~*T*~

"Better put your hands up and get in the van; or else you'll get blown away," the girls started into the last verse, danced as they sang. Amy's new parents laughed helplessly, hands over their faces while they peeked between their fingers.

"Stagin' a coup like yeah," Taylor sang,

"Brainwashin' moles like yeah," Amy sang a line.

"We only torture the folks we don't like; You're probably gonna be OK," Lisa sang, but that line was supposed to be a bit awkward.

"Yeee-aaa-hhh, it's a party in the CIA," they harmonized.

"Yeee-aaa-hhh, it's a party in the CIA."

Clapping filled the train car, and Taylor curtsied. Lisa and Amy bowed.

~*i*~

"So, other than songwriting, what do you three do for fun?" Hermione's mother asked.

Amy blushed from the tips of her ears to the collar of her shirt. Taylor grabbed her hand, completely blank-faced. Lisa looked at them, looked at Hermione's snickering parents, then cackled like the wicked witch she was.

"Moving off that topic," Hermione's father said quickly, which startled a laugh out of Taylor, "You are looking forward to magic school?"

"Mostly," Lisa suddenly smiled, shifted her accent a bit, "Mostly," she said again.

"What?" Hermione's mother, Michelle, asked.

"We'd better get back, because it's going to get dark soon, and they mostly come at night," Taylor quoted, paused, "Mostly."

"Your parents let you watch that?" Hermione's father, Ian, asked.

"My parents were killed by a magical terrorist who faked his death when I was 15 months old," Taylor answered, "Worst thing was, the Wizarding World bought it, hook, line, and sinker."

"So you don't think he's dead?" Michelle totally went with the diversion.

"No body, no wand. He scarpered," Lisa said, "The Wizarding World knows it, too, even if they won't admit it. He had a Taboo on his nom-de-guerre, and no one uses it to this very day, they refer to him as You-Know-Who, not even using his given name, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Do they even know his real name?"

"That's a really good question," Lisa agreed, "We'll have to check the Profit's archives."

"If they haven't published it already, it'll be really hard to get them to publish it now."

"A banner in the Ministry?"

"Nobody, not even Wizards, are dumb enough to buy that," Taylor said firmly.

~*i*~

"Bath," Amy said, once their excess bags are dropped in her room.

Taylor and Lisa shared a glance, "Do we have to?" Lisa whined perfectly, "We're not even dirty."

"We can totally fix that," Amy said, then grabbed the other two's hands, and led them from her room.

"Do we want to?" Taylor asked.

Lisa closed the bathroom door behind them, and pulled her dress off before answering, "The almost entirely not horny is convenient, I'm sure. It gives us about three hours a day back for other things," she cupped her teen-boy-flat boobs, "Plus it'd feel weird, at least for a bit."

Amy dropped her shirt on the floor before she leaned in and kissed Lisa, "Whatever you're comfortable with."

Lisa moaned into the kiss, pressed firmly against her wife. Amy clutched her back.

Taylor whimpered, "Almost completely," she said, and busied herself running the bath.

She shucked off and got in the hot water as soon as the temperature was almost right.

Amy and Lisa joined her a moment later.

"Not comfortable with this tackle," Taylor said, gesturing at the water, "And only almost completely not horny."

"I can fix that, too."

"Maybe later, I'm famous, and we may need that fame," Taylor sunk down under the water a bit more, up to her nose.

Lisa leaned in and kissed her scar, pulled back, and said something.

Taylor shifted, getting her ears out of the water, "What?"

"Mr. Riddle's quite confused. He craves love, but it hurts him at the same time. The more loved you are, the weaker he gets, the closer he gets to you. He'd give almost anything to be loved like you are, Taylor, but is so scared of losing himself."

"Really," Taylor asked.

Amy slid herself into Taylor's lap, wrapped her arms around her, and kissed her soundly.

"Really," Lisa affirmed, smiling, then kissed Taylor's scar again.

"That scared longing," Taylor smiled, "That's him."

Amy pulled Taylor's head down, and kissed her scar.

Lisa cackled, "Resistance is futile, Mister Riddle, your magical and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own," she said, before kissing her wives again.

Taylor rubbed her forehead on Lisa's shoulder, smiling, almost grinning.

~*T*~

The little girl expects no declaration of tenderness from her doll.
She loves it - and that's all. It is thus that we should love. - DeGourmont

~*T*~

Notes: It was about here that the Author made some design choices about this story.

The meta-amusing one: This Dumbledore isn't good, he isn't bad, he's just nice. He knows a lot of things, but he isn't wise. He was completely right about love being key to solving the dark lord problem, and completely screwed the pooch anyway.

He's totally Peter Principled himself: He is an awesome Transfiguration teacher, and while he could do an adequate job at any two of his major responsibilities, he's completely overwhelmed trying to accomplish all of them.

He also overfunctions under stress, which is why he Peter Principled himself, and willfully doesn't understand children, or adults, expecting them to behave as rational, trusting agents, instead of irrational beings who mistrust anything they haven't seen or experienced themselves.

The author hadn't read a non-wicked, non-senile Dumbledore in a while, so this seemed funny.

And the Author heard Weird Al's "Party in the CIA" for the first time just after the first draft of this, too.