A/N: This story is written for Paul Potter, he's a budding (or if I can talk him into it,) a budding fanfic writer. He wanted a story where Tom and Albus had an intense conversation. I hope this lived up to your expectations darlen,
To all my readers, if you review with encouragement for my Mr Potter, I will pass it on.
The wind was harsh, and any normal person was hidden away indoors, well away from the terrible 'freak storm'.
But one man was walking down a back street. No one would ever say that this man was exactly normal. The hood of a long flowing cloak was pulled securely over his face. He strode with purpose, stopping for nothing until he reached a particular door, a non descript black door.
The door sprang open without being touched, as if by magic.
"On time, as ever Tom."
Tom threw back his hood, and grimaced at the old man that had been waiting for him. "Why do we have to meet in this god forsaken place?"
"Come sit by the fire Tom. We have much to talk about."
"Why have you called me here Dumbledore?" Tom asked as he threw his cloak over the back of the chair he was about to sit in.
"I thought we agreed only true names here Tom," Albus Dumbledore sighed as if disappointed.
"Very well, Father. Was there a reason you wanted to meet?"
"I merely wanted to see how my only son was progressing with our plan," Dumbledore reassured him.
"Everything is progressing as it should. By the time we attack the school, the ritual will be in place to transfer the power of everyone who dies to us. I only need to get the last ingredient Severus needs for the potion I will need to take before hand, just as you instructed Father."
"That's my good boy," Dumbledore praised, the glint in his eye flashing for a moment a red colour identical to that of his son. "You better get back. We wouldn't want anyone to miss you after all."
Without another word, Tom left the room and the house in a swirl of his black cloak. Dumbledore stood for a moment ensuring he was alone. "You never were very adept at potions Tom, my boy. If you were, you would realise that this one will have the opposite effect to the one you expect. I can hardly have you running around taking power that is rightfully mine. No, it is far better this way. You will die and take the boy with you. And I will have the power that is rightfully mine." The man's eyes flashed blood red for a moment before he shook it off and left the house himself.
Five minutes passed and a chill fell over the house as wards and spells settled and left it clear. A door, obscured by a heavy curtain was pushed open revealing two dark haired men.
"This might be the strangest thing I have ever, or will ever say. Thank you for kidnapping me and tying me up in a dark room Professor Snape. Father and Son, that's disturbing," Harry said with a shudder
"For once I agree with you. Shall we return to my chambers to plan a new strategy?" Snape asked, nodding his acceptance to the thanks.
"I think we need to. So truce? I won't call you a bastard bat of the dungeons and you don't keep on about my Father?" Harry held out his hand.
Snape looked at it for a moment before taking it, "I can't promise not to insult you, it's in my nature."
Harry grinned. "I only mentioned one thing each that were off limits, if you stopped altogether I'd worry it wasn't you."
"Brat. Take my arm; I'll apparate us to the forest, if asked we were gathering ingredients during your detention."