A Snake Named Voldemort

Extra 2

"Well, here we are," Harry said, face alight with nerves and equal excitement. "Tom, I can't believe we're actually doing this."

The surly eyed man next to the twenty-one year old gave an even deeper scowl than the one he wore just moments before. "Yes, I can hardly believe it either," he said with clear sarcastic enthusiasm. "It has always been my dream to open up my home to a messy, whiney—"
"Oh, hush Tom," Harry scolded, shooting a glare in his lover's direction. "I know you're doing this only because I've always wanted one, but I think you may actually grow to love the one we get, or at least enjoy their company."

Tom snorted in a sheer example of incredulousness. "I really don't think—"

For the second time in a row, much to his chagrin, Tom was interrupted from finishing his sentence, though this time it was by a person other than Harry.

"My Lords!" an elderly yet sprite woman exclaimed breathlessly from the doorway of the building Tom and Harry stood before. Her grey hair was pulled back in a severe sort of bun reminiscent of McGonagall, but the ecstatic smile (even in the face of the powerful Minister and ex-Lord Voldemort, revealed to the public only last year after a successful election—Harry's, the late Dumbledore's, plus others' endorsements prevented complete panic and mayhem upon the reveal) on her aged face bore little resemblance to Harry's old professor.

"Please, please come in! We've been expecting you. I must say, it is quite the honor."

With a final look in Tom's direction that clearly said, "Behave," Harry approached the woman easily, his excited grin once again in place on his countenance. With the obvious reluctance of a man who knew exactly what he was getting himself into and wishing he could escape his fate, Tom followed in a grim, stately manner after Harry.

The facility was clean and bright, the walls obviously covered in fresh paint and the wooden floors buffed to a mirror shine. It was a far cry from the orphanage Tom grew up in, and it left the man feeling a sense of ironic bitterness. How was this fair?

"Oh Tom! Just come look at them!"

Harry's obviously enamored call from a room off the left distracted Tom from his memories and brooding. Dread growing within him, he went in the direction his lover's voice had come from and walked into the room which all the...the things were gathered, Harry standing a short distance away eyeing each and every one. This sort of line up Tom was familiar with, despite the glistening paint and polished floors.

Harry's green eyes were bright with shining, joyful emotion, but there was a hint of dismay upon his features. He turned and looked up at Tom.

"How can we possibly choose?"

Considering the question, Tom looked once again at the choices. There were blonds, brunets, boys and girls...there was one obvious solution.

"Don't. We can still leave."

Harry looked positively aghast, and Tom nearly winced. Despite what he said, he realized it was too late. Harry had already seen them, and he wouldn't be leaving without one.

"How can you say that? Just look at their faces! You remember how it was..."

"Harry, how is this possibly the same thing?" Tom snapped, waving his hand over the heads of the cretins. He signed when Harry's bottom lip poked out just enough to be considered a pout. And damn, was it attractive.

Tom sighed, and once again resigned himself. This really was happening.

"Might I make a suggestion?" the woman who had greeted them before said, slightly timidly.