Until the End of Time [Tomarry]

Chapter 6: Even In Death

And something did.

Tom suddenly splutters, leaning over with a hand on the table, almost spilling but having enough graceful tact to stop himself before he spits it out with his other hand to his mouth. He took a moment to swallow, before coughing for a few moments, looking much too tired for somebody only in their early 20's, even if he really wasn't.

"Wha-" James squinted, but was immediately cut off.

Tom whipped around, glaring daggers at the boy behind him. "SMALL BRAT."

"Yes?" Harry answered, the picture of innocence.

Tom opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, then opened it again. In the end, he just sighed in exasperation. "Harry, darling, can I punch you?"

"No."

Tom doesn't even look surprised at his answer, as if he'd been expecting it all along. "I should've known you had ulterior motives. I should've known this would be nothing but a trap. Were all these memories-all these times we spent together-were they nothing but a sick ruse for your own enjoyment? I should be sick, absolutely disgusted, with you, but instead I'm only disappointed. Disappointed in myself, for not realizing this was nothing but a joke to you. Disappointed in you, for gaining my trust and then staBBING ME IN THE BACK."

And Harry couldn't help it-he laughed. "Oh Merlin, no matter what universe we're in, you're still a drama queen."

"I have to live up to your expectations, after all," Tom smirked, as if he didn't just go on a rant about being stabbed in the back by a child. "Also, I would make a radiant queen."

"I can't deny that. You really would," Harry agreed easily. "But could you pull off wearing a dress?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright, alright, time to eat, you two," Lily interrupted. "Before the food gets cold."

James seemed to have recovered from Tom's outburst, and was stroking his chin in thought. "They have a point. He would look pretty good in a dress."

"Dear," Lily sighed, and then sighed again when the family laughed at her accidental pun, "please stop hitting on the Dark Lord."

After that, lunch continued on peacefully. Or, as peaceful as you can get when you have the Marauders, the Master of Death, the Chosen Boy, and the Dark Lord all sitting at one table. Even if their titles really had nothing to do with the chaos.

"Harry, small brat, would you mind changing my drink back?" Tom asked with a pleasant smile, despite his harsher tone.

"Okay, for real though, do you.. not like.. strawberry milk?"

"Apparently not."

"Fair enough." Harry waved his hand, which Tom knew now to be a completely unnecessary motion, and the milk changed from a pink tinge back into a brown one. It also refilled.

(Tom supposed he could be forgiven this one time.)

"So," Sirius starts, still slurping noodles, "When are we getting Moldyshort's nice trinkets back?"

"I implore you to call me Tom," Tom almost pleaded.

Harry glanced over with an amused smile. "Isn't this the opposite of what you used to want?"

"Yes, yes, gloat all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that if you called me Voldemort, or even.. Moldyshorts.. in public, there would be a riot," Tom reasoned logically, which was true, but Harry saw it for what it really was.