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hp_goldenageTitle: The Best Journey Takes You Home
Author:![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
ChokolatteJedi
Characters/Pairings: Albus Dumbledore/Tom M Riddle
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 3,182
Content/Warning(s): Canon divergence, manipulative Tom, no Horcrux AU
Summary/Prompt: "Albus/Tom: What might’ve been different if Tom had been accepted as DADA professor."
A/N: It took him longer than he anticipated, but Tom finally found his way back home.
Read at AO3 or below:
Tom paused in his trek to look out the window over the snow-covered ground. He loved seeing Hogwarts, in all her glory, in every season. But on a night like this, with the glow from the many windows casting a warm glow onto the glistening snow… Well, it might very well be his favorite. Lazy summer days, with a light patter of rain and green as far as the eye could see were a close second, but only because Tom had never been able to enjoy those kinds of days here as a child. Discovering them when he returned was just one of many delightful surprises the castle had saved for him in his golden years.
A wave of nostalgia washed over him at the thought. Once upon a time, Tom had been afraid that he would never see Hogwarts for any length of time again. When he had been working for old man Burke — who didn't care about his Founder's heritage at all — Tom had despaired that he would ever be able to return to the castle that, by rights, should have been his!
But, on the day he was set to leave the old man and begin his world travels, Tom had been unpacking several new boxes of books and happened upon a treatise on mastery studies around the world.
Tom smiled, seeing his reflection do the same in the window. Even now, that very book sat in pride of place on Tom's shelf, and he had loaned it to several of his more promising students over the years.
Back then, Tom had been forced to pay for it out of his meager savings — though with the amount he had taken from Smith, Burke wasn't actually gouging Tom as much as he thought he was — but it had been a revelation.
Because there, in the appendix in the back, where several lesser known apprenticeship topics were listed, had been Parseltongue. Tom had already planned out his great grand progress around the world, and though he had intended to dip into India briefly, he hadn't thought they actually had any old magics worth studying. But a little more research had shown that they practically revered Parselmouths because of the large populations of the magical snake creatures known as Naga, and the muggle belief that snakes were sacred.
It wasn't until Tom had arrived in India's magical district, however, completely changing his planned order of things, and did a little more research, that he discovered the information that would change his life. Tom had decided to use the last name 'Gaunt', instead of 'Riddle'. As much as he hated the particular members of his immediate Gaunt family, there was no denying that the name was an old magical one, with ties to Slytherin, and it sounded in no way Muggle.
Tom had been completely unprepared to find a living family of Gaunt Parselmages in India, including several defense masters. One of his ancestors in the early seventeenth century — Ciaran Gaunt — had been banished from the family after it came out that he was a squib. With no knowledge of the muggle world, he had gone to an orphanage, just like Tom, and then volunteered to join a company with lots of sailing ships that were willing to train young sailors. Despite being a squib, he was still a Parselmouth, and had left the company in India when he discovered the same thing that Tom had. He'd made good money as a muggle snake-charmer, married a local magical woman, and started a whole new line of magical Gaunt Parselmages.
Once he proved his heritage, the family welcomed Tom with open arms. They no more held Tom's muggle father against him than he held Ciaran's squibness or his wife's muggleborn status against them. Tom understood perfectly well what it felt like to be a muggleborn, and it wasn't Ciaran's fault that only a witch with non-magical family was willing to marry a squib. Their resulting children and grandchildren had all been powerfully magical, and the name of Gaunt was well respected in magical India not because of a historical association with Slytherin, but because of their own modern prowess.
After that was settled, several of his relations, who insisted Tom call them Aunt and Uncle, immediately began training him in the family trade. Once he had attained his Parselmagic mastery, his defense mastery had quickly followed. Tom had been able to use his family connections to meet many masters in the field, and ended up training first under a Chinese master that his uncle knew, and then going to Egypt, to another family of Parseltongues, to complete his studies.
Tom could never have been anything but a Slytherin, but having access to the library at Alexandria to complete his studies was a boon that even non-Ravenclaws would jump at.
His access also allowed Tom to perform his own research, beyond those needed to complete his defense mastery. He had heard the muggle saying, long before Hogwarts, that those who didn't study history were doomed to repeat it. Tom had lived through what the muggles called World War II, and had also seen from afar the defeat of Grindelwald by Dumbledore.
Thanks to his Gaunt family in India, Voldemort also knew the story of Ciaran's younger sister, Gormlaith, who had also been brought down by a 'light' branch of the Gaunt family. Tom had once intended to rule magical Britain — perhaps muggle Britain as well! — and his early years at Hogwarts had shown him that cozying up to purebloods and adopting their beliefs was the obvious way to achieve his goals.
But in Alexandria, as he finished his Defense mastery and began a history one, Tom became determined to discover where Grindelwald, and Gormlaith, and Germany had gone wrong, and how Dumbledore and the allies had come out on top.
A noise stirred Tom out of his reminiscing, and he half turned away from the window, expecting to see a student out of their dorm. Instead he found that the knight in the painting behind him had fallen off of his horse, apparently having fallen asleep upright. Tom shook his head fondly, but took advantage of the happenstance to resume his patrol. He wasn't usually prone to such flights of reminiscing, but this time of year seemed to bring them on.
Suffice to say he had easily obtained not only his mastery in magical history, but all the information he needed to conquer magical Britain properly. Armed with his three masteries, his plans, and his allies, Tom had spent a brief few years on the dueling circuit, picking up recognition for his technique, as well as learning from a wide variety of styles, and making even more allies.
By the time he returned to Britain, in his late forties, Tom was no longer a wide-eyed boy determined to gain acknowledgement purely because of his family name. No, he had acknowledgement of his own merits, access to the Gaunt and Slytherin family vaults in Gringotts, and had been legally and magically adopted by his family in India.
Young halfblood Tom Riddle might have left Britain over twenty years ago, but educated, respected, powerful Thomas Donal Marvolo Gaunt had returned. As the Gaunts no longer owned the manor that had once been the family seat, Tom instead claimed the Riddle family manor and quickly converted it to a magical home. The new wards were based on the same ones around Hogwarts, convincing the local muggles that the house had fallen into ruin and eventual collapse.
After obtaining two house elves, and a large stash of magical furniture and paintings from the Slytherin vault, Tom soon had the new Gaunt manor looking as it should, befitting an ancient magical family like Gaunt. He had also transformed the woods and grounds around the manor, and using the nest of naga that he had legally imported from India, Tom quickly set up his own breeding and potions supply business.
That done, Tom set about renewing connections he had made at Hogwarts and on the dueling circuit. Of particular importance — though he didn't betray his eagerness — was his association with Filius Flitwick, who had been in his final year on the circuit during Tom's first. More importantly, he was now a professor at Hogwarts. During their luncheon that summer, Tom made sure to reminisce about his alma mater, while also dropping a few hints about what a shame it was he hadn't discovered his love of history until out from underneath Binns' sleep-inducing drone.
It was nothing overt, and Tom certainly didn't intend to tip his hand so early, but those tiny seeds he sowed today would take root, and one day sprout into a field of flowers in his favor. If there was one thing Tom had learned back at the orphanage, it was patience. And his patience had paid off, with him becoming a history tutor to several OWL and NEWT students, then taking on several as apprentices, then whipping up a study plan for students to actually pass their exams, and finally being asked to come replace Binns. It wasn't the defense position that Tom craved, but it was a start.
And when one of his former apprentices — who had been beloved by the students when standing in for him — was ready to take a position of her own, it had just taken one teeny tiny accident to get rid of the current defense teacher mid-year. Why, it just made sense for Saraphina to take over history, and slot Tom into the defense vacancy. Temporarily, of course. And now, here he was, two decades later, still teaching defense, while Saraphina Greengrass still handled history. It had all been wonderfully simple and Slytherin to pull off, and to this day Albus was none the wiser.
Tom finished his circuit of the seventh floor, but had found no Ravenclaws or Gryffindors out of their common room, save for the seventh year Ravenclaw prefects, who were turning in after their own final patrol. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Tom saw them back into their tower and then headed down to the third floor, where the entrance to the Headmaster's tower currently resided.
One of the few things that had gone Tom's way at Hogwarts was that he had discovered his link to Salazar Slytherin towards the end of his fourth year, and shared it with his head of house, Slughorn. The man who had singularly ignored him for his first four years at Hogwarts had then turned around and made him a prefect, wooed Tom with his Slug Club, and eventually had even advocated for Tom to become the Head Boy.
Tom had even traded on that relationship, early in his grand tour, but of course once he had returned to Hogwarts he had been determined to take old Sluggy's idea and do it right. Thus, instead of focusing on those students who had influential family members first and foremost, and only paying attention to a few exceptional students without those ties, Tom chose to focus his efforts on those who's gifts weren't yet appreciated. Tom wasn't a blood snob, but a believer in power.
Tom himself was a halfblood, and far more powerful than his closest pureblood relations. Ciaran Gaunt had been a squib, married to a muggleborn, and their children were all intensely powerful, overflowing with Slytherin's gift and several more to boot. Muggleborns had occasionally married into the Indian Gaunt line, and it was stronger than ever, while still maintaining the honor of the Gaunt — and Slytherin — lines. Power was the key.
So, Tom looked for the most powerful, the most unique, the ones who didn't have a powerful family at their backs but the drive to succeed despite that. And he did nothing so crass as hosting little parties for his chosen, or bragging about the other connections he had. No, Tom preferred to do his work in the shadows. He and Filius had started a dueling club, and he would often hold a student back to work on their form afterwards. He did the same things after class, and regularly synched his patrols to those of the prefects. And if they talked about more than form, homework, or troublemakers, like about the student's future? Well, who would know.
The Ravenclaw duo he had just been speaking with were among his proteges, and normally Tom might have used his connection to the castle to catch up with them earlier and engage in a little conversation. It had taken him the better part of a decade, but Tom had figured out how to use his position as Slytherin's heir to mimic the headmaster's connection that Albus had. Tonight, however, Tom hadn't wanted to politic with his students — even the brighter ones — and had enjoyed the solitude for most of his patrol.
He had been teaching at Hogwarts for several decades now, and knew every nook and cranny and back hallway. He was entirely capable of completing a patrol and being seen by the right people doing so, without ever risking actually finding a troublemaker. It was a wonderful skill for those nights, like tonight, when he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, instead of chastising wayward students or influencing the prefects.
The large clock in the tower struck midnight just as Tom reached the door to the Headmaster's suite. Most people used the grand, Gargoyle-guarded, entrance around the corner, which led to the office; very few even knew about the unassuming, plain door in the next hall which led to the attached suite. Tom quickly gave the password to unlock the door, Dragon's scale and opened it. Albus always used sweets for the password to the Gargoyle — one of his many eccentricities — but their private chambers used far more normal words.
Striding down the short hall, past the door that would allow Tom to access his office on the second floor, and the one that led to Albus's office on the fourth floor, Tom arrived at their living room. Albus was sitting in his usual chair, beside the merrily crackling fire, studying a roll of parchment with a frown.
"Is that frown being caused by the Wizengamot or the ICW?" Tom asked lightly.
The frown instantly smoothed away as Albus looked up at his lover. "The ICW, but that doesn't matter now that you're here." Once, Tom would have rolled his eyes at such sappy lines, but Albus had worn down his resistance. "Is it midnight already?"
"Just past," Tom said, banishing his teaching robes to the laundry hamper and summoning his dressing gown. "My patrol's finished and I saw the fifth-year Ravenclaw duo to their dorm." Before he could head to his own chair on the other side of the fireplace, Albus reached out a hand. Tom accepted it, and let himself be dragged over to perch on the arm of Albus's chair.
"If it's after midnight, then it's your birthday," Albus said, his eyes twinkling merrily. This wasn't the false twinkle he used in his office, to reinforce his grandfatherly persona, but the look of real happiness that he often wore around Tom. "Happy birthday, Tom."
"Thank you," Tom replied, ducking down for a kiss. He used to hate celebrating his birthday, but his newfound family and then Albus had slowly worn down his objections.
"Sixty is quite the milestone; have you given any thoughts as to how you want to celebrate?" Albus prodded. They'd had a similar argument when Tom had turned fifty, then fifty-five. He didn't see the point in celebrating such milestones — he barely saw the point in celebrating birthdays at all, in fact — but Albus always wanted to do something extra. At least Tom had managed to talk him out of the New Year's Ball a decade ago! Tom had even less desire to chaperone a bunch of hormonal teenagers on his birthday, nor risk one of them finding out the reason for the celebration.
"I thought we might just have a cozy night in," Tom began, refusing to be swayed by the disappointment that crossed his lover's face. "And then this summer, when we're free of the castle, we could perhaps travel to India."
Albus's face lit back up. "You want me to meet your family?"
Tom shrugged and gave him a wry smile. "We've been together almost fifteen years; my Aunt Amira has made it clear that I've waited long enough."
"She's absolutely right, you know," Albus teased. "You've met Abe, after all."
"I met Abe when I was a fourth year; long before I learned you two were even related," Tom retorted. "That doesn't count."
"I suppose that's true," Albus allowed. He fell silent for a moment, and Tom did the same, soaking in the moment. "You know, the ICW symposium is in Nepal this summer."
"And the International Dueling Confederation regionals are in Bangkok a week and a half later." Though Tom no longer dueled competitively, he had been brought back as a judge several times. He'd already put himself down for the South and East Asian circuit as soon as the ICW announced their location.
"That sounds like a lovely trip," Albus decided.
"I thought so," Tom agreed.
"And I suppose it makes sense to wait until then to celebrate, when we aren't quite so tied down," he sighed.
Tom just hummed, rather than repeat himself. Albus's birthday was in early August, so they always squeezed in a celebration right before they had to buckle down and get ready for the new school year. Tom's birthday, falling as it did during the winter holidays, always had to be celebrated at the school, and they both had to put in appearances at meal times, so they couldn't sneak away. They'd been doing this for over a decade, now, and Albus knew full well how little Tom liked to celebrate his birthday, and how impractical it was, so the proposition of a summer trip should come as no surprise.
"Well, I suppose the cake I asked the elves for will have to tide us over until June," Albus decided.
"Is that so?" Tom asked, raising one eyebrow. Albus was never so restrained when celebrating his birthday. Tom might not care, but he highly doubted his lover had stuck to a simple cake.
"Well, not just a cake," Albus allowed with a little smirk. "But I'm afraid the rest of your present will have to wait until we get to the bedroom."
"Well what are we waiting for?" Tom asked, pushing himself off the arm of the chair. Albus allowed himself to be tugged up as well.
As they made their way into their bedroom, Tom couldn't help but think back to the day he had first arrived at Hogwarts, forty-nine years ago. He might not have known then what kinds of twists and turns his life would take, or who he would eventually end up partnered with, but he had known that night that Hogwarts felt like home. And all these years later, it still did.
Author:
Characters/Pairings: Albus Dumbledore/Tom M Riddle
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 3,182
Content/Warning(s): Canon divergence, manipulative Tom, no Horcrux AU
Summary/Prompt: "Albus/Tom: What might’ve been different if Tom had been accepted as DADA professor."
A/N: It took him longer than he anticipated, but Tom finally found his way back home.
Read at AO3 or below:
Tom paused in his trek to look out the window over the snow-covered ground. He loved seeing Hogwarts, in all her glory, in every season. But on a night like this, with the glow from the many windows casting a warm glow onto the glistening snow… Well, it might very well be his favorite. Lazy summer days, with a light patter of rain and green as far as the eye could see were a close second, but only because Tom had never been able to enjoy those kinds of days here as a child. Discovering them when he returned was just one of many delightful surprises the castle had saved for him in his golden years.
A wave of nostalgia washed over him at the thought. Once upon a time, Tom had been afraid that he would never see Hogwarts for any length of time again. When he had been working for old man Burke — who didn't care about his Founder's heritage at all — Tom had despaired that he would ever be able to return to the castle that, by rights, should have been his!
But, on the day he was set to leave the old man and begin his world travels, Tom had been unpacking several new boxes of books and happened upon a treatise on mastery studies around the world.
Tom smiled, seeing his reflection do the same in the window. Even now, that very book sat in pride of place on Tom's shelf, and he had loaned it to several of his more promising students over the years.
Back then, Tom had been forced to pay for it out of his meager savings — though with the amount he had taken from Smith, Burke wasn't actually gouging Tom as much as he thought he was — but it had been a revelation.
Because there, in the appendix in the back, where several lesser known apprenticeship topics were listed, had been Parseltongue. Tom had already planned out his great grand progress around the world, and though he had intended to dip into India briefly, he hadn't thought they actually had any old magics worth studying. But a little more research had shown that they practically revered Parselmouths because of the large populations of the magical snake creatures known as Naga, and the muggle belief that snakes were sacred.
It wasn't until Tom had arrived in India's magical district, however, completely changing his planned order of things, and did a little more research, that he discovered the information that would change his life. Tom had decided to use the last name 'Gaunt', instead of 'Riddle'. As much as he hated the particular members of his immediate Gaunt family, there was no denying that the name was an old magical one, with ties to Slytherin, and it sounded in no way Muggle.
Tom had been completely unprepared to find a living family of Gaunt Parselmages in India, including several defense masters. One of his ancestors in the early seventeenth century — Ciaran Gaunt — had been banished from the family after it came out that he was a squib. With no knowledge of the muggle world, he had gone to an orphanage, just like Tom, and then volunteered to join a company with lots of sailing ships that were willing to train young sailors. Despite being a squib, he was still a Parselmouth, and had left the company in India when he discovered the same thing that Tom had. He'd made good money as a muggle snake-charmer, married a local magical woman, and started a whole new line of magical Gaunt Parselmages.
Once he proved his heritage, the family welcomed Tom with open arms. They no more held Tom's muggle father against him than he held Ciaran's squibness or his wife's muggleborn status against them. Tom understood perfectly well what it felt like to be a muggleborn, and it wasn't Ciaran's fault that only a witch with non-magical family was willing to marry a squib. Their resulting children and grandchildren had all been powerfully magical, and the name of Gaunt was well respected in magical India not because of a historical association with Slytherin, but because of their own modern prowess.
After that was settled, several of his relations, who insisted Tom call them Aunt and Uncle, immediately began training him in the family trade. Once he had attained his Parselmagic mastery, his defense mastery had quickly followed. Tom had been able to use his family connections to meet many masters in the field, and ended up training first under a Chinese master that his uncle knew, and then going to Egypt, to another family of Parseltongues, to complete his studies.
Tom could never have been anything but a Slytherin, but having access to the library at Alexandria to complete his studies was a boon that even non-Ravenclaws would jump at.
His access also allowed Tom to perform his own research, beyond those needed to complete his defense mastery. He had heard the muggle saying, long before Hogwarts, that those who didn't study history were doomed to repeat it. Tom had lived through what the muggles called World War II, and had also seen from afar the defeat of Grindelwald by Dumbledore.
Thanks to his Gaunt family in India, Voldemort also knew the story of Ciaran's younger sister, Gormlaith, who had also been brought down by a 'light' branch of the Gaunt family. Tom had once intended to rule magical Britain — perhaps muggle Britain as well! — and his early years at Hogwarts had shown him that cozying up to purebloods and adopting their beliefs was the obvious way to achieve his goals.
But in Alexandria, as he finished his Defense mastery and began a history one, Tom became determined to discover where Grindelwald, and Gormlaith, and Germany had gone wrong, and how Dumbledore and the allies had come out on top.
A noise stirred Tom out of his reminiscing, and he half turned away from the window, expecting to see a student out of their dorm. Instead he found that the knight in the painting behind him had fallen off of his horse, apparently having fallen asleep upright. Tom shook his head fondly, but took advantage of the happenstance to resume his patrol. He wasn't usually prone to such flights of reminiscing, but this time of year seemed to bring them on.
Suffice to say he had easily obtained not only his mastery in magical history, but all the information he needed to conquer magical Britain properly. Armed with his three masteries, his plans, and his allies, Tom had spent a brief few years on the dueling circuit, picking up recognition for his technique, as well as learning from a wide variety of styles, and making even more allies.
By the time he returned to Britain, in his late forties, Tom was no longer a wide-eyed boy determined to gain acknowledgement purely because of his family name. No, he had acknowledgement of his own merits, access to the Gaunt and Slytherin family vaults in Gringotts, and had been legally and magically adopted by his family in India.
Young halfblood Tom Riddle might have left Britain over twenty years ago, but educated, respected, powerful Thomas Donal Marvolo Gaunt had returned. As the Gaunts no longer owned the manor that had once been the family seat, Tom instead claimed the Riddle family manor and quickly converted it to a magical home. The new wards were based on the same ones around Hogwarts, convincing the local muggles that the house had fallen into ruin and eventual collapse.
After obtaining two house elves, and a large stash of magical furniture and paintings from the Slytherin vault, Tom soon had the new Gaunt manor looking as it should, befitting an ancient magical family like Gaunt. He had also transformed the woods and grounds around the manor, and using the nest of naga that he had legally imported from India, Tom quickly set up his own breeding and potions supply business.
That done, Tom set about renewing connections he had made at Hogwarts and on the dueling circuit. Of particular importance — though he didn't betray his eagerness — was his association with Filius Flitwick, who had been in his final year on the circuit during Tom's first. More importantly, he was now a professor at Hogwarts. During their luncheon that summer, Tom made sure to reminisce about his alma mater, while also dropping a few hints about what a shame it was he hadn't discovered his love of history until out from underneath Binns' sleep-inducing drone.
It was nothing overt, and Tom certainly didn't intend to tip his hand so early, but those tiny seeds he sowed today would take root, and one day sprout into a field of flowers in his favor. If there was one thing Tom had learned back at the orphanage, it was patience. And his patience had paid off, with him becoming a history tutor to several OWL and NEWT students, then taking on several as apprentices, then whipping up a study plan for students to actually pass their exams, and finally being asked to come replace Binns. It wasn't the defense position that Tom craved, but it was a start.
And when one of his former apprentices — who had been beloved by the students when standing in for him — was ready to take a position of her own, it had just taken one teeny tiny accident to get rid of the current defense teacher mid-year. Why, it just made sense for Saraphina to take over history, and slot Tom into the defense vacancy. Temporarily, of course. And now, here he was, two decades later, still teaching defense, while Saraphina Greengrass still handled history. It had all been wonderfully simple and Slytherin to pull off, and to this day Albus was none the wiser.
Tom finished his circuit of the seventh floor, but had found no Ravenclaws or Gryffindors out of their common room, save for the seventh year Ravenclaw prefects, who were turning in after their own final patrol. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Tom saw them back into their tower and then headed down to the third floor, where the entrance to the Headmaster's tower currently resided.
One of the few things that had gone Tom's way at Hogwarts was that he had discovered his link to Salazar Slytherin towards the end of his fourth year, and shared it with his head of house, Slughorn. The man who had singularly ignored him for his first four years at Hogwarts had then turned around and made him a prefect, wooed Tom with his Slug Club, and eventually had even advocated for Tom to become the Head Boy.
Tom had even traded on that relationship, early in his grand tour, but of course once he had returned to Hogwarts he had been determined to take old Sluggy's idea and do it right. Thus, instead of focusing on those students who had influential family members first and foremost, and only paying attention to a few exceptional students without those ties, Tom chose to focus his efforts on those who's gifts weren't yet appreciated. Tom wasn't a blood snob, but a believer in power.
Tom himself was a halfblood, and far more powerful than his closest pureblood relations. Ciaran Gaunt had been a squib, married to a muggleborn, and their children were all intensely powerful, overflowing with Slytherin's gift and several more to boot. Muggleborns had occasionally married into the Indian Gaunt line, and it was stronger than ever, while still maintaining the honor of the Gaunt — and Slytherin — lines. Power was the key.
So, Tom looked for the most powerful, the most unique, the ones who didn't have a powerful family at their backs but the drive to succeed despite that. And he did nothing so crass as hosting little parties for his chosen, or bragging about the other connections he had. No, Tom preferred to do his work in the shadows. He and Filius had started a dueling club, and he would often hold a student back to work on their form afterwards. He did the same things after class, and regularly synched his patrols to those of the prefects. And if they talked about more than form, homework, or troublemakers, like about the student's future? Well, who would know.
The Ravenclaw duo he had just been speaking with were among his proteges, and normally Tom might have used his connection to the castle to catch up with them earlier and engage in a little conversation. It had taken him the better part of a decade, but Tom had figured out how to use his position as Slytherin's heir to mimic the headmaster's connection that Albus had. Tonight, however, Tom hadn't wanted to politic with his students — even the brighter ones — and had enjoyed the solitude for most of his patrol.
He had been teaching at Hogwarts for several decades now, and knew every nook and cranny and back hallway. He was entirely capable of completing a patrol and being seen by the right people doing so, without ever risking actually finding a troublemaker. It was a wonderful skill for those nights, like tonight, when he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, instead of chastising wayward students or influencing the prefects.
The large clock in the tower struck midnight just as Tom reached the door to the Headmaster's suite. Most people used the grand, Gargoyle-guarded, entrance around the corner, which led to the office; very few even knew about the unassuming, plain door in the next hall which led to the attached suite. Tom quickly gave the password to unlock the door, Dragon's scale and opened it. Albus always used sweets for the password to the Gargoyle — one of his many eccentricities — but their private chambers used far more normal words.
Striding down the short hall, past the door that would allow Tom to access his office on the second floor, and the one that led to Albus's office on the fourth floor, Tom arrived at their living room. Albus was sitting in his usual chair, beside the merrily crackling fire, studying a roll of parchment with a frown.
"Is that frown being caused by the Wizengamot or the ICW?" Tom asked lightly.
The frown instantly smoothed away as Albus looked up at his lover. "The ICW, but that doesn't matter now that you're here." Once, Tom would have rolled his eyes at such sappy lines, but Albus had worn down his resistance. "Is it midnight already?"
"Just past," Tom said, banishing his teaching robes to the laundry hamper and summoning his dressing gown. "My patrol's finished and I saw the fifth-year Ravenclaw duo to their dorm." Before he could head to his own chair on the other side of the fireplace, Albus reached out a hand. Tom accepted it, and let himself be dragged over to perch on the arm of Albus's chair.
"If it's after midnight, then it's your birthday," Albus said, his eyes twinkling merrily. This wasn't the false twinkle he used in his office, to reinforce his grandfatherly persona, but the look of real happiness that he often wore around Tom. "Happy birthday, Tom."
"Thank you," Tom replied, ducking down for a kiss. He used to hate celebrating his birthday, but his newfound family and then Albus had slowly worn down his objections.
"Sixty is quite the milestone; have you given any thoughts as to how you want to celebrate?" Albus prodded. They'd had a similar argument when Tom had turned fifty, then fifty-five. He didn't see the point in celebrating such milestones — he barely saw the point in celebrating birthdays at all, in fact — but Albus always wanted to do something extra. At least Tom had managed to talk him out of the New Year's Ball a decade ago! Tom had even less desire to chaperone a bunch of hormonal teenagers on his birthday, nor risk one of them finding out the reason for the celebration.
"I thought we might just have a cozy night in," Tom began, refusing to be swayed by the disappointment that crossed his lover's face. "And then this summer, when we're free of the castle, we could perhaps travel to India."
Albus's face lit back up. "You want me to meet your family?"
Tom shrugged and gave him a wry smile. "We've been together almost fifteen years; my Aunt Amira has made it clear that I've waited long enough."
"She's absolutely right, you know," Albus teased. "You've met Abe, after all."
"I met Abe when I was a fourth year; long before I learned you two were even related," Tom retorted. "That doesn't count."
"I suppose that's true," Albus allowed. He fell silent for a moment, and Tom did the same, soaking in the moment. "You know, the ICW symposium is in Nepal this summer."
"And the International Dueling Confederation regionals are in Bangkok a week and a half later." Though Tom no longer dueled competitively, he had been brought back as a judge several times. He'd already put himself down for the South and East Asian circuit as soon as the ICW announced their location.
"That sounds like a lovely trip," Albus decided.
"I thought so," Tom agreed.
"And I suppose it makes sense to wait until then to celebrate, when we aren't quite so tied down," he sighed.
Tom just hummed, rather than repeat himself. Albus's birthday was in early August, so they always squeezed in a celebration right before they had to buckle down and get ready for the new school year. Tom's birthday, falling as it did during the winter holidays, always had to be celebrated at the school, and they both had to put in appearances at meal times, so they couldn't sneak away. They'd been doing this for over a decade, now, and Albus knew full well how little Tom liked to celebrate his birthday, and how impractical it was, so the proposition of a summer trip should come as no surprise.
"Well, I suppose the cake I asked the elves for will have to tide us over until June," Albus decided.
"Is that so?" Tom asked, raising one eyebrow. Albus was never so restrained when celebrating his birthday. Tom might not care, but he highly doubted his lover had stuck to a simple cake.
"Well, not just a cake," Albus allowed with a little smirk. "But I'm afraid the rest of your present will have to wait until we get to the bedroom."
"Well what are we waiting for?" Tom asked, pushing himself off the arm of the chair. Albus allowed himself to be tugged up as well.
As they made their way into their bedroom, Tom couldn't help but think back to the day he had first arrived at Hogwarts, forty-nine years ago. He might not have known then what kinds of twists and turns his life would take, or who he would eventually end up partnered with, but he had known that night that Hogwarts felt like home. And all these years later, it still did.