight embrace. "Congrats, son! I’m really happy for you."
Harry’s smile widened. ”Thanks, Dad."
Lily reappeared in the doorway, her expression unreadable as she watched the scene unfold. For a moment, she stood there in silence, her eyes lingering on Harry and Tom.
Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet. "Harry," she began, her tone soft but strained. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Harry turned to face her, his expression gentle but resolute. “I’m sure.” He looked at Tom and smiled warmly. “I love him.”
Lily’s face crumpled slightly, her shoulders sagging as she let out a heavy breath. "If that’s what you want," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"It is," Harry said firmly, stepping forward to hug her. "I promise, Mum. It’s what I want."
Lily hugged him back, her grip tight but trembling. Over his shoulder, her eyes met Tom’s, and though there was still a flicker of distrust, there was also something else—resignation.
Tom had to suppress a triumphant smile.
—øØø —
Later that evening, after a long and emotionally charged day, Harry and Tom finally returned home. The sky was deepening into dusk, and the warm, golden glow of the setting sun bathed their flat in a soft, soothing light. Harry sighed as he dropped his keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes before heading straight for the bedroom. Tom followed silently, his sharp eyes watching Harry’s every move. He could sense the tension still lingering from their visit to the Potters, but he didn’t speak.
As Harry collapsed onto the bed, Tom sat down beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. For a few moments, neither of them said anything. The only sound was the soft hum of the city outside their window.
Finally, Harry spoke, his voice quiet but laced with exhaustion. "She’ll never trust you, you know."
Tom didn’t respond right away, his hand gently running through Harry’s unruly hair. "It doesn’t matter."
Harry turned his head to look up at him, his green eyes searching Tom’s face. "It matters to me."
Tom’s expression softened ever so slightly as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Harry’s forehead. "I know."
Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he relaxed into Tom’s touch. "It’s just… I hate being stuck in the middle like this. Between you and her."
"You’re not in the middle," Tom murmured, his hand still threading through Harry’s hair. "You’ve chosen. You’re with me."
Harry opened his eyes again, gazing up at Tom with a mixture of love and a glint of mischief. “You’re such a sore loser.”
"And your husband-to-be."
Harry smiled faintly. ”Yeah. I guess you are." Tom watched him for a long moment, his heart tightening in his chest. For all his power, for all his ambition, Harry was the one thing in his life that felt beyond his control. And that terrified him.
But he wouldn’t let it show. Instead, he leaned down and kissed Harry softly on the lips, his hand resting on Harry’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his palm. "I love you," Tom whispered softly, his voice barely audible.
Harry smiled knowingly. “I know, I love you too."
The End