Oh my gosh! You guys seemed to really like the last chapter! Aww, I love you all so much. I'm also so excited there are so many Adrian fans! Honestly, it means so much that my side characters are liked. You all came for certain characters, but to take a liking to characters you didn't come for makes me feel like I'm doing a good job on them! There was also praise for my author's notes, which makes me feel significantly less bad for making them so long sometimes. As for getting burnt out, you're super sweet for saying that, and I'm not really listening to you at the moment seeing as I'm posting, but if I ever really feel like not posting I will take your comment as comfort to know I won't be too disappointing! As always, tell me what you think, as I care a lot about what you all are interested in in my story. On another note, have any of you seen "Get Out"? I really want to see it! It was sold out when I tried to see it this last weekend, but I may see it this next coming weekend.

I don't own anything from Harry Potter.

Edric's head was still reeling after Pucey left, overwhelmed by what he had been shown as well as heard. He was grateful that Pucey had not witnessed Astoria performing the Cruciatus himself, seeing that he had already graduated from Hogwarts, as Edric would have had him show him that as well. He was sure seeing his baby sister perform such a spell would crush him even more so than he already had been from seeing Daphne's crying and broken face as she described what had transpired after he had left.

It was his fault.

He loved Ophelia, he loved his wife more than he could express, but the women in his family didn't deserve to pay for his love.

His sisters, his innocent and trusting little sisters hadn't deserved that.

His jaw tensed and his vision clouded more as memories of his sisters haunted him, reminding him of what he had left behind.

Tiny Astoria leaned against his legs, grumbling about how tired she was and about how she wanted to go home. "This is so boring, Edric. I hate it," she pouted.

Edric chuckled and shifted his legs away, catching her by the arm before she toppled over. "Mother is going to whip your calves if you don't stand up straight, you know."

Astoria huffed loudly and yanked at the bun that was in her hair, pulling out all of the pins roughly before throwing them at the grass beneath their feet. "My hair is too tight. It hurts my head."

"You're always complaining," he pointed out, watching her with amusement.

"Well! There's a lot to complain about!" She cried. "And that stupid boy called me stupid just because I spilt something on accident. As if I did it on purpose! He's stupid!"

"Who called you stupid?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"The ugly one," she quipped, wrinkling her nose.

"Ah. Very specific," he said, scanning the group of younger boys ahead of them, not sure which one the child would deem ugly. "Nott?"

"No! He's my friend," she grumbled, looking at the tall boy he was referring to.

Edric snorted loudly. "He is not your friend, Astoria."

"He is," she insisted. "I swear it."

"I don't approve of your friendship."

Astoria squinted up at him. "So? You're not the boss."

He smirked and kneeled down next to her. "I absolutely am the boss when father isn't around. I'm the other man of the house. Now, show me which boy called you stupid."

Astoria began to point and he slapped her hand down lightly. "Don't point," he scolded and she glared and shoved at his hand that smacked hers.

"The ugly one with the white hair."

Edric rolled his eyes, standing once more. "You know his name, Astoria."

"I don't want to use it," she sniffed.

"Mhm. I see. Well, I agree. The little shit is stupid."

Astoria giggled loudly. "Yes! The little shit is stupid."

Edric fought to hide his grin as he shushed her loudly, squeezing her shoulder. "Don't curse, no matter if I curse myself or not."

"You get to do everything," Astoria complained, shifting restlessly where she stood.

"That I cannot. Astoria," he said, his tone becoming serious as he addressed her.

"What?" She asked, looking up at his eyes.

"Never let a man make you believe that you're stupid, no matter how hard he may try," he told her clearly, searching her eyes.

"Why would I ever do that? Boys are always the dumb ones. Even mother says so."

"Right. Good," he chuckled, nodding.

"Except you, Edric. You're not stupid. I'm still smarter than you though."

"Thank you, Astoria. I appreciate your praise very much. It means the world," he told her, his tone falsely honored.

"Astoria," Daphne complained, marching up to them. "What have you done to your hair? You look awful!"

"Just thought I'd look like you for the day," Astoria replied dully.

Edric snorted out a laugh, quickly covering it at Daphne's shooting glare and he watched the two girls pick at each other with affection.

Daphne grabbed her sister, attempting to fix her hair before Astoria shoved at her. "I'm not a doll!" She cried angrily, smacking at her.

Daphne yelped at her advances and shoved her back, smacking her back irritably. "Stop it! You're like an animal!"

Astoria stopped, holding her arm where Daphne hit her and stumbled back many steps away, false tears filling her eyes as she sniffled and bumped into Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa looked down at crying girl with concern and kneeled slightly to ask her what the matter was. Astoria pointed to Daphne, shaking gently with tears and Narcissa looked up to scowl disapprovingly at Daphne, murmuring something to Astoria before turning back to the woman who was previously speaking to her. Astoria returned to them slowly, her tear filled face still pitiful.

"Are you done, Astoria?" Edric asked her, raising an eyebrow at her.

Astoria wiped her eyes, beaming smugly at him. "Yep."

"Yes," he corrected her.

"Yep," she repeated firmly, her lips popping at the "p".
Daphne fumed silently, glaring Astoria down before stomping away to find their mother to rat her out. Freya turned to look at Astoria, examining her hair before narrowing her eyes and motioning with her finger for her to come over to her.

Astoria pretended not to see her mother, looking away and around at the trees as well as the property around them. "Don't look at her, Edric," she hissed when she noticed him watching Freya, poking him hard in the leg.

Freya's eyes narrowed more and she moved from where she was chatting with different women to go to them, grabbing Astoria by the hair and yanking the small child in front of her to fix it. "What on earth do you think you're doing?" She demanded.

"Mother. That ugly boy called me stupid," she said sadly, acting as if her feelings had been hurt by the insult.

"She means the Malfoy boy," he told his mother, watching Astoria's angry and wincing face at his mother pulling at her hair.

"Stupid?" Freya laughed coldly. "Please. Have you met his absolutely idiotic mother? My child? Stupid? The nerve. You will never be stupid, Astoria. I'm your mother." Freya paused before smacking Astoria on the arm on the same reddened spot where her sister had just hit her. "Don't do things to cause people, or other children, to call you stupid!"

Astoria cried out at the slap, holding her arm again as she scowled after her mother's retreating figure.

"I've been beaten," she exclaimed dramatically, looking up at Edric, her eyes looking more than offended.

Edric cleared his mind of the memory, shaking his head. He had known Astoria had changed significantly from how he had remembered her, he could realize that based on who she had married and how she had looked in the picture with Malfoy in some of the papers that focused on the gossip of the pure-blood world. Though besides that, he hadn't been able to find out much of what had become of his siblings. He was completely cut off from his previous community, and he knew better than to stick his head out too far or his father would not give him the same mercy he had initially of just allowing him to walk away. He and his wife lived in a secluded area well away from his childhood home and they kept to themselves as much as possible.

He supposed it would make life slightly easier if he chose to go by a different name, but his pride made it nearly impossible for him to even consider such an idea, and he wouldn't force his wife to act like she wasn't married to him either. She deserved better than that, probably deserved better than him actually.

"Edric," she said softly, stepping in front of him to search his eyes, her own deep ones filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry I brought him."

"Don't," he sighed, pulling her to him by the waist before pressing his face into her thick hair, inhaling her comforting warm scent. "I can't pretend them away. It's not right, and I don't wish to."

"But it feels so hopeless," she replied quietly, hugging him to her tightly. "I hate seeing you hurt. After all of these years, you're still hurting."

"There's no way around it, my love. You came at a big price, I have to say. I thought I could afford everything until I found you," he told her in a slightly playful tone, attempting to lighten the mood as not to upset her more with his suffering.

He felt her sigh and he pulled away, looking at her seriously. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Ophelia. I don't regret choosing you, but I regret the destruction I left in my departure."

"I know," she said quickly, looking embarrassed and guilty. "I was being silly and selfish. It was just a natural reaction."

"You said silly, I didn't," he pointed out, watching her with amusement.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she gave him a dull look. "You're not meant to agree."

"I don't recall agreeing."

"You implied agreement," she muttered, pulling away from him.

Edric yanked his woman back against him, causing her to push fiercely at his chest. "Don't manhandle me, you infuriating git," she growled.

He pressed his fingers to her lips, shushing her, smirking as her eyes flashed with offense. She grabbed his hand away from her mouth and shoved it away from her.

"Beautiful women shouldn't look so angry all the time, darling. It's an incredible waste," he told her, taking her hand and kissing the palm of it.

She watched him unamused, closing her hand into a fist. "You think your rich boy charms work on me, Edric?"

He blinked at her, flipping her hand over and examining the ring there that claimed her as his. "Do I think?" He asked, his tone curious before he pulled her hand closer to her own face to look at the ring as well. "Or are we both looking at the evidence of how I know that my 'rich boy charms' work on you rather nicely?"

"Please, that'a not why I'm married to you," she said confidently, lifting her chin. "Adrian was much more charming than you, really."

Edric pulled back slightly, laughing loudly at her words. "Really," she insisted, nodding but he only laughed louder.

"I'd like to see you around their lot for the day, my dear. It would truly entertain me."

"They seem nicer than yours," she pointed out, tilting her head.

He considered this for a moment. It was true, and it was one of the reasons they were looked down upon. "Indeed. Though you would still be appalled."

"I've had to deal with you for years. I'm not easily appalled anymore."

He chuckled in response, kissing her forehead affectionately. "He said Daphne was with his mother? Ah, she'll have fun with that one."

"Why?" She asked, frowning suspiciously at him. "I hope you're not being rude."

"She's very.. Friendly. She can barely speak English, and her accent is highly irritating," he replied, remembering the woman faintly from the only couple times he had met her. Her Ukrainian accent stuck out very clearly as did his mother's complaints about it.

"At least she speaks more than one language," Ophelia scolded him. "You can't critique her until you have to try and speak multiple languages fluently."

"I speak four languages fluently, Ophelia," he told her dully, cocking a brow at her.

She pursed her lips as she thought of a response. "That's not the point," she mumbled, knowing she had already lost.

"Actually, that completely contradicts the weak point that you were attempting to make," he pointed out, enjoying her aggravation.

Edric kissed her deeply when she began to argue again, swallowing her words. He was thankful she didn't smother him in pity, though the deeper their kiss became the more his mourning for his family gnawed at him.

Ophelia broke their kiss when she felt his mood shift back to the negative, resting her hands on his chest. "Do you think your father replaced you with Astoria?" She asked quietly after a while.

Edric closed his eyes tiredly, her words confirming the worries he had had for his small sister. "Mmm. Perhaps with some modifications," he murmured, his mind drifting back to his father's constant watchful tasks he had for him as well as his mental digging. It was a wonder he had kept Ophelia from him before he had been disowned, but his father had effectively taught him Occlumency to the point where he could easily slip thoughts of Ophelia away as if she had never existed when he was around him.

However, his sister was not prepared to hide thoughts of her older brother with a muggle-born from his father.

"E-Edric," she had sobbed after running to him just right after Ophelia and her family had left, grabbing onto him desperately. "He saw.. Father saw.. What I saw.. What you did.. P-Please don't leave. He's so angry.. He's so, so angry.. I'm sorry! Please don't be mad at me! I'm sorry!"

Astoria choked on her sobs as Edric knelt down stiffly to kiss her forehead, realization of what she was so upset about washing over him as a chill shot up his spine as his father approached them where they were which was far from the event they were attending. He barely heard himself respond to his father's ultimatum when his ears began to ring as Astoria cried out her despairing protests, begging him to take her with him. His father blurred in his vision as he yanked up his sister roughly who was holding onto Edric for dear life, sobbing uncontrollably for him, begging him not to leave them, repeating how much she loved him, pleading him to choose them instead.

"The Aurors have requested a few of us to examine them, nearly all of them," his wife said quietly, pulling him from his own head.

He stilled. "No," he replied coldly.

"I could use a different name," she argued, frowning at him. "None of them know what I look like."

Ah, but one did.

"I can't imagine some of the problems that some of them have," she continued. "I mean, you yourself have-"

"I'm not one of your patients, Ophelia," he said slowly, narrowing his eyes as he pulled away from her.

"I know you're not, Edric.. That's not what I meant," she said slowly, regretting her words.

"What you meant is that I give you a taste of the fucked up people on the other side, and you're just dying to pick them all apart and see what's on the inside. They're human beings, they are not meant for work experiments."

"I just want to help," she said, her voice smaller now as she looked away from him.

"You don't want to help. You want to poke and prod and get beside yourself at how absolutely horrible and vile families like mine are. You want to subject them to your own morbid curiosity while you judge and pity them. Pity. Ah, you're good at that sometimes, your people are very good at that."

He was growing more and more angry as he spoke, thinking of the ways she looked at him sometimes when things grew too loud and he couldn't be in the room any longer, when he held his breath for seemingly no reason, when he was beside himself when anything in his office was off in a certain way.

"I'm sorry you're angry, but you know I'm not trying to be malicious or disrespectful."

"That's what's so irritating about it; your attitude. You don't see how incredibly condescending you and your people can be."

When Ophelia said nothing, Edric went on. "If you think I don't like your little attempts at diagnosing me, please tell me how you predict actively prejudiced, angry, and cornered dark wizards and witches will react towards them? It's not safe, and I am not allowing my mudblood wife to go into the homes of recent Death Eaters," he snarled, watching her cringe at the term. "Are they fucking serious? Do they want you dead? Is this all a joke to them? Do they remember that they kill people?"

"Don't call me that," she said through gritted teeth, attempting to sound strong as her voice wavered.

"I'm not calling you that, Ophelia. I'm calling you what you are in their eyes."

"Sometimes I feel like that's what I still am in your eyes," she bit out, trembling as her eyes filled with tears.

Edric's anger faded as guilt replaced it, a pain in his chest biting at him at her tears. "That's never what you were in my eyes," he told her, his voice softer. "Even from the start of it all I fought myself as I tried to convince myself that's what you were, but I never won my own battles."

"You lost everything because of what I am." She looked down as her emotion dripped down her freckled face. Edric moved to tilt her chin up, his anger completely gone now.

"Nothing of what I lost could have ever offered me the things you have given me."

"You know, your problem with food could be linked to trauma in your childhood," Narcissa Black told Freya Krat, nodding as she watched her put nothing on her plate in the Hogwarts Great Hall.

"Oh, is that so, Black? Reading up on Psychology, are we? Hmm. Which cliche childhood trauma of mine do you think it's linked to? My parents both having drinking problems? My daddy beating my mummy? My brother in all of his terrible glory? Or perhaps it's merely the fact that we as women are only alive for men to order around, and if they don't like how they look we will be even more miserable than we will be if they are content with our appearance, and who really knows exactly what they're looking for in the appearance of a woman. Which do you think it is linked to, Black?"

Narcissa shifted uncomfortably, not looking at Freya as she was seemingly taken aback by her speaking of those things out loud.

"Oh right, I'm terribly sorry. How inappropriate of me. We aren't supposed to talk about what actually happens in our expensive mansions or the scars hidden under our overpriced clothing. Don't attempt to pick me apart like that again, Black, because I can assure you I can do the same to you," Freya said smoothly, taking a drink from her water. "I've heard some nasty things about your family as well, and as it seems you are ignoring the shit we have to deal with: my dose of reality wouldn't be taken well by you. So, kindly mind your business. Thanks, lovely."

"Come on, Freya. Happy stories at breakfast, please," Rhys said, grimacing uncomfortably.

Narcissa didn't reply to Freya as she stabbed at her breakfast, scowling to herself.

"I see you're not mad at me anymore," Freya chirped as Joseph Nott sat beside her, piling food onto his plate.

"I don't recall ever staying mad you for long, unfortunately for my own sanity," he replied, rolling his eyes at her smug look. "Though I'm sure you were crying in my absence."

"Absolutely not," Freya snorted. "You are much more likely to cry over me before I ever cry over you, my darling."

"I'm surprised you aren't friends with Evelyn Bissette as she shares your hatred for men, Freya," Narcissa told her bitterly, glancing over at the dark skinned woman next to Aldrich Greengrass.

"My only two friends are men, Black. What gave you the idea that I have a hatred for them?" Freya asked coyly, tilting her head.

"Oh, so you admit we are your friends, do you?" Rhys asked, grinning.

"Fuck, did I agree to being your friend, Krat? I don't recall that either. I'm flattered, but I'm a very busy man. No time for friends," Joseph told her, feigning a disappointed tone.

"Don't worry that she didn't include you, Natasha. It took her years to say that out loud about us," Rhys told Narcissa, patting her on the arm.

"Narcissa," she corrected, pushing his hand off of her arm distastefully.

"Yes, very busy meeting with Lucius Malfoy and his group of lively mates to discuss your kink of bowing to a fucking half-blood," Freya snorted, glancing at Joseph irritably.

Joseph's eyes darkened, narrowing at Freya as he leaned closer to her. "Choose your words carefully when speaking of such matters. You will not speak that way about us and him again."

Freya leaned away from him, raising a slow and challenging eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?" She scoffed, laughing slightly.

Joseph kept his serious expression, not moving his eyes from her.

"Hmm," she mused thoughtfully, spreading her hands out in front of her and examining her fingers. "What's this? No ring on my finger claiming me to any man? And.. Last time I checked.. Ah, right. My last name. It's Krat. Not Nott. So I don't see why a man whose last name doesn't match mine is telling me what to do."

"As your friend it is my place to warn you when you ought to hold your tongue," he gritted out irritably, his dark expression falling.

"Friend? Oh no, you're too busy to have friends, Joseph. My mistake. I'll be off until your 'I say jump, you say how high' as if I'm your obedient little wife attitude ends," she said firmly, gathering her things to leave, ignoring Joseph's aggravated protests. She paused as she passed Aldrich, his voice slowing her.

"A true obedient wife doesn't have to ask how high," he said thoughtfully, not looking to her. "She already knows."

The scene from the Pensieve faded from the room in Malfoy Manor, the audience of it quiet as they thought it over. "My favorite part was when Nott said 'I don't recall ever staying mad at you for long'. Truly, that was golden," Blaise said gleefully, looking highly amused at himself. "This is highly entertaining, but your mother could have given you more interesting memories, Draco. I want to see some real shit."

"She gave me what she didn't mind me seeing, which is not likely to be terribly interesting. Plus, she's a woman, and she was not involved with the more relevant matters. Besides, you are choosing to be here while I play around with this thing," he replied, though he still found the memory quite interesting, oddly enough.

"Your mother seemed quite cozy next to Greengrass, Zabini," Nott told him. "Perhaps they were sleeping together."

Draco rolled his eyes at that, shaking his head. "It's interesting to see the beginnings of our parents as Death Eaters. Perhaps these memories can reveal more than we thought about current events."

Astoria was still quiet beside him as she recovered from the memory his mother had provided, seemingly caught off guard at what she had seen in many ways.

"We've learned that Greengrass was always creepy as shit," Pucey snorted, shaking his head as he fiddled with his empty glass. "Let's not turn this into an investigation. I'm just here to be entertained."

"That's your father in-law you're talking about, Adrian," Astoria said defensively, frowning.

Fuck, did she realize how irritating she was sometimes? He was beginning to feel like she should have never been married and remained her father's darling daughter forever.

"Pucey, you never did tell us how the frigid bitch was adapting to her new surroundings," Zabini drawled, eyeing him.

Adrian dropped the glass in his lap and clapped his hands together loudly, sitting forward. "Let's set some ground rules, shall we? Rule number one: don't say shit about my wife. That's the only rule actually, unless I think of more later. If you break the rule, I'm going to fuck you up. I don't give a damn if you have a cute little skull tattoo on your arm. We will fight, and I will win. Alright, friends?" He asked, his tone friendly in contrast to his words.

"Are we meant to be intimidated, Pucey?" Nott snorted, smirking at him.

"Completely up to you, Nott. Want to find out if you should be? I wouldn't mind, as I think you're a fucking arsehole," Pucey replied, shrugging.

"Please do," Draco drawled, eager to see anyone attack Nott, though he wasn't sure how Adrian would do against him.

"Do you honestly think you could defeat me?" Nott chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

"Very confident there, just like a true fucking arsehole would be. Did little Astoria teach you how to perform the Cruciatus as well as she can and that's why you're so cocky? There are more spells than that, and you don't have to wear a pointy hood and mask to know some threatening magic, mate."

"I wasn't aware my wife performed a Cruciatus," Draco said dully, leaning back in his seat with little interest, not taking his comment seriously.

"You wouldn't, Draco, as I heard you were a bloody mess seventh year," Adrian grinned. "But yeah, she did, according to the grapevine. Heard Nott here guided her through it."

Astoria shook her head slowly, looking very lost. "I don't know what you're on about, Adrian, but I can assure you I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Perhaps the 'grapevine' was talking about another blonde."

Draco caught Nott's uncomfortable look and his attention narrowed in on him, sitting up slowly. He froze as the Pensive became active on it's own, filling the room with the scene of Astoria practicing the unforgivable curse on the boy who had attacked her in her fourth year, the memory ending with Nott taking her into his arms, concern and care for Draco's wife etched into his features.

Astoria opened her mouth to speak in alarm as the memory faded, but Draco didn't catch her words before he was invading Nott's mind, Nott completely unable to stop him.