A dreadful announcement causes ripples, and let's all admit that Tom Riddle would be hot with a cigarette (but not the lung cancer).

LAST TIME: Harry began his stay at 12 Grimmauld Place, 1940's edition, and met the Black family. Dramatic Lucretia, serious Meissa, adorable Rigel, and the unstable and distant Melania, and we were reminded of the unpleasant history between Arcturus Black and Melania, where Melania was given a love potion during her debut ball and knocked up by Arcturus, and then forced into marriage. We then went to Tom, who took a fun trip to Little Hangleton, where he met Morfin and the Riddles. He murdered his father, but spared his grandparents, remembering Harry's love for his family. He then framed Morfin for the murder, and stole the ring and a photo of his family. Later in the summer, Harry and Orion took a trip to London, where Orion acted generally suspicious, and they met a group of muggle girls in the Underground. Orion revised his opinion on muggles, and Harry felt hopeful. We concluded with the announcement of Apus Black's death.

I'm gonna admit I made a mistake last chapter, and corrected it on one site pretty quickly, but not the other. I'll clear it up: Arcturus Black is Orion's father. Apus Black is Walburga's fiance. And Apus Black is the one who died :) Orion's father is still sadly alive.

"Walburga's fiancé is dead," Arcturus Black told them all, sat very sternly in his armchair.

There was a tangible tension in the room as the Black family children exchanged looks. Even Lucretia was subdued, and Harry saw her slip her hand into Orion's. Melania Black stood in the corner, her back straight as she crackled with fury. The Black matriarch in the presence of her husband was a very different being; the tiredness seemed to melt away, replaced by pure rage.

"How did he die?" Lucretia asked.

"In a duel with a muggleborn," Melania said stiffly, sneering. "They encountered one another on Apus' way to England. They argued over Grindelwald's occupation of Europe, and then they duelled. I am told Apus' end was… unpleasant."

Orion drew his hand away from his sister and sat up, looking very concerned. "How's Walburga?"

"She is behaving like a true lady of the noble Black house," Arcturus announced with gravitas.

"She's devastated," Melania said shortly, moving to the window and shooting a disgusted look towards her husband.

"But what's happening with the wedding?" Meissa asked, fiddling with her skirts. "Who will Walburga marry now?"

"Orion," Arcturus said.

Orion glanced up. "Yes?"

Arcturus smiled a little at the misunderstanding, a minuscule crack of emotion. "No: you. She will marry you."

Orion's face drained of all colour. "B-but-"

"It makes perfect sense. Your engagement with Dorea fell through-"

"Due to that Potter boy," Melania muttered, and Harry jumped a little.

"-And now so has Walburga's. The two of you will make a beneficial pairing. Both Pollux and Apus are dead, and therefore Walburga's position in the family is uncertain without an engagement. It's what's best for the both of you."

Harry wanted to speak up, not least because Orion looked like he was going to throw up, but Harry was also starting to doubt that Arcturus Black had any humanity. A 'beneficial pairing'? This was his son!

"Of course," Arcturus continued, "we don't expect you to marry this summer. After you graduate Hogwarts, we can begin to discuss options and dates."

"P-please," Orion stuttered. "There must be other options-"

"The decision has been made."

"But you can still change it-"

"I could. But you wouldn't let down your family, would you?" Arcturus asked pointedly.

"No," Orion said quietly, shrinking. "Never."

"Good. I'll send word to Irma then, and confirm the engagement."

Orion stumbled to his feet. "I- I'm sorry. I need to go."

He ran out of the room.

"You're both disgusting," Lucretia hissed, rising from the sofa. "It isn't enough to have one child miserable, you just have to keep going. Well, you're not talking me into anything. I'm never marrying!"

And she stormed out of the room too. The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed down the corridor, faintly muffled.

Arcturus Black shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You give that girl too much freedom, Melania."

"I know all too well what it's like to be forced into marriage, dear. I can understand her anger." Melania gritted her teeth and stared forward stubbornly, a storm brimming in her eyes.

"It's a fact of life. She must accept it."

Melania snorted bitterly. "Like you 'accepted' my refusal to dance that night?"

"I just wanted a chance, dear-"

"And what a chance you took."

Arcturus scoffed. "Will you ever get over that-?"

"Get over it!?" she screeched. "You've ruined me, Arcturus Black! I wish you were dead! I wish you were all dead!" And she sank to her knees, sobbing: "I didn't want this. I don't want any of you."

Harry was seized by the sudden urge to shake her, to point her towards her son and tell her to look, to see how history was repeating itself… but he didn't. Melania Black would be of no use to anyone, not like this.

And so Harry took Meissa- who was trembling slightly- and led the two of them out of the room, ignored by the still-arguing couple.

"She doesn't want us," Meissa said very dully. "Well, I don't want her."

"She's your mother," Harry said gently.

"No, she isn't."

Harry tightened his hold on her hand, but wasn't sure what to say to this little girl who seemed both older and younger than him.

"Why don't you go to your room, hm?" he suggested lightly. "Read a book or something."

"Because that's going to solve everything." Meissa gave him a very dirty look, and retrieved her hand. "You should help Orion," she said as she left, and Harry heard the unspoken 'because you can't help me'.

It was a good idea, nonetheless.

And so Harry hiked up the stairs to Orion's room, where he heard muted sounds coming from behind the door.

"Er, Orion?" Harry called out, rapping his knuckle on the door. "Are you okay? Can I come in?"

Harry took the faint sob as an acquiescence, and pushed his way into Orion's bedroom. He quickly located his friend, shaking and curled up in the corner of the room under the thrall of some kind of panic attack. Harry swore under his breath, and rushed to comfort Orion, sliding into the space beside him.

"Er…"

Harry's hand hovered awkwardly above his friend's shoulders. Did he hug him or give him space? A hug might be restrictive but-

Orion made the choice for him, curling into Harry's side until he was nestled beneath his arm. Harry froze, suddenly very aware of where all his limbs were. Did he rest his arm on Orion's shoulder, or hold it in the air? But Orion didn't seem to care what Harry did, and his breathing slowed as he relaxed into the human touch.

It took a little while for Orion for calm down, and when he finally drew away to sit unsupported, his face still looked utterly miserable, his eyes red and puffy.

The fire flickered low and dull, but with a violent flick of Orion's wand, the flames surged up until they were crackling merrily. It felt rather like a paradox.

"So, er," Harry said, searching for a distraction. "How come we can do magic?"

"What do you mean?" Orion asked hoarsely, his voice not dissimilar to crackling paper. "We're wizards."

"No, I know that: but I mean out of school? Doesn't the Trace pick it up?"

"What's a Trace?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "It's, er, a tool that the Ministry might use to find out when underage wizards do magic."

Orion snorted grimly. "That sounds ridiculous. Besides, we're in a war. They have better things to do."

So the Trace was a thing of the future. Harry did his best to not outwardly react to this information, despite the odd sensation of freedom that it gave him. He could go outside and transform a lamp post into an elephant, and the Ministry would never know.

The conversation petered out and the silence returned, Orion glowering darkly at the merry fire. As the events of the evening turned over in Harry's mind, he found several questions forming.

He wasn't sure how to best phrase them.

"So, er…" he began, his voice unnaturally low in the stifling room. "I get that it's not… er… fun, to be forced into marrying someone. But, I mean… you love Walburga. Why are you so upset?"

"I feel guilty," Orion admitted wretchedly, wrapping his arms around his legs.

"Because you're marrying Walburga?"

Harry had honestly thought that Orion might be happy about it.

"No, because she has to marry me." Orion said, wincing like he was drawing a knife from a wound.

"...I don't see the difference."

"Look, I might love her, but I know she doesn't feel the same- and honestly I didn't mind," Orion added quickly, shakily. "I just want her to be happy. I want her to be happy and in love with Druella, so they can laugh, and shop, and gossip about Atticus- but she can't do that if she's married to me."

"At least she knows you. You're friends."

"But that's the problem, don't you see?" Orion said desperately, almost angrily. "I told her once, you know. That I loved her. She laughed, and said that I'm like a brother to her. That it would be like kissing Cygnus."

Orion got to his feet, pacing irrationally.

"At least with Apus, she could start over, with at least the possibility of loving him- but now she's stuck with me, and we'll have to have children, and she'll never get a chance." And he let out a raw kind of sob, covering his face with shaking hands. "I'm a prison."

"I'm sure she doesn't see it like that-"

"She wanted to go abroad. And now she'll have to see Druella every day, knowing they can never be together. I've killed her."

"Surely they can still be, y'know, together? I mean, you wouldn't mind-"

"Walburga would never do that," Orion said furiously. "She's loyal. She wouldn't. And… and I don't want her to. I don't think I could live with it, knowing that my wife was sleeping with another woman. I want a marriage with someone who loves me. Not an empty contract." He crumpled to the floor, the hopelessness creeping back over his features. "We're going to end up resenting each other," Orion whispered faintly. "I'm going to turn into my parents."

"You won't," Harry assured his friend. "You won't."

But as they sat in silence, in mourning, the piercing loathing of Arcturus and Melania Black echoing through the house.

From what Orion had told him, Number 63 Ruesday Avenue was almost identical to Grimmauld Place, except located in Manchester. For a family that so loathed muggles, the Blacks had an awful habit of building houses in muggle populated areas. It was, however, where Walburga lived, and so Harry took a train and hiked across Manchester in order to find Number 63. It wasn't like Orion was going to do it- he'd said he felt too awful to face Walburga so soon.

As Harry knocked on the rather intimidating door, he wondered if he hadn't perhaps made yet another hasty mistake. He was good at those.

The door creaked open, seemingly no one on the other side. Harry took a few steps back, and peered into the hallway beyond. Perhaps they were hiding?

"Yes? Is you wanting something?"

Harry glanced down, and found a house-elf peering up at him, well-kept but downtrodden behind the eyes.

"Oh, er." Harry had never quite gotten used to house elves, not even after spending a summer with Kreacher. Perhaps because Kreacher was the least accommodating house-elf to have ever been born (which Hermione had found delightful, despite the racial slurs). "I'm here to see Walburga?"

"You is having a name?"

"Harrison Peters."

The house-elf bent its head deferentially. "Ceely will inform the mistress, sir. You is coming inside for a minute?"

"Sure," Harry agreed, and stepped into the hallway, stepping around the troll-leg umbrella stand. Apparently they were quite the fashionable statement.

"You is waiting here now," Ceely told him authoritatively, and disappeared with a crack.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and pulled at his collar awkwardly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He found himself automatically smoothing down his fringe, even though he had far too many scars now to hide them with hair. He glanced around him, inspecting the many portraits, who all seemed to be muttering amongst themselves suspiciously. He caught snatches like 'breeding' and 'mudblood', so it didn't take a lot to guess what they were talking about.

"I'm a halfblood, actually," he said loudly, and smirked when the portraits erupted into scandalised mutterings. He imagined it was one thing to speculate about blood purity, but quite another to declare it brazenly.

"Harrison. How unexpected," Walburga said cordially, descending the stairs. "Grand-maman, do quieten them, won't you?"

A portrait of a regal elderly lady nodded and snapped in harsh French at her neighbours, who all fell silent.

"Won't you follow me to the parlour?" Walburga offered, dressed in very proper robes and a full, luxurious skirt.

"Said the spider to the fly," Harry muttered, remembering a quote that Hermione had once used. He thought it might have been before one of Snape's Potions lessons.

They climbed up the stairs, and Harry felt very unsure. Normally, Walburga would have been all glee and wittering on if someone called to visit, but she was acting very unlike herself. He wondered if this was how she'd decided to deal with the trauma- he supposed he was about to find out.

As they entered the parlour and seated themselves, Harry was still watching Walburga with caution. Walburga had never seemed dangerous before, but she was unpredictable now. She had become an unknown element.

"So what can I do for you?" Walburga asked finally, settling herself and smoothing out her skirts. "I have to admit, I don't have much time. Cancelling the ball seems to have taken up more time than organising it."

"You're cancelling the ball? But you loved that thing."

"It would hardly be appropriate now. Especially not the cause."

"Er, what was the cause again?"

"Supporting the underprivileged. Like muggleborns," Walburga said very coldly.

"Why isn't that appropriate?"

"I'm not raising money for muggleborns after they murdered my fiancé," Walburga hissed.

"You know that was just one muggleborn, right?" Harry asked uncertainly. "You can't blame all of them for what one person did-"

"Who says?" Walburga spat. "Who says that I can't? Who says that I can't decide who ruined my life?"

"A pureblood murdered my family. I don't hate you all."

"Well, that's your decision." Walburga bit her lip, taking a deep breath. "I- I don't hate muggleborns. I would never do that. I just now harbour a healthy suspicion. I thought they were someone to be helped, but I see now that I was wrong. What they're capable of."

"Apus died in a duel. Not a murder or an assassination or anything like that. Now I've never met Apus, so I can't really judge, but he's got to be at least partially responsible-"

"You're right. You can't judge," Walburga said scathingly. She shifted, regaining her composure. "I'm sorry. This is a stressful period, I'm sure you understand."

"Not really," Harry said, and couldn't quite contain his glare. "I'm trying to figure out why you don't 'harbour a healthy suspicion' towards purebloods for murdering countless muggles and muggleborns across Europe, to be honest."

"That's different. Of course, I don't support their actions-"

"How is it different-?"

"Because that's not my life!" Walburga screamed suddenly. "They're not my fiance! I'm allowed to be selfish for once in my life, before I throw it away!"

Harry shook his head. There was no point arguing with her- she was irrational and grieving. She was never going to listen to reason.

Walburga tried for a tight smile. "How's Orion?"

"He's a bit of a wreck, actually. Hasn't come out of his room in days."

"Oh." For a moment, Walburga looked a little lost and scared, and more like Harry had expected. "Well."

"We heard the news when we got back from Muggle London, actually," Harry said, watching for her reaction.

Walburga raised an eyebrow. "And what were you doing in Muggle London?"

"Showing Orion that muggles aren't savages," Harry replied unashamedly.

Harry saw Walburga's lips purse.

"I have been entrusted with bringing some dignity back to the British branch of our family," she said steadily, her hands clenching. "And your… beliefs counter that. But I understand that you're Orion's friend, and I respect that. It's his choice to associate with you. The last thing I want is to make Orion unhappy. But please," Walburga said, desperation leaking into her voice. "Don't turn him to your views. It will make things difficult for everyone."

"What happened to you?"

It was beyond disturbing to watch someone who'd seemed so light and young grow visibly older before his eyes.

Walburga ignored his question again and instead rose to her feet. She swept across the room, where she began preparing tea. She directed a question behind her: "do you want a cup?" and Harry politely refused. He thought her hands might have been shaking. Walburga brought the tea back to her seat and sat down, taking a dainty sip. The cup clattered minutely on the saucer.

"I'm stuck here now," Walburga said very quietly in between sips. "I have to grow up, and start becoming the woman I'm supposed to be. I have to… break away from things I knew before. I won't shame Orion."

"Come on, Walburga, you know Orion wouldn't be embarrassed by anything you do. He loves you."

"I know he does. That makes it worse." Walburga placed her tea cup on a side table. "I'm done talking now, if you wouldn't mind. I trust you don't need Ceely to show you out?"

"Oh," Harry blinked at the sudden turnaround. "No."

"Good." Walburga nodded politely. "Goodbye then, Harrison. Have a good trip back."

And then there was nothing left for Harry to do other than walk uncertainly out of the room. As he cast one last glance back, Walburga had her head bowed and her hands held tightly in her lap, her frame tense. Harry opened his mouth as if to stay something, but closed it again.

This was beyond him.

And so he closed the door gently behind him, the doorknob turning very finally. The sound of footsteps followed, and a click.

When Harry tried the door again, it was locked.

"I just need time to think- this is a huge decision-"

Harry paused in his journey down the stairs, raising his eyebrows as Druella came stumbling out into the hallway below him. She looked frazzled and exhausted, tear-tracks glistening on her cheeks. Harry had never seen her look so delicate. She was followed through the door by a young man, with Walburga's hair and a stern, serious demeanour. This had to be Walburga's brother: Cygnus.

"Come on, Miss Rosier, be reasonable-"

"Miss Rosier?" Druella laughed, but it sounded more like a cry for help. "Since when did you call me 'Miss Rosier'? We grew up together!"

"Which is precisely why this proposal works-"

Druella threw her hands up. "But it doesn't!"

"If you'd just be sensible- I really can't see a reason for objection."

"I don't want to marry! I want to get a job in Quidditch, and I want to live independently, and I want-" Druella hesitated, biting her lip. "I don't want to marry," she repeated.

Cygnus moved closer to Druella, and she shuffled back until she had her back to the wall and couldn't go any further.

"You have to eventually," Cygnus said. "It's inevitable. Wouldn't it be better to marry into a family you know would provide for you?"

"It's not inevitable," Druella objected, but she sounded like she was still convincing herself. "I don't have to."

"If we were to marry, we would unite the Rosier and Black families, combine our influence, and you and Walburga could be sisters. Just imagine that!" Cygnus grabbed Druella's hand and held it close to his chest, staring at her earnestly.

Harry could see Druella's resolve slip at the mention of Walburga, the exhaustion painting lines into her cheeks that made her seem much older than 17 or 18.

"I-I-" Druella stuttered, her cheeks very pale and her voice very quiet. "If- if we were to be sisters… she'd be mine…" The phrase was barely a whisper, but filled with a sort of desperate, intimate possessiveness.

"It'd be perfect. We'd be a family."

Druella covered her mouth, her whole posture screaming want.

Harry was seized with an urge to stop this, right now. This was, without question, something that Druella would regret.

"Druella!" Harry called out, interrupting the couple. "I didn't know you were here!"

"Peters," Druella said woodenly, her jaw very tight, but she didn't turn away from Cygnus. Harry and Druella never been close, and Harry now cursed this. "What ae you doing here?"

"Same thing as you, I imagine. Trying to talk some sense into Walburga."

"Yes, well, good luck with that," Druella replied, voice coloured with anger, and her eyes flickered to his. "She won't listen. She's determined to go through with this thing. It's going to kill her- but… maybe I can still be there for her…" and Druella's gaze drifted back towards Cygnus.

Harry was losing her.

"If you'd excuse us," Cygnus said politely, "we were discussing something rather important, and Miss Rosier was about to come to the best conclusion for the both of us."

Druella didn't seem to disagree, and parted her lips slightly, a hare's breath away from agreeing.

Harry was not going to let this be the day that three futures were ruined.

Merlin, if only he'd been closer to Druella. He had to know something about her, something that could get her out of this absurd trance-

"Ice cream!" Harry blurted out abruptly, and Druella raised an eyebrow, breaking eye contact with Cygnus.

"What?"

"Strawberry and pistachio. It's your favourite."

Druella frowned. "How did you know that?"

"Cassius told me."

"Oh Morgana," Druella murmured, rather like waking from a dream. "Cassius. He'd never forgive me if I went through with this. He's always said…" She trailed off distantly, but something inside of her became present and aware, unlike before. Druella turned back to Cygnus and nodded cordially, her aloofness returning. "I'm sorry, Cygnus, but I'm going to have to decline your proposal. I shan't be marrying you."

"Very well," Cygnus accepted, but his smile was markedly less pleasant than before. "I just thought I'd make my interest known."

He brushed against Harry's shoulder rather pointedly as he left, and Harry felt like he ought to assure him that 'really, mate, it's not what you think'. (He didn't).

Harry turned back to Druella, suddenly unsure of what to do. He'd just interceded in her proposal, after all.

Druella, evidently, felt no such awkwardness.

"Well," she said expectantly, throwing a silk scarf over her shoulder. "Shall we go then?"

"…Go where?"

Druella rolled her eyes impatiently. "Fortescue's, of course."

Harry followed Druella out of the door obediently, but not without pointing out that: "When I talked about ice cream, it wasn't so much an invitation, more of a statement, but okay."

"You just revealed that you've been discussing my favourite ice cream flavours with my brother, Peters, the least you can do is buy me a cone."

The further Druella got away from Number 63 Ruesday Avenue, the surer of herself she seemed to become, until she was rolling her eyes like usual. Druella offered her arm, and Harry glanced down at it uncertainly. Was he supposed to escort her somewhere?

Druella sighed long-sufferingly. "For side-along apparition, Peters. I presume you haven't taken the test?"

"I haven't even had any lessons," he admitted, gripping onto her coat sleeve.

"Most people's parents teach them. Or take lessons during the holidays," she admitted, probably realising that the former wasn't really an option for Harry.

"Sounds like a fun way to spend the summer."

"Means you wouldn't have to cling to my arm like a flobberworm, though," Druella suggested, and turned on her heel, dragging Harry through the uncomfortable tube of apparition.

Note to self: Druella got mean when upset.

Harry was surprised that Fortescue's actually had strawberry and pistachio ice cream, but Druella seemed to know exactly where to go to find her favourite snack. Harry was rather impressed.

"Strawberry and pistachio sundae, please. With raspberry sauce and sprinkles, and however much sugar you can pile on top," Druella ordered in the store. She turned to face him. "Peters?"

"Oh, er, nothing for me."

"Come on- you're paying, after all."

"I don't really have any money," Harry said uncertainly. "Unless they accept pocket fluff as currency."

Druella sighed once again. "I suppose I'll pay then. You can be forgiven considering your financial circumstances. He's an orphan," she told the cashier, who was trying desperately to ignore her politely.

Harry frowned. Even though Druella had a rather brusque nature, that was rather a lot, even for her. He supposed she was still off-balance.

But Druella got her ice cream and led them to a little table in the corner, where she proceeded to devour the huge sundae with vigour. Harry wondered what Walburga would say about Druella's lack of decorum, and then decided sensibly to avoid that topic.

"So why were you there to talk to 'Burga?" Druella asked through a mouthful of ice cream, gesturing with her spoon. "You're not very close."

"I sort of came to argue Orion's side," Harry admitted. "I'm staying in Grimmauld Place for the summer."

"'Orion's side'?" Druella said scathingly. "He doesn't have a side. At least he's in love with her."

"You, er, know about that?"

"He's about as subtle as the Malfoy family peacocks."

"Yeah, that's fair."

Harry awkwardly fiddled with a sprinkle on the table, rolling it back and forth, as Druella decimated a scoop of ice cream.

"He's really upset, you know," Harry said quietly. "He doesn't want to force Walburga into marriage."

"Yeah, well, Walburga doesn't want to be forced," Druella spat. She groaned, and ran a hand over her forehead. "I'm sorry. It's not even him I'm really angry at. It's probably Walburga, if I'm totally honest. She doesn't want this, but she won't bloody tell them, for all the good it would do. At least it would give her a cause. But no, she's determined to fulfil her 'duties', even if they're going to make her miserable."

"I still don't understand though," Harry muttered. "Why is it so awful to marry Orion?"

"You didn't grow up with us," Druella shook her head. "You couldn't possibly understand. We were so close- we did everything together. It's lonely, being a pureblood child. You get educated at home and don't see many other children. We were each other's havens."

She traced little circles on the table with her spoon, lost in another time.

"Obviously, Orion developed some quite different feelings for Walburga, but Walburga loves Orion like a brother." Druella's gaze flickered back up to Harry's, intense and angry. "I know you don't have any siblings, but you can try to imagine. Walburga knows that she can never love him the way he wants her to, and that she's going to make someone she cares about very miserable. It's fucking bullshit."

Harry leapt back, taken aback. "But she was marrying Apus before, and then she'd have to move to Romania. She'd have left all the people she cared about behind. Surely this is better."

"Before, if Walburga couldn't have m-" Druella bit her lip. "If she couldn't have the life she wanted," she amended, "she'd at least get to leave it all behind. Now she'll be stuck here, remembering what we can't have. We'll have to restrain ourselves, even though we could so easily just apparate-"

"Do you need a tissue?" Harry asked, spotting a glittering sheen in the corner of Druella's eyes.

"I'm not crying," she snapped, wiping away a tear. "I'm not- I- stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you pity me," Druella hissed. "I don't need your pity. I'm not being forced into a marriage, or being held to ransom by my family- just stop."

"I'm not pitying you," Harry insisted. "Really-"

"Well, why not?" Druella shouted, and buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

Harry felt quite uncomfortable, and glanced discreetly around the parlour. Luckily, it was practically empty.

"I'm sorry," Druella muttered, scrubbing at her face with the palm of her hand. "I'm never emotional. I'm never like this."

"What happened before I found you, earlier?" Harry asked, filled with morbid curiosity. "You were going to marry Cygnus. That's not like you."

"I know," Druella admitted. "I- I-" She took a deep breath, and stared intently into her ice cream. "You won't tell anyone what I say, will you?"

Harry shook his head.

Druella lowered her voice secretively. "You've guessed, probably, about mine and Walburga's feelings for one another."

"About as subtle as Malfoy's peacocks."

Druella smiled slightly. "Well, our families still don't know. It's not altogether acceptable, not that I care, but… y'know. Walburga's all about appearances. And so she suggested that since… since we'll be staying close together after all, we should break off our friendship to… maintain the integrity of her marriage." And against her wishes, Druella let out a little sobbing hiccough. "She's going to leave me so we don't cause a scene. She never cared before. I don't care. She's got some kind of idea to punish herself, I don't know why. It's like now that she's marrying Orion, she's not allowed to be happy again. She's so stupid!"

"But she didn't feel like that when she was marrying Apus-"

"Oh, Apus wouldn't have cared. I'm fairly sure he knew about us. And it wouldn't have mattered if we 'met' every few months in Romania, in her new life. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be ours." Druella smiled longingly, and then her smile twisted. "But she cares about Orion. And so now that she's staying here, she doesn't want to 'shame' herself, or him. Apparently," Druella said, her throat very tight, "I'm shameful. I thought that if I were married… well, no one would think anything of it."

"She'll get over this. She just needs time. It's a big thing to happen, for everyone-"

"Oh, but that's not all," Druella chuckled bitterly. "She told me that she 'can't be friends with someone who supports muggles anymore'. She's got some kind of vendetta against them because of Apus, and she won't listen to me, Harry. It's like she's grieving for herself. I refuse to compromise my views for her, but I want to. Morgana, I want to."

"I'm sure she's not that bad."

Druella shook her head resolutely. "She's been fighting all her life against her stupid family's views. I think she's giving in. I don't even recogniseher. How can I not recognise the woman I love?"

"I don't know what to say." Harry felt helpless.

"Tell me about it," Druella said balefully. "Thank you, though, for stepping in back there. I was about to do something really fucking stupid." She took a deep breath. "I think I thought by marrying her brother, I could force the connection with her, but… it doesn't work like that."

"Was that what the letter was about, at the feast? Marrying you?"

"Oh. Yes. I thought he might have been offering me a job, maybe he was interested in my skills, but turns out he sees me as a political tool to be bargained with. Typical, really." She tried to play it off, but Harry could tell she was quite deeply affected. "I'm just lucky, I suppose, that my parents let me make my own decisions. Not like Walburga's mother."

"Men are rubbish," Harry said consolingly.

Druella tried for a wry smile, but it was shaky. Harry reached across the table, and patted her hand.

"It will get better, I promise. For women, and for you."

Druella raised an eyebrow. "You have no idea if that's true."

"It is," he said certainly. "I know it will."

And they sat in the ice cream parlour, in a little corner of Diagon Alley, as three lives fell to pieces around them.

Harry got the bus back from Manchester to London, but couldn't quite bring himself to go back to Grimmauld Place. He frowned, taking a few uncertain steps in the direction towards home, but didn't think he could bear to enter that depressive, heavy space; where everyone drifted around lifelessly, tethered to earth by their own misery. Rigel had soon picked up on the dreary mood, and wailed almost constantly. It felt like a ghost house.

He honestly didn't know how Sirius had stood it.

And so Harry turned decisively and went the opposite way. He might as well enjoy London in the summer heat, and make the most of not being forced to garden in t-shirt three sizes too big. And it was whilst he was wandering the streets that he spotted Tom Riddle.

Tom was leant up against a lamppost, dressed plainly but neatly in muggle clothes. He didn't seem to notice Harry, raising a graceful hand and pressing a cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. Tom leant his head back and opened his mouth slightly, smoke trailing elegantly into the sky.

Harry did a double-take at the bad habit.

"Those things will rot your insides," Harry called out, strolling closer. He might as well get a conversation out of his detour. Harry also glanced around curiously, wondering where Tom's orphanage was. He kind of wanted to see it.

"Those studies were dismissed," Tom said, looking unsurprised to see Harry appear out of nowhere. Harry needed to step up his game (or get some tips from Cassius).

"That's because the tobacco companies have the newspapers by the balls," Harry said, remembering when his primary school teacher had gone on a very long rant about the history of tobacco, ending in why her husband should quit cigarettes immediately. It had been unnecessarily fervent for addressing 10 year olds, but at least it was memorable. This had been before Harry turned her wig blue.

"Well, I suppose you'd know," Tom shrugged, and flicked the cigarette to the floor. It died quickly.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Harry was disappointed by the sudden absence of an excuse to look at Tom's mouth. It was a very nice mouth. The majority of Harry, however, was just very, very surprised.

"What?" Tom said defensively, noticing Harry's look of astonishment

"You listened to me."

"Well, I'm hardly going to argue with you about future consequences, am I? That would be foolish."

"Oh yeah," Harry remembered, amused all over again. "'Cause I'm a seer. Ooo!" He waved his hands mysteriously. "Prophecies! Divination! Lung cancer!"

"You don't have to mock me," Tom said, unimpressed. "You of all people should know the value of Divination."

Harry snorted. "'Cause it's such a solid subject."

"I meant the value of proven Divination. Seers and prophets. Not the school subject. It's utterly useless- there's very little future-telling that can be taught or gained without natural talent."

"God, Hermione would have loved you." Harry said musingly. "If it had been just the Tom Riddle now-" he waved vaguely at Tom's entirety, "–she'd have fallen half in love. Feminist, handsome and hater of Divination. You'd have been her dream man."

"You think I'm handsome?" Tom asked with a smug little smile.

Harry went bright red. "No- that's- if Hermione- not- oh, shut up."

Tom grinned triumphantly. "Certainly. If it's keeping you from admiring my handsomeness-"

Harry physically restrained himself from throwing a hex. "You'd be more handsome if you were less of a smug git," he muttered.

"Oh come, Harrison, I'm only teasing." A pause. "You can't blame me for being so spectacularly good looking."

"I swear to god, Riddle, I will curse you."

"No you won't," Tom said lightly, gesturing towards a muggle couple, tugging their daughter along behind them.

Harry conceded the point, and crossed his arms. He wasn't 'sulking', he was conducting a strategic silence.

"So, Hermione?" Tom asked, apparently having gotten everything he wanted from that little exchange. "That's your muggleborn friend, yes? The one taught by your parents."

"That's the one," Harry agreed. It would be childish to keep up his silence (and took a lot of effort).

"She disapproved of Divination?"

"Oh god yeah. Only lesson she's ever walked out of, I reckon. It was all far too… too vague for her. She liked Runes and Transfiguration and stuff. To be fair, I don't think I helped though. I just sort of made things up for the dream journals- it used to frustrate her more than anything. She didn't like half-arsed homework." Harry smiled fondly.

"She sounds sensible."

Harry wished more than anything that he could talk to his friends in that moment. 'Hear that, Hermione?' he'd say, 'Voldemort called you 'sensible'.'

Only, Tom wasn't really Voldemort, not yet anyway, and this sort of proved it.

"How did she die?"

Harry's mind stumbled a little at the blunt question. "Oh- er-" His tongue tripped over itself. "In the attack.

"Defending herself?"

"Yeah. And everyone else. It all came so fast: I- I tried- we all went to fight, but she was caught by a spell. She fell. She didn't get up again."

Harry could see it all over again: A Death Eater toppling to the ground and Hermione turning to him with eyes alight and a proud smile. "Well done, Ha-" And then the shock as she grimaced with pain, and fell to the floor as if in slow motion, her hair fluttering around her pale face. Harry had screamed, probably.

"Which spell was it?" Tom's voice sounded distant, like a dream.

"A curse. Some kind of purple one, like flames. I don't know what it was. She looked like she was sleeping."

"It might have been a rib breaker. That might have punctured something," Tom suggested thoughtfully. "Or an organ liquidation spell. Perhaps a petrified heart."

Harry went very cold and very sick, remembering the quiet "oh" from Hermione, before she had crumpled.

"I- no-" Harry's breathing went very fast, and his sight blurred. It was all his fault, all his fault. He couldn't breathe, and he was staring at a single spot on the pavement, but it kept wavering, and he could swear he was watching a blade of grass growing, breaking through the concrete and stretching towards the sun-

By the time he came back to his body, Harry was covering his mouth and retching. There was a comforting hand on his back, and Tom's voice saying, "I'm sorry, that was a little insensitive-"

"You think?!" Harry coughed.

"I confess I didn't expect such a violent reaction."

"I'm fine," Harry said, waving Tom away from him. "It wasn't just that. I'm getting these 'attacks' recently, like that one. It's probably left over from the attack. I was hit with a few spells."

"You should go to St Mungo's," Tom suggested with an oddly concerned expression, and he looked like he almost wanted to reach out to Harry again.

"I'm fine. It's manageable."

"That didn't look manageable to me."

"It's fine. There are worse things- it's not going to kill me."

There was a moment of silence between them, and Harry saw Tom's hand twitch towards his pocket. Harry wondered if Tom had a pack of cigarettes hidden there. In the end, Tom seemed to decide against it.

"Life is short," Tom said, frowning as he regarded Harry. "Brief."

"It goes fast."

It felt like almost yesterday that Harry set a snake on Dudley. Fond memories.

"Fleetingly," Tom agreed. "We're such tiny moments in such a huge stretch of time. Insignificant, if you think about it."

"I don't think anyone is insignificant. Not really."

Take Dobby for example. No one would have ever thought much of Dobby, but he ended up breaking Harry's arm in several places… and, Harry acceded, did his best to save Harry's life.

"Imagine if you could live forever though," Tom proposed. "Think of all the things you could do. You wouldn't leave anything undone, like this Hermione of yours, or my- your parents. You'd be unstoppable."

Harry froze, alarm bells going off. "Immortality isn't a good path to go down, Tom."

"Why ever not?"

"Trust me." Harry could remember Voldemort's desperate attempts to grasp at the Philosopher's Stone, and whatever twisted thing he'd done to tether himself to life again and again.

Tom tilted his head curiously, but seemed to accept the answer. Harry, however, wasn't naive enough to think that was the end of it, and realised that he'd probably have to keep an eye on what Tom did this year. Make sure he didn't murder any unicorns. (Although that unicorn from the forest would probably be more like to murder Harry first).

Harry watched Tom run a finger down the lamppost absently, wrinkling his nose at the smudge of dirt on his fingertip. The sound of birdsong rang in the summer air, and a cool gust of wind blew over the back of Harry's neck. It was almost idyllic.

Tom turned back to Harry expectantly. "So what have you been doing today? You looked rather unsettled earlier."

Harry thought he probably still looked unsettled, but shrugged. "I went to see Walburga."

"Ah yes, the Orion and Walburga engagement. Rather doomed from the start, isn't it?"

"How do you know about that?" Harry didn't think Tom would get many political updates in his muggle orphanage.

"I have my sources," Tom said, with an enigmatic smile that really shouldn't have made Harry's heart wriggle in his ribcage.

"Vague," he snorted, and tried to cover up the tremor in his voice. "Yeah, they're all resigned to go through with it. If they'd just talk- I dunno. I don't really know anything about pureblood politics. Orion's dad just keeps talking about 'keeping the money and blood in the family', whatever the hell that means."

"I presume you've been in the midst of it all, due to your summer lodging?" Tom asked mildly, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, there was a seed of jealousy rooted in Tom's eyes. Harry didn't blame him- there was nothing as envy-inducing as seeing your friends enjoying themselves as you were stuck with people who hated you. The magical world seemed like such a distant dream when you were labouring over a stove and listening to the screaming of children.

"Yeah, I have. It's a bit uncomfortable- I mean, I love Orion to bits, but there's not much I can do to help him."

"I'm sure he's just grateful for a friend."

"Maybe. What have you been doing this summer?"

"Oh, nothing nearly as exciting as you," Tom said, and the corner of his lips quirked indecipherably. "Exploring a little."

"Are you still living in your orphanage?" Harry asked suspiciously. He wouldn't put it past Tom Riddle to take over some muggle's house. Perhaps imprison them in the basement.

"No. I've taken over the Houses of Parliament," Tom said very seriously.

"You're an idiot."

"TOM!" The call came from a grim building: surrounded by tall railings that hid any possible garden beyond. The brick was dark and streaked with dirt, and many of the windows were poorly patched-up with tape. Harry had dismissed it earlier, but now that he looked closer, he noticed the 'WOOL'S ORPHANGE' sign and the faint chatter of children beyond the railings.

Tom made a sound of disgust under his breath. "Stupid woman."

"Looks like you're being summoned," Harry said, familiar with the sound of his name being yelled at an unpleasant pitch. Harry, however, had usually been addressed as 'boy'.

"They can't summon me," Tom snapped, and clenched his eyes shut in irritation as there was another yell. "I should, however, go and see what Mrs Cole wants. It was nice speaking to you, Harrison."

Harry bid Tom goodbye, and watched as he trudged into the orphanage. He'd known that Tom Riddle also had a less than ideal home life, but it was a different thing altogether, to actually see the crushing misery on his face as he was called 'home'.

It reminded Harry of how he also had to return home.

God, he hoped Orion was in a better mood.

Look, I know there's a moment where Dumbledore implies that the Trace was still around when Tom murdered his relatives. But I refuse to believe that, seeing as his justification for Tom getting away with the murders was 'the trace only picks up the magic, not the perpetrator', so under-age wizards could theoretically do magic in magical buildings. But the Riddle House is not a magical building, so why would the Ministry not pick up on three uses of the Avada Kedavra in this muggle building? That's pretty inept, even for the Ministry. And so my simpler solution: the Trace was introduced after Tom Riddle's time (aka like a lot of child safety laws). And seeing as the Dumbledore/Harry convo happened in the sixth book, it's not canon in this fanfic! Yay! So this is one of my 'AU changes'- sorry 'bout it.

Also, the Black family tree is bloody confusing. So I made my own version. It's not all strictly canon, but we can ignore that ;)

If you're confused about their motivations, I have a handy chart on why everyone's miserable.
I- I don't think I can make this better, not even with a cheesy nicknames. I'm sorry (I call Tom 'Tombola', if it helps).
Yeah, so this wasn't very cheerful. Pretty much everyone's in pain, and Harry can do absolutely nothing. I promise it will get happier in the future though, and this mess will get sorted out. At some point. And we saw a pretty major canon divergence here... MUWHA HA HA