For once in his life, Harry seemed to be having some amount of good luck. Before the end of term, he had finally kissed the girl he had been pining over since second year. What's more, she kissed him back. When he got off of the Hogwarts Express it had been Sirius, not the Dursleys, waiting to take him home. If he had cast a Patronus in that moment, it would have driven out all the dementors in Azkaban. The only blight on his summer was Sirius' original desire for him to not go back to Hogwarts, but even that had been cleared up. Most days were spent with Sirius and Remus, training or hearing stories about their antics at Hogwarts, more than some of the time spent playing pranks on each other. It felt like a family. On days when Sirius had meetings with the goblins or the Ministry to sort out everything that had happened in the past fifteen years, Harry had taken to wandering muggle London streets, frequenting all the pubs and ice cream shops that he never got to visit when living with the Dursleys.

And today. Today he had bumped into his new girlfriend without even intending to. He could not help the grin on his face.

"Potter," she suddenly stood from the bench she had unexpectedly plopped herself onto beside him. "What-I mean-you shouldn't call me that!"

Her lovely purple eyes were flitting around, searching out threats like her brother or Housemates like they were still at Hogwarts. Harry's grin widened as something struck him.

They were not at Hogwarts.

"Evanna what are you doing?" he said, standing and walking towards her slowly, imitating what Remus had said Sirius once acted like around girls he liked in their school days. Her cheeks reddened.

"Merlin, Potter, we're enemies, remember?" she pushed. "People watching may get the wrong impression."

"Tell me," he said, still smiling as he took another step toward her, "when was the last time Death Eaters went for a stroll in a muggle park?"

Harry had never been exactly tall, but he felt like he was on top of the world as he looked down into her eyes. He could see the moment that she realized what he had.

They were free.

First her lips twitched up, then her face split into a full smile that nearly took his breath away.

"Not ever that I can recall," she said before reaching forward on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his.

Harry's eyes closed automatically and he slipped one hand around her waist, the other going to her hair. It had grown since her hasty chop a year ago, past her shoulders in lovely, soft ringlets. Fire seemed to shoot up his veins as Evanna pressed her small body closer to his in response. After a moment or two, she pulled away from him, though she did not go very far. He had no intention of letting her.

"What was that you were saying about being enemies?" he teased. She laughed, scowling playfully at him.

"It is called caution, Potter," she drawled, the use of his last name sending tingles up his spine. "You might learn some."

"And you might unlearn some," he replied cheekily, pulling another kiss from her lips, reveling in the fact that he could do so without worry. She pulled away more quickly than the first kiss, a pretty blush across her cheeks.

"Harry," she admonished, twisting away from him. "A little discretion. We are still in public."

"We are, aren't we?" he said brightly. "We're in a public place, but no one knows who we are. I suppose there is only one thing to do, isn't there?"

"What would that be?" she asked, smiling.

"Evanna Malfoy, would you go on a date with me?"

She smiled. "You are ridiculous, Harry Potter."

But she took his hand anyway.

Harry thought for a moment, before deciding what to do, remembering the mushy films that Aunt Petunia liked to watch. A dinner and a movie, that was the classic date, wasn't it? Of course, the last time he had been to the cinema was when the school had taken them all on a field trip to see a musical about a red-haired orphan. The only thing he remembered was telling a teacher that Mrs. Hanigan reminded him of Aunt Petunia, which had caused him to spend a month in the cupboard when the teacher repeated it to the Dursleys. Still, the thought of sitting in a dark room besides her, holding her hand, perhaps more….

Yes, this was a sound plan.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Have you ever been to the cinema?" he asked. She gave him a blank look.

"I assume that is some sort of muggle place?" she asked. "You should know the answer to that."

He grinned. "It's sort of like a cross between a play and a Wizard's photograph. You want to go?"

Evanna nodded and off they went. When they arrived, Harry had thought to see the latest Ralph Firmness movie, but Evanna had been entranced by Romeo + Juliet.

"I had no idea that muggles liked Shakespeare," she said. "I mean, how do they even do it?"

Harry laughed. "William Shakespeare was a wizard?"

"Well, how do you think they had a bear onstage if it wasn't an animagus?"

Harry wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that, so instead he just ordered some popcorn and soda. Evanna had wrinkled her nose adorably at the bubbly sensation of the soda, but had politely insisted that "it isn't….. terrible". Somehow, the look of polite disgust made him feel even more in love with her than the day he had accidentally blurted out to Snape.

She nearly jumped into his arms when the movie started, the loud music of the credits startling her. She then started straining to look over the seats. Several people behind them grumbled.

"What are you looking for?" Harry whispered.

"Where is the orchestra?" she asked in a low voice.

He did his best not to laugh, he really did, but there was little use for such a thing when sitting next to someone who could read minds.

"There is no orchestra," he whispered back into her hair. It smelled like lavender. "They recorded it."

"But-"

Someone from behind shushed them loudly. Harry grabbed Evanna's hand, a small part of him just trying to keep her from reaching for her wand, but the much larger part because he was fascinated with how much smaller her hand was than his.

Evanna only had a few questions after that ("In the play they had swords!" "Why is Mercutio dressed like that?" "Are you sure there isn't magic involved in this?"), but mostly she leaned her head against his shoulder. Harry found himself paying a lot more attention to the lavender scent of her hair, the tickle of her breath against his skin than he did the movie.

As Romeo took the poison, he noticed that his shirt felt a bit damp. He looked down to see Evanna's face was shining from the light coming off the screen, tear tracks outlining her cheeks. He cupped a hand around her cheek, lifting her face to face him. The fear and sadness were evident in her eyes… He had no need to read her mind at that moment.

"That won't be us," he whispered. "I swear."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Harry Potter," she whispered back.

"I won't."

She seemed to search his face before reaching forward and kissing him deeply, her hands burying themselves in his hair, the arm rest between their seats digging uncomfortably into his abdomen as Juliet lifted Romeo's gun behind them. But what did that matter when she was there, kissing him in the muggle world, where there was no prophecy, no Voldemort, no Dumbledore, no anything to say they shouldn't be anything more than two teenagers falling in love?

She was quieter as they walked out of the cinema, though she still held his hand.

"I'm not the one who can read minds, Evanna," he said, the silence feeling unbearable. She blinked, seeming to return from someplace far away.

"I never knew that muggles could create something like that," she said. "Something that could make you feel…."

She trailed off. Harry squeezed her hand.

"Hermione could probably tell you more about it than I could," Harry admitted, before finally asking. "What are you doing around muggle London anyway?"

Evanna looked away, biting her lip. "I wanted to learn what it's like for myself. He-he was raised here. In muggle London. He made everything sound so terrible."

It took Harry several moments to realize who Evanna was talking about, the notion was so outlandish. Voldemort… raised in the muggle world. He remembered from that awful night in the graveyard, that Voldemort had said he had a muggle father, but this…

She stopped walking, pulling him to a stop as well. The look on her face was fierce, every ounce the "Dark Lady" the Slytherins whispered about. Harry knew what she was likely about to say, but with every fiber of his being he disagreed.

"We should do this again," he said quickly before she could say anything.

"Harry-"

"Not a single person has recognized me once out here. And obviously you have no trouble leaving when you want to-youve been with me the entire day. So why don't we do it again-say Friday at one?"

Harry gave her what he hoped to be a winning smile. She frowned.

"You do realize how utterly ridiculous all of this is? All the things that could go wrong if my father or Dumbledore were to find out?" she pushed. "Don't give me that look, Harry Potter, you know I don't want things to be this way-"

He reached forward and kissed her softly. She melted against him and he knew there was nothing in the world that could stop him from falling in love with her. Not Dumbledore, not Professor Snape, not her Merlin-damned father.

He had known her first.

"I know we won't be able to see each other like this at school," he told her, "so why shouldn't we take advantage of this while we can?"

Evanna still looked hesitant. "Careful, Potter, your Slytherin is showing."

He smiled and squeezed her hand again.

"I-I suppose another date couldn't hurt," she finally said. "But I really must be going now."

"I suppose it would be too much for me to be able to walk you back to the Leaky?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You know that would be reckless."

"Can't have you thinking I've gone completely over to the green and silver."

She shook her head again, this time smiling. "I'll see you Friday, Harry."

Harry did not stop smiling the rest of the day.

Voldemort

It had been a long time since Voldemort had conversed with international magical leaders, though not as long as it seemed he had been kept waiting for. The Bulgarian Minister, it seemed, was not a stickler for punctuality. By the time the minister finally arrived, Voldemort was nearly ready to shoot an 'avada' at the man.

"Velcome," the minister said with a thick accent as he gave a firm handshake. Voldemort respected how well he hid his flinch. "I 'ope you have not been waiting for too long."

"I hope I have not been waiting for nothing," Voldemort replied silkily. "Have you had time to think about my offer?"

"I must say, the magical Britain of two decades ago…. There vas a reason my country did not become involved," the man said uncomfortably.

"I do not anticipate this war to be drawn out," Voldemort said. "I have learned from my past… shortcomings."

"I must say-I am a family man. I cannot-"

"This is your family?" Voldemort lifted a picture frame off the minister's desk. "Your daughter?"

The little girl smiling at the camera had wild curls and missing front teeth, a young version of her father behind her, his hand on her shoulder, proud and strong. There was something in the child that made Voldemort think of his own heir, though he had never known her so young and carefree. Evanna had not been what he expected in more ways than one. He had not intended to leave her alone this summer for even a moment, but upon learning the Bulgarians and other Eastern European countries were thinking of allying with the British Ministry, Voldemort had to act. And, he had reasoned, giving Evanna some amount of command would be useful. He could learn what her priorities were, determine her loyalty to him while Bella kept a close eye on the girl before he set her to kill his oldest enemy. Thus far, she had set a meeting with Argo Pyrites, a move which Voldemort had not expected.

Pyrites had been a Ravenclaw muggleborn, just a few years younger than Voldemort. He had been among the original Knights of Walpurgis, wanting retribution against his parents for the murder of his twin when they had started showing signs of magic. He had been amongst the most vocal of those wanting to pull muggleborn and magical children from their muggle guardians. It had not been the most popular stance amongst the family oriented Pure-bloods, but it had resonated deeply within orphaned Tom Riddle.

And, it seemed, it had with his daughter, too. His daughter who had been raised by the height of Pureblood society, but had been so loathed by who he had thought to be his most useful follower that she had lost access to entire swaths of her magic. Oh, the girl was still powerful, and likely could one day perform feats of Dark Magic that not even Voldemort could, and that was not even considering the Ancient Magic that flowed through her veins from her mother.

But would she do it? That was the question. Any other of his followers he would have severely punished, maybe even killed for the suspicions being raised about her loyalty. But, somehow, he could not bring himself to hurt the girl that was of his own flesh. He had been able to murder his father and grandparents without a second thought, but his heir, who was so like him, who seemed to hang all her hopes on every bit of praise, every bit of recognition, every bit of affection he gave her….

The minister seemed nervous that Voldemort had lingered over the picture of his family.

"She is grown now, into a vonderful vitch," the minister admitted, taking the frame and turning it around forcefully.

Voldemort then made a calculated move. "Unfortunately, I was not there when my daughter was that age."

With a feeling of victory, Voldemort watched as the Minister's eyes widened. "You-you 'ave a daughter?"

"She is entering her OWL year," Voldemort said.

"Vith a father such as you, I am sure she vill do vell."

"She is certainly more powerful than her peers," he said, lips curving into something of a smirk. "Her upbringing was…. Not as I would have wished. But she has managed to overcome much of it already. She is committed to bringing our world out of the shadows, creating a new Camelot."

"You should be very proud of such a child," the minister said, his dull eyes roving over the Dark Lord's face.

"I consider her one of my greatest accomplishments," the Dark Lord said. He was surprised and a little concerned to realize that he meant it.

It had worked, though, for the Minister had crossed the room and poured two small glasses of firewhiskey, before handing one to Voldemort.

"I believe ve may be able to find some common ground," the minister said, tipping his glass to Voldemort before tipping it back.

The Dark Lord smiled.