AN: Thank you, Jani, for the wonderful guest review. Glad to have you on this ride!

o - o - o - o - o

Pipsy interrupted their dinner by apparating into the dining room. And as though arriving in the middle of their meal wasn't sufficient, she appeared with a loud crack, breaking the peace of the night.

"Yes, Pipsy?" Adrian asked, half-attentively, as she bowed to him.

Instead of answering him, however, Pipsy turned to Madam Pucey. "Pipsy would like to inform Madam Pucey that Master Rookwood has come to visit," she said, head lowered, her voice a tad tremulous. And suddenly, she had the complete attention of everyone at the table.

"No," Tiberius paled. "Why?"

Pipsy merely looked to Madam Pucey for direction, wrung her hands together.

Adrian pursed his lips together, looked pointedly at Madam Pucey.

"Is he on his way to the dining hall?" Madam Pucey asked calmly.

Pipsy nodded vehemently in reply. "Master asked Pipsy where Madam is," she explained.

"You should have lead him astray," Tiberius said, a slight tinge of panic in his tone. "I don't want to see him," he said to Madam Pucey. "You can meet him somewhere else."

Madam Pucey pressed her lips together, glanced briefly at Adrian.

Adrian looked away from her, down to his half-eaten meal, his appetite rapidly diminishing. He fiercely felt the absence of his wand. They had a 'no wands at the table' policy, that he resented for the first time in his life.

Madam Pucey turned to Tiberius. "You can stay and finish your dinner, Ty," she said gently, and she didn't sound convincing at all.

Tiberius jerked up from his seat. "I can't-" His protest died as a knock sounded at the open door.

Madam Pucey and Adrian rose from their seats at the sight of Augustus at the threshold to the room.

Apprehension welling up in his chest, Adrian attempted to slot the man standing tall at their door to image of Augustus Rookwood from the Ministry's Wanted posters. To the memory of a brother his mother had. Augustus was old right then, his hair greying and a little unkempt, his face riddled with the stress of a lifetime and then some. But his posture was proud, and his eyes were sharp. And they were a blue the same as Madam Pucey's. The same as Tiberius's. And Adrian rather suspected that if Tiberius was older or Augustus was younger, the similarities between their appearances would be a lot more noticeable.

Augustus waved them off. "Please, I'm the one interrupting," he said, walked towards the table. "I hope you won't mind if I join you."

Madam Pucey threw a brief glance at Tiberius, pulled out the chair next to her. "I do wish you'd have warned me before coming," she chastised Augustus softly.

Augustus smiled wanly as he took the seat. "A bit of a last minute decision, I'm afraid."

Adrian swallowed past his nerves, followed Madam Pucey's lead and retook his seat.

Tiberius fidgeted where he stood for a moment longer, then slowly, silently lowered himself back to his seat.

Under the table, Adrian shifted his leg so that his knee lightly touched Tiberius's.

"Pipsy," Madam Pucey said. "Augustus is joining us for dinner."

Pipsy bowed to her, then apparated away. Moments later, a serving of the night's dinner appeared on the table before Augustus.

They resumed their meal silently. Augustus was evidently famished if the speed at which he ate was anything to go by. And he kept darting glances towards Tiberius, who in turn did not look up from his food let alone glance at Augustus.

When their plates were nearly empty, Augustus broke the silence. "You look like your father," he said, contemplative.

Adrian's gaze snapped up from his plate to meet Augustus's keen eyes scrutinizing him. "I -" He clenched a fist under the table, did not find the words to reply. Of course he did. And Tiberius looked like his, didn't he?

Augustus smiled lightly. "It's a compliment, I assure you," he said. "Where is your father, anyway?" he asked, then glanced at Madam Pucey. "I've never known Thomas to miss meals, Octavia. Don't tell me he is now a workaholic in his old age," he said.

Madam Pucey turned to him, lips pressed together tightly.

And the world seemed to halt for a moment. Seemed to be at risk of turning upside down, inside out due to the casualness, the lightness of his words. Speaking about Mr Pucey like he was going to walk in through the door any moment.

For that one moment, Adrian heard his heart pounding loudly in his chest, threatening to burst out of his throat. Then, he felt Tiberius's knee suddenly shift away from his.

Tiberius slammed his fist down on the table. "He's dead," he spat, looking directly at Augustus for the first time that night.

Augustus slowly placed his fork down. "Excuse me?" he asked, brows lightly furrowed.

Tiberius set his palms down flat on the table, rose from his seat, stared down at Augustus across the table. "You heard me. Your Death Eater friend killed him. How dare you come into our home, take his seat, and pretend to be none the wiser. How fucking dare you!" he spat, the table rattling briefly under his grip.

"Tiberius," Madam Pucey started, a note of warning in her tone. Or perhaps, a note of plea.

Tiberius abruptly stepped away from the table, breathing hard, looked away to the door. "Adrian, I'm finished with my dinner. I'm off to bed. Good night."

Adrian slowly unclenched his fist. "Good night, Ty."

Tiberius stormed out of the room without another word, without a backward glance.

Augustus watched the empty doorway after he left for several moments, then turned to Madam Pucey. "I'm willing to excuse the boy's blatant insolence, Octavia, because it seems you've neglected to tell me something," he said, soft yet stern.

"I thought you knew," she replied, somehow softer.

Augustus barked a harsh laugh that caused the hairs on the back of Adrian's neck to stand up. "I hardly know what day it is most days," Augustus said. "Who?" he asked then, his face abruptly going blank except for a vein pulsing in his temple. "Which one of my dear friends shall I pay a visit to?"

Madam Pucey darted a glance towards Adrian. "Barty Crouch Jr."

Augustus pushed back in his chair. "Would you like me to kill him? Or would your prefer to do it yourself?" he asked, as casually as if he was speaking about the weather. He turned to Adrian then, narrowed his eyes lightly. "Or perhaps your son-"

"No," Madam Pucey cut him off, her hand gripping his arm to keep him seated. "You said it yourself, Augustus. You don't know what happened."

She called for Pipsy then, asked for the Quibbler. She did not mention the edition, but Pipsy returned with a copy of the Quibbler containing Rita Skeeter's interview of Adrian and Potter.

Madam Pucey handed the paper to Augustus. "Read," she said in a clipped tone.

Augustus complied with a small scowl on his face. He carefully set the paper down then. "It changes nothing," he declared.

Madam Pucey crossed her arms, raised both eyebrows. "I can't imagine the Dark Lord will be pleased if you picked a fight with the wizard who helped bring him back," she said, blunt.

"I wouldn't pick a fight, I would finish it," he replied, a hint of arrogance to his tone.

"Enough, Augustus," she said severely, before looking away. She took a calming breath then, and turned to Adrian. "You may retire for the night, Adrian," she said tersely, more an order than a suggestion.

Adrian pressed his lips together, nodded, left the room.

Tiberius was down the corridor outside the room, the end of a string held to his ear, and he made no attempt to hide his eavesdropping.

Adrian briefly considered dragging him away, stopping him from listening in to the conversation in the room. There was no telling what Augustus would talk about with their mother.

Tiberius, both eyebrows raised, held out another of the Weasley inventions towards him,

Considering he was just sent to bed like a recalcitrant schoolboy, Adrian took the string, inserted its end into his ear.

"Is that why you didn't visit me at Yule?" Augustus asked softly, sounding oddly vulnerable.

Octavia nodded lightly.

He turned his eyes down to his hands. "I thought, perhaps, you had finally grown weary of coming to see me," he said, shrugged lightly, dismissively. "I couldn't curse you for it."

And in that moment, he looked so much like Tiberius that Octavia felt her throat close. "I didn't want to burden you," she said.

"Do you think I'd prefer you carry the burden yourself?" he asked, frowning at her. "I can't imagine…" he trailed off, shook his head. He took her hands in his then, kissed the back of one gently. "My one solace all these years has been that you and the boys are well taken care of. If there is anything I can do for you, anything at all, you know I am here for you now."

Octavia nodded, gripped his hand tighter, blinked her eyes as they welled up. And she allowed herself to finally acknowledge how utterly lonely she was.

Augustus pulled her in a hug.

And she clung to him, attempted to keep her tears at bay.

Augustus pressed a kiss to her hair. "Forgive me, Octavia," he whispered.

Octavia only clung harder to him, felt the floodgates threaten to burst open as she let out a choked sob. She clutched at his sides.

And Augustus flinched at her closeness.

She froze, pulled back from his arms and glared up at him. "You're hurt," she said, accusing.

He lightly touched a side of his torso. "The debacle at the Ministry," he said, smiled wryly.

Octavia rose from her chair, hastily wiping the tears streaking down her cheeks. "And you sat through dinner without a word? Come, let me have a look."

Outside in the corridor, Tiberius, his eyes little glossy, threw Adrian an alarmed look.

Adrian quickly grabbed Tiberius's arm, hurriedly dragged him to the next room.

Seconds later, Augustus followed Madam Pucey down the corridor.

"Where do you think they're going?" Tiberius asked in a whisper.

"The lab," Adrian answered, reluctantly.

"Do you think that he was hurt because…" he shrugged lightly, dismissively, started making a loop out of the string in his hands. "I guess it doesn't matter. I'm going to my room," he said.

And Adrian could read the rest of the sentence in the droop of Tiberius's shoulders as he walked out of the room.

Was Augustus punished for his detour to get Tiberius to safety?

Adrian clenched his jaw. Of course it didn't matter. It was the least Augustus could have done really, wasn't it?

"Biddan," he called softly.

Biddan, his personal elf, appeared noiselessly. "Biddan lives to serve Master Pucey," he acknowledged deferentially, bowing so low his nose touched the floor.

"This is for your ears alone," Adrian said, conspiratorially.

Biddan took a step closer, waved his hand lightly in the air. "Biddan lives to serve Master Pucey."

"I'd like to listen in on mother and Augustus. No one must know," he said.

Biddan bowed again, his nose again touching the floor. "Biddan lives to serve Master Pucey.

"Thank you, Biddan. That will be all," Adrian nodded.

Biddan disappeared instantly, and Adrian set off towards the lab.

"Why are you here, Augustus?" Octavia asked, a little wary.

"Do I need a reason?" he countered, almost defensive.

She frowned lightly, reached for his hand. "Talk to me, please."

Augustus remained silent for several moments, contemplating her hand that was lightly holding onto his.

"He seeks new blood," he announced then, solemn. "A new generation."

Octavia let go his hand, stepped back. "So soon?" she asked, her lips thinning. "He's not even of age yet. You know we cannot be certain of his Sight until he comes of age," she said, a little desperate. "Surely the Dark Lord understands-"

"Not Tiberius," he cut in.

Her words died, her eyes widened. "No," she breathed, her voice a whisper.

Augustus looked away. "The first Triwizard Champion in how many decades? And defeating Harry Potter to get there?" He turned back to her, eyes sharp. "He would be the first. The best of-"

Octavia stepped closer to him, grasped the front of his robes with a hand. "Don't you dare," she hissed, harsher. "Not Adrian. Thomas would never – not my son, Augustus," she said, desperation in her tone.

Augustus gently caught her hand, attempted to remove it from wringing the front of his robes. "Think about it, Octavia," he urged. "Your son would lead a new era of change. He would be held in the highest esteem, above all others-"

Octavia abruptly let go of his robes, stepped back, and drew her wand out to point at his throat. "Tell me you did not offer my son to the Dark Lord," she demanded, soft and stern.

Augustus scowled lightly. "It is extremely disrespectful to point your wand at a wizard you're talking to," he said in a low tone.

She dug her wand harder into his throat. "Swear to me."

He ground his jaw, slowly raised his hand, grabbed her wand arm around the wrist, forced it away to the ground. "I'm going to forgive that as motherly sentiment."

Octavia wilted, dropped her wand at the nearby table, moved closer to him. "You will talk him out of it, yes?" she pleaded, gentler, grabbing his hands in hers.

A slightly sour expression formed on his face. "I thought I was offering him your son," he sneered.

"Augustus," she quavered. "You said, anything you can do for me. This is it!" she stressed. "I have already lost my husband to the cause. Don't let them take my son. Promise me you won't let them."

Augustus pressed his lips together. "Sit," he ordered, calm and stern.

Octavia allowed herself to be guided to a nearby chair, but refused to let go of his hands. "My son, Augustus. Thomas's son. Please."

Augustus looked away, exhaled harshly. "You do ask for the simplest of things, my dear," he remarked.

She hugged him lightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

He grumbled under his breath, gently pushed her away.

She took a small moment to compose herself, wiping away an escaped tear, tucking away her wand. She then reached for his hand again, held onto it in hers. "I suspect Pipsy might have prepared a room for you. Will you stay the night?"

He raised both eyebrows at her. "Whatever happened to the rules?"

Octavia looked down to their hands. "If you want to stay, you are welcome to," she said carefully.

He shook his head in the negative.

"Is there anything else I can do for you then?" she asked.

He scoffed. "You needn't descend to patronizing me, Octavia. I will do what I can for your son," he said, pulled his hand away, roughly ran it through his hair.

Her eyes narrowed lightly at him. "Why are you here, Augustus?" she asked.

His forehead creased. "I just told you."

"Why else, then?" she persisted. She smiled sadly then. "The rules, Augustus."

He scowled briefly at her, then got up from his seat. He started pacing back and forth across the room, occasionally pausing to focus his gaze on something in the room, occasionally wiping roughly at his face.

He stopped abruptly then, turned to her. "Do you think I might-" he cut himself off, pinched the bridge of his nose. "But I suppose he might be asleep by now," he said. He gestured vaguely towards the door. "I don't know how to talk to Tiberius," he confessed, softer.

Octavia stiffened in her seat.

He stepped closer to her. "He was so, so very small, Octavia. When I last saw him," he said, indicating a child held gently in his arms. He dropped his hands then. "And now he's almost a man himself, and I don't know what I need to do to… " He shook his head. "He hates me," he whispered.

She immediately protested. "He does not-"

"Don't," he said, sterner. "I can plainly see that he resents me for Thomas's sake, at least. I only wonder what else he blames me for."

Octavia clasped her hands together, found herself unable to reassure him.