As Harry closed the door softly behind him, he turned to find Tom standing a few steps away in the dimly lit hallway. The firelight from a nearby sconce cast shadows over Tom's sharp features, giving him an air of quiet contemplation.
"You told him an interesting story," Tom said smoothly, his voice low but carrying a hint of intrigue. He leaned slightly against the wall, his arms loosely crossed. "A hippogriff and a time-turner. A rather fantastical combination."
Harry blinked, startled. "You were listening?"
"I'm always listening," Tom replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You have a talent for weaving tales, Mr. Potter."
"It wasn't just a tale," Harry said before he could stop himself. "It happened."
Tom's eyes narrowed slightly, though not with skepticism. If anything, he seemed even more intrigued. "You've lived an extraordinary life, then. A time-turner isn't a trivial artifact. Used for a student to attend all her classes? Ingenious, if a bit excessive."
Harry shrugged, brushing off the comment. "Hermione was careful. She never misused it. If anything, she treated it like it was more fragile than glass."
Tom's smirk softened into something resembling curiosity. "This Hermione… she must have been remarkable."
"She is," Harry said simply, his voice tinged with warmth. "Smartest person I've ever met. Always knew what to do, even when the rest of us were completely lost."
"Interesting," Tom mused, his grey eyes studying Harry closely. "You speak of her with great admiration."
"She saved my life more times than I can count," Harry admitted, his gaze briefly dropping to the floor. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her."
Tom tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "And yet, here you are. Sharing these experiences with my son instead of with her."
Harry's eyes flicked up, narrowing slightly. "Circumstances change."
"They do," Tom agreed, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer. "It's curious, though. You've been through so much, yet you choose to involve yourself with my son. Why?"
Harry crossed his arms, his voice steady. "All children deserve the best. Sirius deserves better, too."
Tom paused, his sharp gaze locking onto Harry's. For a moment, the air between them was heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then, Tom gave a faint nod, as though he'd reached some internal conclusion.
"I suppose that's something we agree on," Tom said, his tone quieter now. "Sirius does deserve better. And perhaps you're the right person to provide it."
"I'll do my best," Harry replied, his voice firm.
Tom's expression softened, his eyes momentarily drifting down the hall toward Sirius's room. "He needs a softer touch than most, you know. Someone who can balance his energy, his curiosity, without trying to rein it in too harshly. I… struggle with that."
Harry arched a brow. "You don't seem like the kind of person who struggles with anything."
Tom let out a low chuckle, devoid of humor. "Appearances are deceiving, Mr. Potter. I've learned that the hard way." He hesitated, his gaze becoming distant. "I don't want him to grow up like me. Calculating. Cold. I want him to have choices I didn't."
The vulnerability in Tom's voice caught Harry off guard. "What choices didn't you have?" he asked cautiously.
Tom's expression hardened slightly, as though he regretted the slip. "Enough about me. Sirius is what matters."
Harry hesitated before asking, "What about his mother? Did she have the same hopes for him?"
Tom's lips tightened. "She didn't live long enough to have any hopes," he said bluntly. "She died giving birth to him."
Harry flinched, regretting his question. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
Tom waved a hand dismissively. "It's not a wound you need to tread lightly around. It's old and well-healed."
For a moment, the silence stretched between them. Then Harry, unable to fully let the matter drop, ventured, "You never thought of marrying again?"
A flicker of something raw crossed Tom's face—an emotion so fleeting Harry barely caught it. "No," he said after a long pause. "My first marriage wasn't expected. But I married for duty, not love." He sighed, his composure faltering for just a moment. "Sirius is the only good thing that came from it, and for that, I'm grateful."
Harry frowned, surprised by the admission. "You don't believe you could find someone for Sirius's sake?"
Tom's gaze sharpened. "And risk introducing someone who might view him as a burden or a tool? No. He has me, and now he has you. That will suffice."
Harry felt the weight of those words settle heavily between them. "I'll do what I can," he said quietly.
Tom studied him for a moment longer before straightening his posture, his mask of control slipping back into place. "One of my manservants will take your measurements tomorrow. I trust you'll make yourself available."
Harry's brows furrowed. "Measurements?"
"You can't be seen working for me in your current attire," Tom said, his tone light but with an edge of finality. "If you're to protect my son and represent this family in any capacity, you'll do so appropriately dressed."
Harry's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Fine."
Tom's lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good. Rest well, Mr. Potter. Tomorrow, your real work begins."
Without waiting for a response, Tom turned and disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps fading into the quiet of the house.
Harry exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way to the front door. The night air was cool and crisp when he stepped outside, and he paused for a moment, looking up at the stars scattered across the sky.
Not only Sirius deserved better, the orphanage did, too. And for as long as he could manage it, Harry was determined to give them just that.