The moment Tom and I stepped into the manor, the chill of the December air melted into the warm, rich scent of pine, waxed wood, and polished silver. Familiar, ancestral magic hummed through the stone walls like a memory of old bloodlines, of ancient names whispered in reverence or fear. This was home. Our home. And Tom belonged here now.
I called sharply, my voice echoing through the grand foyer. "Calthorpe."
The house-elf appeared with a faint pop, bowing low, his ears twitching. "Mistress Carina. Master Riddle."
"Where are my parents?" I asked, already loosening my scarf with one hand.
"In the garden, Mistress. They are awaiting tea."
"And Abraxas?"
"Master Abraxas is in his room."
I smiled coldly. "Of course he is. Have the guest room prepared. We have a visitor staying for Yule."
"And do see that the room next to mine is prepared," I added casually, glancing at Tom with a slight smirk. "Wouldn't want him getting lost in the manor."
Calthorpe vanished with another pop. I turned to Tom and looped my arm through his.
I turned to Tom. "Come."
We strolled past the tall windows that flooded the corridor with grey winter light. Snow dusted the outer hedges, and in the garden beyond, I could just make out the silhouettes of my parents by the frozen fountain.
As we stepped outside, my mother turned first an elegant figure in her silver cloak, wand in hand as she stirred the petals of a dormant rose bush. My father stood beside her, examining a letter with an expression of vague displeasure.
"Carina," Mother said warmly, then looked up and caught sight of Tom beside me. "And Tom, of course. How lovely."
They looked up as we approached.
"Tom," my father greeted him first, eyes cool but assessing. "Welcome."
"Thank you for having me," Tom replied with that same calm deference he reserved for people he did not need to manipulate yet.
"You're always welcome here," my father continued. "I believe Abraxas meant to send a letter confirming your stay."
I smiled sweetly, folding my hands behind my back. "I thought I'd spare him the formality and bring him directly. Saves time."
Father looked Tom up and down with the appraising gaze he gave all powerful men or those he suspected would be. "You're welcome here, son. Our home is yours."
Tom nodded, voice steady. "Your hospitality is appreciated."
"And well-remembered," I added, letting my voice drop just a shade, like velvet dipped in wine. "Come, I'll show you your room."
My mother gave me a knowing look, sipping her tea. "You always had a strong sense of hospitality, darling."
Tom inclined his head, that calculating gaze flicking to me for just a second. I smiled back with all the practiced charm of a duchess and said, "Thank you for your hospitality."
Mother dismissed us with a graceful wave. "Go and rest, dear. We'll dine in two hours."
As soon as we were out of sight, I grabbed Tom's hand. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."
The guest suite was near mine, of course.
I pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside with him, the scent of lavender and firewood filling the air.
Tom arched a brow as he stepped over the threshold. "You're quite the welcoming host."
I smirked, backing him toward the bed. "Of course I am."
With a push, he was seated on the edge of the bed, and I stepped between his legs. He looked up at me, his eyes dark, curious, and faintly amused. I stroked his cheek, letting my fingers trace the line of his jaw.
"If you can't sleep," I whispered, leaning closer, "my room is just next door."
His lips curled into a small smirk. "I'll keep that in mind."
My fingers threaded through his hair, soft and thick. He sighed, then rested his head against my stomach.
"So," I murmured, "what now?"
"Graduate," he said simply. "Then..."
"And your father?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then, coldly: "I don't care about him. He's a Muggle. He would taint my name."
I smirked, tipping his chin up so he looked at me. "That's right. You don't need him. You don't need anyone to validate you. You don't need him to succeed."
Tom stood then, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me closer. His breath was warm against my cheek.
"You're right. I don't need him. I only need you."
I let my fingers drag up his chest, nails teasing the fabric of his shirt. "Exactly. You only need me."
He smirked, and then he kissed me a dark, possessive kiss that stole my breath and made the room spin just a little. He kissed like someone used to taking, not asking.
The dinner bell chimed like the toll of a grandfather clock—solemn, commanding. I adjusted my robes in the gilded mirror before leading Tom down the eastern corridor toward the dining room. The scent of roasted pheasant and nutmeg floated on the air, mingling with the ever-present scent of wax and old magic in the manor.
Abraxas appeared at the landing just as we turned the corner. He looked mildly surprised to see us
"I didn't know you had arrived," he said .
I smiled sweetly. "Oh, he has. I've been a very attentive host."
Tom chuckled, Abraxas shot me a look that said volumes, but I only rolled my eyes
We entered the dining room to find our parents already seated. The long table gleamed beneath a crystal chandelier. My mother's eyes lit up, as if she had expected nothing less than our coordinated entrance.
"There you are," she said. "Please, sit."
I took the place beside her, Tom opposite me. As we settled, my father leaned forward, squinting at something on Tom's hand.
"That ring," he said slowly. "It's not just ornamental, is it?"
Tom glanced down at his hand, where the ancient, dark silver ring glinted beneath the candlelight. A serpentine 'S' Slytherin's mark.
"No, sir," Tom said evenly. "I inherited a lordship."
There was silence.
My mother's fork paused mid-air.
"A lordship?"
"Yes. Officially recognized through Gringotts, after a blood test."
"Which house?" my father asked, though I knew he already suspected.
"Slytherin," Tom said simply.
My father leaned back, a strange expression on his face. Not disbelief admiration. Calculation. He was already thinking what most men of power would think: how to harness it.
"That's quite the revelation," he said finally. "The last known direct line of Salazar Slytherin vanished centuries ago. If you're truly of that descent…"
"He is," I interjected smoothly, reaching for my wine. "The goblins don't make mistakes."
Abraxas, despite already knowing of Tom's heritage, looked a touch pale. His grey eyes darted toward the Slytherin ring gleaming darkly on Tom's finger, then back up to his face with a flicker of disbelief. The table had gone unnervingly still, save for the quiet clink of silverware.
"You didn't tell me it was… confirmed," he said, voice carefully neutral.
"It was only confirmed today," he said simply, voice cool and unbothered. "The goblins completed the verification after a comprehensive blood test. No doubt remained."
Abraxas suddenly broke into a smile. It was sharp, maybe a little too wide, but it held genuine pride behind its aristocratic edges.
"Well then," Abraxas said, setting his glass down with a decisive clack. "Congratulations, Tom. That's… that's an incredible legacy. The House of Slytherin reborn. No one in our generation can claim anything even close."
Tom inclined his head, accepting the praise like a crown placed atop his already inevitable throne.
My father nodded in agreement, now entirely intrigued. "This will send ripples through the Wizengamot, not to mention the sacred twenty-eight," he said, almost reverent.
But my mother, ever the diplomat, lifted her glass. "Then let's toast to legacy. To the return of Slytherin's line may it be glorious."
We all raised our glasses.
Later that night, I changed into a silver nightgown threaded with green embroidery, letting the fire in my bedroom warm the room to a sultry glow. I was halfway through brushing my hair when a knock tapped at the door.
I smirked. I didn't need to ask who it was.
I padded over and opened the door slowly, letting the light cast across Tom's silhouette.
"Come in," I said, stepping aside.
He entered without a word, and I closed the door behind him. For a moment, he simply stood there, his eyes on me like I was something expensive and dangerous.
"You going to just stand there all night?" I teased.
He stepped forward, slowly. I climbed onto my bed and lay back on the pillows, watching him.
"You're distracting," he said.
I tilted my head. "You like being distracted."
He climbed in beside me, his arm slipping beneath my neck. I turned onto my side, curling into him. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. The world outside could have burned, and I wouldn't have moved.
I traced a line on his chest with my fingertip. "You should rest. Tomorrow will be a long day ."
He nodded, but didn't move. His eyes closed.
"This is nice," I whispered.
"Yeah," he murmured. "It is."
And I smiled in the dark, knowing he would never leave me.
Because he couldn't.
Because I wouldn't let him.
Because the snake had already begun to coil, and I was the warmth he craved in the dead of winter.
..............................................................................