Knockturn Alley was grimmer than usual in the face of the Dark Lord's return. Adrian walked up the path from the apothecary, his his hood up, and steps determined and unhesitant. The hags kept their distance as long as they got the impression that one knew where one was going.

He pushed open the door to Borgin and Burkes to the sound of Borgin harshly ordering someone out of the establishment. Which in itself wasn't a big deal. The thing that halted Adrian in his steps was that the annoyance being chased out by Borgin was Hermione.

Hermione's eyes widened when they met Adrian's, but she did not slow her steps as she hurried towards the door.

Adrian remained anchored in place, blocking the door. "Is there a problem, Mr Borgin?" he asked, casual, lowering his hood. He then held out a hand to catch Hermione at his side.

Borgin came to a sudden stop before them. "Excuse me, Mr Pucey. Just getting rid of the girl," he said, glaring briefly at Hermione. He gestured Adrian into the shop then. "I'll be with you in a second."

Adrian moved his hand from Hermione's arm to her lower back. "I see," he said, his eyes darting briefly to her and back to Borgin. He wanted to ask what the actual problem was, but Borgin's eyes were already narrowing at their closeness. "Allow me to show her out, Mr Borgin. She appears to be out of her depth," he said, pressing yet civil.

Borgin sneered lightly at Hermione. "If you insist, Mr Pucey," he said, grudging, then stormed back to the counter.

Adrian steered Hermione around towards the door, his hand steady at her lower back. "Pull up your hood, please," he murmured to her, doing the same as they stepped out onto the street.

The door to Borgin and Burkes banged shut behind them as they started to walk in silence until Diagon Alley. Once there, Adrian moved them to a relatively quiet corner, then dropped his hood. "What in Merlin's name were you up to?" he asked, confused and concerned.

Hermione cringed lightly, lowered her hood as well.

Adrian immediately caught her chin in a hand. "What happened to your eye?" he asked, growing several times more concerned as he noticed a sorely bruised eye. "Did Borgin raise his wand at you?" he asked, lightly touching the area around her eye, his gaze darkening.

She winced again, caught his hand in hers. "No. No, I had a bit of an accident with one of Fred and George's inventions."

Relieved that Borgin had not hexed her, he let go of her face, looked severely at her. "And you were at Borgin and Burkes because?"

Her eyes darted away from his to look behind him. "I um, I had to check something," she said, completely unconvincing.

Adrian felt his jaw tighten. "And why was Borgin kicking you out?"

Hermione smiled rather nervously. "Well, he clearly didn't like me having a look around."

Adrian pressed his lips together, took a step back from her. He darted his gaze around them then, cataloguing the faces on the streets. "Where are Potter and Weasley?" he asked, searching. "Where is Mr Weasley? Do any of them know you've been stirring trouble in Knockturn Alley?" he questioned. "Of all the places to be alone. What were you trying to accomplish, Hermione?" he asked, with more urgency, frowning in disapproval of her silence.

"I reckon she can take care of herself."

Adrian turned around swiftly at the voice to the sight of Weasley looking decidedly sour. And Potter looking equally unimpressed.

Clamping down on the urge to tell them off, he turned back to Hermione. "I shall escort you to Mr Weasley," he said, stiffer. Oh, he would have words with her. Only not with Potter and Weasley hovering over them.

Hermione darted a glance at her friends, then gently placed a hand on Adrian's. "I'll be all right with Harry and Ron," she said, smiled lightly. "Thank you."

Adrian raised an eyebrow at her. "I will escort you to Mr Weasley," he said, leaving no room for argument.

She threw uncertain and apologetic glances at all three of them, in turn. And they walked in oppressive silence to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Adrian was wary from the get-go as they neared it, and he most assuredly did not enjoy the attack on his senses the moment he stepped into the establishment. The outside of the joke shop was gaudy, but it was positively tame compared to the assault of sights and sounds inside. The Weasleys had a crowd, however, and with the way things were turning out in the world, that was worth something.

It was barely any comfort to Adrian that they found Mr and Mrs Weasley visibly anxious when they arrived. Clearly, they weren't anxious enough to not let the three out of their sight. Adrian bit his tongue, however, courteously shook hands with Mr Weasley as the other expressed his thanks for "finding the kids".

Before he could make his escape, Fred… or George Weasley, in an outrageously purple outfit, approached him, gave him a mock bow. "Mr Pucey. Welcome to our humble establishment," he said. "Sweets?" He held out an assortment of sweets out to him in a small box.

As Adrian considered politely declining the offering, Hermione smacked Weasley's arm, causing him to nearly drop the box.

"Oi! Watch it!" Weasley exclaimed, aghast, clutching the box to his chest. "These cost an arm and a leg. Maybe even two arms and two legs."

She threw Adrian an small smile. "Maybe you shouldn't test them on potential customers then."

Weasley tsked, tucked his box into a pouch at his waist. "This is why we should have banned prefects from the shop," he muttered loudly.

Adrian felt decidedly like a potion ingredient on a chopping board under all their eyes. Under their eyes that watched him because he watched Hermione. Refusing to shrink under the scrutiny, he turned to Hermione. "I'd like to talk, if you have a moment," he said, softer.

She nodded, and they slipped further into the shop in an attempt to find a quieter corner.

He took her hand in his. "Will you tell me what you were doing at Borgin and Burkes?" he asked, gentler. The noises of the shop were still too loud, but there was nowhere else to go.

She looked down at their linked hands, pressed her lips together.

"I see," he said, shoulders dropping lightly. It hardly mattered right then that they were still early into their relationship. They were friends before, weren't they? "You don't trust me."

Her eyes snapped up to his. "I do," she said swiftly. "It's just that…" She tucked a few stray curls behind a ear. "Harry and Ron don't," she said, softer.

He nodded, looked away. "And I suppose whatever it is you were up to involves them," he commented. Of course, it involved Potter and Weasley. Didn't it always? He turned back to her. "Tell me this at least, why were you alone?"

She shrugged lightly. "I figured one of us in the shop would be less suspicious than all three," she said. "They were hiding outside the shop, actually."

"And why couldn't that one in the shop have been Potter? Or Weasley?" he pressed.

She looked straight at him. "It could have been. It just wasn't," she said plainly. Challenging him to say that he thought her any less capable than her friends. Or more vulnerable.

Adrian nodded. "Right." Never mind that they were at war. He let go of her hand, took a step back. "I'll leave you to it, then." he said, more distant, detached. "Clearly, my concern is not welcome. I apologize for breaching the bounds of our relationship."

She grabbed his hand again. "Don't," she said swiftly. "It's not that. I'm – I… " she, exhaled harshly, exasperated. "I was following Malfoy."

He frowned lightly. "And you were following him because?"

She rolled her eyes lightly. "Harry was following Malfoy. I was following Harry."

"Why was Potter following him then?" he asked. Harry Potter, the Boy-Around-Whom-The-World-Revolved.

She pushed her hair back from her face, darted her eyes away and back. "Malfoy was acting suspicious," she said, secretive.

Adrian raised an eyebrow at her.

Hermione huffed, tugged at his hand. "I know. Don't say it," she said. "It's just that Harry is… " she struggled to find the words. "He needs something to occupy his mind."

He sighed lightly. "That still does not explain why you were alone."

She shook her head. "Harry and Ron were right outside the shop."

He pressed his lips together, refused to concede the point. What did their presence matter that far away? The inside of Borgin and Burkes was practically another world from the street outside. Besides, neither was a place for her to be alone, whether in actuality or in appearance.

She tugged at his hand again. "You're sweet to worry," she said, smiling softly. "But I was all right."

He brought his hand up to trace the edges of the fading bruise on her face. "I wish I didn't need to," he murmured, his expression still sober.

Her smile drooped, and slipped her free hand behind his neck, tugged him towards her. "Sweet," she breathed, pressed her lips to his.

He closed the distance between them, kissed her until the noises of the shop were a distant echo that he barely registered over the sound of their breathing, their lips dancing. "You're trying to distract me," he accused, his hands still wandering.

She only kissed him harder in reply.

A large eagle owl dropped off the letter and the accompanying box around breakfast one morning. Madam Pucey picked up the letter, while Adrian and Tiberius exchanged curious glances.

"It's for you, Ty," Madam Pucey said carefully, looking warily at the box.

Tiberius frowned. "Me? Who is it from? And what's it supposed to be?" he asked, pulling the box, that was really more of a crate, towards him.

Madam Pucey darted a glance at Adrian, then smiled encouragingly at Tiberius. "Why don't you open it?"

Adrian narrowed his eyes at her, a niggling suspicion creeping into his mind. He moved his chair closer to Tiberius, closer to the box.

Tiberius opened it easily, and they peeked inside.

Adrian's eyes snapped back to Madam Pucey. "Is that a Phoenix?" he asked, shocked and amazed.

Tiberius tutted, reached a hand into the box where the small bird was resting without a care about the world. "It's an Augurey," he corrected.

Adrian scrutinized the bird more closely. The Augurey looked like a malnourished little vulture, gaunt and pitiful, with a greenish tinge to its black feathers. Relieved and disappointed at the lack of any scarlet plumage, he sat back in his chair, pursed his lips together.

"Who is it from?" Tiberius asked, closely examining the bird.

"Do you like it?" Madam Pucey asked. "Augustus remembered that I once told him you wanted a pet that wasn't an owl."

Tiberius froze, then slowly pulled his hand out of the box. "May I see the letter?" he asked politely.

Adrian read it over his shoulder. There was no indication that Augustus was the sender. Only mention of travelling north and coming across the young Augurey. And of course, Tiberius's long-standing desire for a pet.

They were never a pet household, largely because Mr Pucey was not keen on keeping any beasts that served no utilitarian purpose. Tiberius's meltdown over not being permitted to get anything but an owl when he started Hogwarts led to him being forced to borrow Jellybean from Adrian every time he wanted to write home. He refused an owl every subsequent year in the hopes that their father would eventually cave in to his pleas and permit him to bring perhaps a knarl into the house.

Tiberius carefully folded the letter, handed it back to Madam Pucey, pushed the box away from him. "You can tell him I don't want it, thank you."

Madam Pucey sighed lightly. "Must you be so stubborn? It's merely a bird."

Tiberius raised an eyebrow. "How did it come into his possession?" he asked. "Was he holidaying up north and decided to stop by a pet shop for my sake? Because Igor Karkaroff's dead body might have a different story to tell."

Her lips thinned. "Have care how you speak," she said sternly.

He scowled. "I'd rather not speak of him at all," he replied, got up from his chair, stalked out of the room.

A few moments later, Adrian walked to the door, asserted that Tiberius was not eavesdropping. He returned to the table, tapped twice at the side of the box. "What is he up to?" he asked.

Madam Pucey frowned. "Is it so hard to believe he was only thinking of Ty?"

Adrian glanced toward the door, then back to her. "He will never win over Ty. I wish you would stop him from trying."

The Augurey started cooing lightly in the box.

Madam Pucey pulled the box closer to her, reached into it to soothe the bird. "You know very well that I cannot do so," she said, softer. "Will you please talk him into accepting the Augurey? I fear he will pay no heed to anything I say when it comes to Augustus."

Adrian' looked away, jaw tightening. "It's one thing for me to sit aside and watch this play out like I'm none the wiser. Now you're asking me to lie to him outright?"

"I am asking you to consider the best course of action, for his sake," she reasoned.

He placed his clenched fists on the table, looked at her. "Did he have anything to do with what happened to Karkaroff?" he asked.

She pulled her hand from within the box, gently placed it on one of his fists, "Do I really need to answer that?" she asked.

She did not need to answer that, because Augustus obviously had everything to do with what happened to Karkaroff. And Adrian was irked with himself for not even considering the possibility when he first read the Daily Prophet article on Igor Karkaroff's death. Karkaroff had literally tattled on Augustus Rookwood during the post-War trials. What more needed saying?

Adrian reluctantly took responsibility of the Augurey for the time, crate-nest and all. He temporarily settled it close to but separate from the owls, and searched their library for a book on the magical bird. After two days of feeling like he was back in Care of Magical Creatures, and nicknaming the beast Siren for its anguished cries every time he attempted to feed it, he was ready to coerce Tiberius into accepting it.

Saddling Tiberius with a mixture of guilt, coercion, and pleas had him accepting the Augurey after a few days. The name, Siren, stuck however. The bird refused to respond to anything else, despite Tiberius's best efforts to give it a more sophisticated name.

It was plain to see how quickly and easily Tiberius grew attached to Siren, and in return how the Augurey grew partial to him. They were found most mornings and nights in the garden, Tiberius talking to Siren in soft tones about whatever was on his mind while the bird cried sombrely in answer. He took to carrying it around everywhere in the pockets of his robes, and even though it was a close fit, Siren seemed to enjoy the snug space and the constant attention.

Madam Pucey seemed both satisfied and concerned of his acceptance of the Augurey. Adrian was not sure if he ought to be bothered more by the fact that Tiberius decided to conveniently ignore how the bird came to be his in the first place. And he wondered, not without a pang of alarm, if Augustus would be able to win over Tiberius after all.