A/N: Hi guys! I hope everyone's been doing well since my last update! I've been a writing machine the last week (I kid you not, I think I've written this entire chapter AND 6000 words for my original novel in just four days). I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I wasn't *quite* satisfied with it, since I had to move arguably the best scene to the NEXT chapter because it made the chapter over 12,000 words and that was just way too long.

The good news is Chapter 13 is already half-way written then, I guess. Hope you enjoy CH 12 though, and as always please rate/review!

Shameless plug again: check out my original story "The Dollmaker" on Wattpad if you're bored in between my monthly update schedule! I would love some feedback on that project as well :)

Undisclosed Location [June 1st]

Ronald Weasley clasped his hands underneath his head, lazily allowing his gaze to travel up the walls of their tent to the sloped ceiling. Alexander had gone off at the crack of dawn to train somewhere outside, leaving him to wallow in his own boredom alone.

"You really ought to get up now," A snide voice interrupted his thoughts, "This isn't exactly supposed to be a vacation."

Correction: Alexander had left him almost alone.

Ron rolled over in his makeshift bed to glare at the dark-haired witch standing in the kitchen area. "Parvati," He clenched his jaw, "Isn't it a little early for you have so much attitude?"

She snorted, "It's practically midday, Ronald." She turned her back on him to tend to something on the stove, "Normal people have been up for hours now, actually doing productive things."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron rubbed his face with tired hands as he reluctantly pulled the sheets off his body and got up. "If I had known you would've been this annoying, I would've insisted on getting a different maid," He muttered under his breath.

"I'm not your bloody maid," She sneered at him. "Alexander brought me along to help with his training and planning. Not to cook and clean up after you."

The redhead padded over to the kitchen and peered over her shoulder at the pot of green liquid bubbling away on the stove. He grimaced, "Don't worry, we definitely didn't bring you here for your cooking skills."

She scowled at him, "That's a revitalizing potion, you arse."

"Well, pardon me for thinking something on the stove was meant to be eaten," Ron crossed his arms over his chest with a frown.

"That's the problem when you always think with your stomach, and not your head," Parvati tsked. "In case you haven't noticed, we didn't exactly pack a potions kit or pewter cauldron. I had to make do with what we had in the tent."

"Why are you making a potion, anyways?"

"That would be for me," Alexander Potter pushed aside the tent flaps and strolled into the room, drenched in a layer of sweat. "I drink it after I train every morning."

"You would know that, if you woke up sometime before noon," Parvati pointed out crossly.

Ron shot her another glare when she turned around to ladle some of the potion into a coffee mug, of all things. He shook his head, "I still don't understand why we're doing this," He gestured to their unglamorous surroundings, "Why are we roughing it in the woods when you have an entire estate that you can train at, undisturbed?"

"We've been over this already," Alexander sighed, moving over to sit on the small couch in the center of the room. He smiled gratefully at Parvati when she handed him a mug of the revitalizing potion. "I can't go home right now."

"It's been almost two months since you found out about your brother," Ron retorted. "Your father has probably recovered by now too. There's no reason to hide out in some obscure part of the country like we're some sort of refugees."

"I don't want to see my father, Ron," Alexander gritted his teeth. "He's been lying to me for years, telling me all sorts of half-truths to keep me in line. I'm tired of being used. Can't you understand that?"

"You're the bloody Chosen One," The redhead snapped at his friend. "Half the wizarding world would fall over themselves to take care you. One hundredth of your Gringotts account could probably buy us a year's stay in the finest luxury resort. Why the hell are we slumming it in my family's old tent in the woods?"

"Merlin, Ronald," Parvati wrinkled her nose in disdain. "We're trying to keep a low profile while we figure out a way to destroy those dark objects Dumbledore told Alexander about. A little break from the outside world won't hurt us. Again, this is not a bloody vacation."

Alexander nodded in agreement, "The Ministry was unstable when we left, I don't even want to think about what's going on now. The Death Eaters have already taken over Hogwarts and the Order couldn't stop them. Have you even considered the fact that it might not be safe for me to be out in the open like that anymore?"

"Safe?" Ron barked out a laugh. "You're the Chosen One –a literal celebrity. The people would never turn against you."

"Things are changing, Ron," Alexander sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "My own brother has been working with the Death Eaters. He's been walking through the halls right beside me for all these years as Hadrian Riddle, plotting his revenge with every breath," He swallowed hard, "I-I need some time to think before I can face him again."

"What's there to think about?" The other man shot him an incredulous look. "He's trying to kill you, mate. He's a fucking Death Eater–nothing more than a low life criminal."

"I am well aware," Alexander said stiffly. "But he's in that position because of my–our family. Because of me. I don't want to harm him–regardless of who he is. I know you might think it's pathetic but," He averted his gaze and whispered, "He's the only other family I have left."

"Don't worry, we completely understand," Parvati hurried to reassure him. She rubbed his shoulder in a comforting manner, "Even if Padma decided to switch sides, I don't think I could hurt her. I know you and Riddle didn't exactly grow up together, but you're still brothers. Twins. Maybe there's still a chance for you to reconcile after the war?"

Ron looked offended at the mere suggestion. "You're on opposite sides! You might be related, but Riddle is not your brother. Get that into your head." He hissed, "He basically terrorized you all throughout school. He stole your popularity and convinced the entire castle he's just a charming schoolboy when he's been the devil incarnate all along! He's supporting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. If you see him on the street, I guarantee Riddle would show you no mercy. He'd bring you straight to his precious master, blood-relations be damned!"

"He might," Alexander replied evenly. "But as it stands, I can't think about him right now. Not when I have so many other things to worry about. I have to end this war before You-Know-Who can harm any more of the people I love," He shook his head firmly and decided, "I can only face my broth–I mean, Riddle–after Lord Voldemort has been destroyed."

Riddle Manor [June 20th]

"And then at two-fifty-four this afternoon, you are to make an appearance at the meeting with the Hogwarts Board of Governors," Draco rattled off to Hadrian, barely glancing down at the schedule sitting beside his half-eaten breakfast. "My mother has instructed you wear a blue tie–something about it being a peaceful colour."

"The Board of Governors?" Daphne raised an eyebrow as she poured herself a cup of tea. "I didn't know students were allowed in those meetings."

"They're not," Draco took a quick bite of his toast before saying, "Snape insisted they create a student representative position, sort of as a trial run for the year. It'll give us another way to influence the Hogwarts curriculum without looking too suspicious."

Hadrian frowned, "I'll try my best to be there on time, but I have the meeting with Rodolphus right before that to go over the new training standards for the new recruits."

"Send Neville in your place," Draco waved his hand dismissively. "The Board of Governors meeting is more important. You can meet with Uncle Rodolphus anytime, but the Board only meets once a month."

"Alright," Hadrian conceded easily enough. He was about to reach for another croissant when the doors to the dining room were flung open and Lucius Malfoy marched inside, looking a bit too bright-eyed for that early in morning.

"My Lord," The elder Malfoy inclined his head stiffly in lieu of a proper greeting. "It's time we depart for our meeting with our colleagues in Germany."

"Good morning to you too, Lucius," Hadrian rolled his eyes. "I suppose it's too much to expect to finish my breakfast just once before we leave."

"You should've gotten up earlier if you wanted a full continental," Lucius retorted.

"Father, it's too early for this," Draco groaned, gesturing over to one of the house elves. "Don't worry, Hadrian. I'll have Dobby pack up the rest of your breakfast to take with you."

"Forget it," His friend shook his head. "The idea of soggy eggs and toast does not sit well with me." He reluctantly stood up from the table and smoothed down the non-existent wrinkles in his dress robes. He stepped away from his seat at the head of the table and pressed a quick kiss to Daphne's cheek before he joined Lucius at the door.

"I'll see you this evening then, love?" Hadrian smiled, ignoring the way the elder Malfoy very obviously checked his watch in exasperation.

"Sorry, I can't hang out tonight. I have to scope out that spot of land in Portofino that Blaise was talking about. If it suits our needs, we can probably make an offer by the end of the week." Draco stabbed his fork into one of the strawberries on his plate, only to freeze as he felt every pair of eyes on him in the room. He leaned back in his seat in embarrassment, forcing out an awkward laugh, "Oh, I didn't hear you correctly–you were talking to– "

"Me," Daphne arched an amused brow at him. She chose not to tease her friend further and instead turned to face Hadrian with a rueful smile. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I won't see you until much later tonight as well. Hermione and I are commencing phase one of her project now that the restoration of the building is complete, and Headmaster Snape sent over a copy of the registry we needed to proceed."

"Best of luck to you, Miss. Greengrass," Lucius Malfoy spoke tightly, even as he steered Hadrian towards the open door. "We would be delighted to hear more about the progress of your little experiment–at a later date, of course, seeing as we're already quite late." He threw out a quick goodbye and hurried to shut the doors after he had ushered Hadrian outside.

"My lord!" A voice called out from the staircase as soon as they had taken a step towards the foyer. They turned to see a second-tier Death Eater marching towards them with a serious look on his face. "There's been whispers of an uprising brewing within the Order. Our sources have informed me that the Daily Prophet has reached out for a comment but only James Potter has spoken to them."

Hadrian stopped in his tracks, pretending not to see the irritated glance Lucius shot him. "What did he say, Peters?"

The other Death Eater nervously averted his gaze. "He kept spewing some silly drivel about the murder of Remus Lupin and how he's sure the Dark Lord has vanished, only to be replaced by some junior Death Eater imposter. He's been pointing his finger at practically all of the younger recruits on our side."

"Hm," Hadrian pursed his lips, "Can you delay the piece for a week?"

"I-" The Death Eater shifted his weight to his other foot, clearly nervous. "O-Of course, my Lord. Are-Are you sure you don't want us to shut it down?"

"No," Hadrian murmured. "If we try to silence him, it'll look like we have something to hide. We simply need to offset his comments with something else before the Prophet runs them in the paper."

"What should we do, my Lord?"

Hadrian paused to think for a moment. "Do you still have that fluff piece on the free clinic?"

"Of course, sir. The article has been polished and set aside for weeks now. Shall I convince the Prophet to publish it before Potter's comments?"

"Yes, let's run that instead. Daphne spent a great deal of time organizing that free clinic in partnership with St. Mungos, and she made sure half our class volunteered at some point all day," He let a secret smile curve at his lips. "Once the people read that glowing opinion piece, anything Potter says afterwards will look like a reaction, one that's petty and resentful. He's already considered to have gone mad by half the population, and this will simply be another nudge in that direction."

"I'll make sure it gets done, my lord," Peters assured him, swiftly turning around on the spot to rush off towards the floo, presumably.

Lucius narrowed his eyes behind the retreating Death Eater's back. "Might I remind you, we're already late, Hadrian." He checked his watch again, "We have the strategy session with the inner circle and the Ministry discussion with our Ministry plants after the meeting with the Germans . There's no time for impromptu conversations with nameless employees."

"What's the problem with the Ministry?" Hadrian glanced at the elder Malfoy curiously as they walked. "Is there something wrong?"

"Severus says we've been running into a little resistance with the attendance at Hogwarts this year," Lucius revealed to him. "Our agents in the Minister's office have tried to convince Fudge to make attendance mandatory, but for some reason he's been resisting implementing such a policy."

"Fudge is resisting?" Hadrian let out a rude snort. "Figures this is the one time he decides to grow a backbone."

"It's become increasingly difficult to control him lately," The man scowled, pushing open the doors to the private floo parlour. "I think he's become resentful of all the changes around him."

Hadrian raised an eyebrow as he stepped inside. "If that's the case, then why don't we just replace him?"

"If he continues to turn down the attendance policy, we might just have to."

"Don't worry, Lucius," Hadrian waved his hand dismissively. "Fudge should come around eventually."

"Alright, but then what about the strategy session?" Lucius challenged. "If this meeting runs late, we'll be forced to reschedule that discussion as well."

"How long is that going to take? What's it even about?"

Lucius sighed, "As you must be aware, the younger Potter has gone into hiding. Now that we know the truth about the prophecy, it seems unlikely our efforts will result in fruition until the boy is dead. Specifically– "

"I have to kill him," Hadrian finished in a flat tone, moving towards the fireplace in the room. "But we already knew that."

"You can't kill him if you don't know where he is," Lucius pointed out. His expression soured significantly when he admitted, "We've tried tracking him down using the Trace, but it seems as though James Potter or even Dumbledore never registered him in the first place, corrupt old coot. Apparently the Chosen One has always been above the law."

"I wonder how much easier my life would've been if I was under the Order's constant protection," Hadrian mused out loud.

"Yes, well, we tried to track Potter's companions, but they were already of age before they disappeared," The other man continued, reaching for a pinch of floo powder as though Hadrian hadn't spoken. "Even their parents don't know where they are."

"We'll simply have to draw him out of hiding," Hadrian shrugged. "He's the Chosen One, after all. Let's see how long he lets the rest of the world suffer before his hero complex kicks in and he finally shows his face."

Hermione Granger almost tripped over as the whirl of apparition deposited her rather unsteadily on the unkept lawn outside a quaint looking house. At her side, she noticed Daphne gracefully land on her feet, without so much as a stumble–even in her thin-heeled boots.

Hermione decided there had to be some sort of charm on her shoes as she enviously watched her best friend walk across the grass without her heels sinking down into the dirt. Daphne was dressed in fitted robes of black similar to her own, but unlike her, the blonde witch still managed to carry an air of elegance around her even under the heavy glamor charm they both wore.

"Are you coming?" Daphne hissed from behind a nearby bush, stealthily creeping around the house like a cat burglar. Her eyes darted around in clear paranoia, "We don't have much time."

Hermione jogged over to her friend and bit her lip, trying to not laugh at Daphne's overly cautious behavior. "Why are you whispering?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's the dead of night, nobody can hear us."

"Sorry," The blonde flushed, averting her stormy blue gaze. "It's just–well, I haven't been on such an important mission since last year at the Department of Mysteries," She tucked a lock of golden hair behind her hair and admitted, "Hadrian even insisted I stay behind in the Room of Requirement when the Death Eaters invaded the castle at the end of the term. It's been a while since I've gotten my hands dirty, so to speak."

"Too busy organizing luncheons and charity fundraisers with the other socialites, Lady Greengrass?" Hermione stifled a laugh. "Don't worry, I know you're more than capable of doing some grunt work with the rest of us peasants."

"Very funny," Daphne said dryly, turning around to peer through the windowsill they had stopped in front of. She took a step back and gestured to the window, "That's definitely her, but how do we get in? Should we blast the window open? What if they have wards?"

"Daphne, they're muggles," Hermione snickered. "Muggles don't have wards." She moved forward to peek into the room herself. Her eyes widened when she noticed the small blinking box attached to the inside of the window. "They do, however, have security systems," She murmured.

"What does that mean?"

"It means don't touch anything," Hermione pulled her back from the window. "You might set off an alarm."

"Well, how else are we supposed to get inside?" The blonde wondered aloud. "Can we apparate directly inside the house now that we know where she is?"

"That could work," Hermione furrowed her brows, "The only problem is that I'm not sure how we would avoid touching the floor if it's a motion-sensing alarm."

Daphne pursed her lips, thinking about it for a short moment before her eyes lit up. "Just apparate into the room," She insisted, "I have an idea."

Hermione stared at her curiously but nodded, preparing to do as she asked. She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling the rush of apparition twist at her stomach. In a fraction of a second, she found herself in the house and she nearly flinched when a tingle of magic different from her own slam into her, preventing her from falling face down into the plush carpet. She let out a relieved breath, meeting Daphne's amused gaze outside the window as she wandlessly managed to levitate her over the floor of the room.

"Get the girl," Daphne mouthed from the other side of the glass.

Hermione nodded and turned towards the small crib in the center of the room. She wasted no time as she carefully picked up the sleeping baby and cradled her into her arms. She concentrated briefly again and apparated back outside with a soft pop!

"She's so small," Daphne stared at the baby girl in slight awe. She gently took the bundle in her arms and peered down at the pink-cheeked newborn, "We should probably leave before she wakes up."

"Let's go," Hermione agreed, holding out her arm for Daphne to grab. She apparated them to the front steps of a small building, barely faltering as she marched over to the door and knocked sharply. She heard Daphne follow behind her just as an elderly woman pulled the door open.

"Who is that?" Daphne stepped back, holding the baby girl closer to her chest as her suspicious gaze fell over the other woman.

"I hired some temporary help," Hermione shrugged. "Well, 'hired' is a stretch considering I imperiused her, but same idea. She ran a muggle nursery, so don't worry, she's good with children," She turned to smiled at the elderly woman, "Right, Roberta?"

The woman simply gave her a blank stare in return.

"Anyways," The curly-haired witch drew out the word, "Give her the baby, Daphne. She'll watch over her for the time being."

"How do we know she'll take good care of her?" Daphne frowned, reluctant to give up the child. "She's just a muggle–an imperiused one at that."

"Don't worry, I've already made all the arrangements," Hermione insisted. She plucked the little girl out of Daphne's arms and handed her over to the muggle woman. Then, she gestured to the embossed metal plaque on the wall and smirked, "It's better this way, trust me. Phase one of our plan is officially complete."

Daphne watched the older woman walk back inside and close the door behind her. Her friend took this as a cue to hop back down the steps to leave, and Daphne eventuallu followed behind her, glancing back to read the gold plaque on the wall one last time: The Muggleborn Integration Project.

Diagon Alley [August 5th]

Neville Longbottom adjusted the stiff collar of his dress robes before he made his way to the pretty witch standing by the podium in the corner of the room.

She glanced up at him as he approached, shyly tucking back a lock of dark hair before she greeted him. "Hello," She flashed him a sunny smile, "How can I help you this evening?"

"I'd like a table for two, please," Neville responded in a bored tone, letting his gaze drift over to the main part of the restaurant. He had known this was a ridiculously posh establishment the second he stepped through the doors, but seeing the opulent crystal chandeliers and the luxurious white tablecloths only cemented the fact. There was even a string quartet in the corner, for Merlin's sake. If he didn't know better, he could've easily mistaken the setup as one of the Malfoy balls in its grandeur and keen eye to detail. With the charming little fountain in the center of the room and the flowers that were strategically placed all around them, it looked like a disgustingly romantic scene straight out of a fairytale.

It made him sick to his stomach.

"Are you expecting someone else to join you soon?" The witch batted her lashes, pulling him out of the rather melancholic turn his thoughts had taken. She innocently toyed with the end of her quill as she wrote something down on a slip of parchment, "A girlfriend, perhaps?"

Neville snorted. "Something like that," He muttered, tearing his gaze away as the floo roared to life behind him. He resisted the urge to groan as his friend stepped out of the fireplace in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit.

In the summer.

The Italian man further proceeded to waste Neville's time by painstakingly checking every inch of his impeccable robes to ensure no soot had clung to the expensive fabric. When he finally finished his inspection, he walked over and clapped a hand on Neville's back, shooting him an apologetic grin, "Sorry I'm late." Blaise made a show of pretending to fix his unruffled hair, and then paused to smile at the witch standing across from them. "I like to take my time–in everything I do."

The witch blushed at his insinuation, and Neville rolled his eyes, idly wondering if someone could pass out from that much blood flow to their face.

"I had a feeling you'd be late," He grumbled. His voice came out sounding sharper than he intended when he inquired, "The table, Miss?"

"O-Of course," The witch stammered slightly. She straightened her shoulders and shook her head, as if to shake away her thoughts. "I apologize, but usually we need a reservation months in advance for a table and–"

"Surely you must have something available," Blaise interrupted her. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he reached over to pick up her hand, softly brushing his lips over her knuckles before discreetly overturning her hand and slipping a handful of galleons into her palm.

Her eyes widened as she saw the small fortune casually within her grasp. She bit her lip, "I-I suppose I could arrange for another table." She glanced over her shoulder quickly and gestured for them to follow her, "Right this way, please."

"Works like a charm, every single time," Blaise whispered to him as they walked behind the hostess witch.

"Well, you did give her the equivalent of a down payment on a new racing broom, when she probably would've caved if you tried a line on her again." Neville pointed out. "I'm not sure if anyone would turn that obscene amount down."

"Guess this means you're paying for dinner then," Blaise shrugged, entirely unphased as they reached the table the witch had led them to. He was about to pull out one of the plush chairs when Neville shook his head.

"I don't like this table," he said. He raised his gaze to survey the large restaurant, and then jerked his head towards a table near the back corner of the room, partially hidden by a wall of flowers. "We'd like that one."

"Of course, sir," The witch simply nodded at him, apparently used to her rich patrons frequently demanding to switch tables. She led them over to their new table and waited until they had taken a seat before informing them that their server would be there shortly.

Blaise frowned at his friend's odd behavior, but decided to ignore it for the time being as he caught sight of another waitress walking towards them only a few seconds later. She approached their table with a bright smile, "Hello, my name is–"

"That's nice," Neville cut her off, glancing over to the side. "Would you mind standing over there?"

"I-" The witch pressed her lips into a thin line, but eventually moved to stand at the corner of their table where he had gestured to. "Is this alright, Sir?"

"Perfect," Neville commented distractedly.

"Right, then," Blaise drawled, eyeing his friend with confusion. He cleared his throat, "Could we see the wine list?"

As Blaise conversed with their waitress, he couldn't help but notice Neville had completely turned his attention away from them to gaze at something in the distance. Even when the witch asked his friend several times what he'd like to drink, the man remained unresponsive.

Blaise sighed, ordering a bottle of red for them before the waitress flounced away in a huff. He subtly tried to follow Neville's gaze as he stared–unblinkingly–across the room, but it was too difficult to see what exactly had caught his friend's attention from his current seated position.

Blaise abruptly rose from the table and tossed his napkin onto his chair. "I have to go to the loo," He excused himself, though it hardly made a difference when Neville waved him away without even bothering to glance at him.

There was definitely something suspicious going on here, Blaise decided as he began to walk through the restaurant, careful to not draw too much attention to himself. He noticed the washrooms in the back corner and moved past them with no intention of stepping inside. Instead, he hid behind a tall column that he knew fell in Neville's line of sight from the other side of the room. He peeked his head around the marble pillar, easily spotting a glimmer of blonde hair by the fountain.

Blaise narrowed his eyes at the couple smiling at each other across their table. He couldn't believe it!

He abruptly turned around on the spot and marched back to his friend, trying his best to conceal his grimace. The waitress had surprisingly returned to their table with their bottle of wine, and Blaise waited patiently to sit down while she finished pouring. As soon as she had left, however, he sat down and took a large sip from his glass.

"This is a new low," Blaise set his wine glass back onto the table as Neville finally turned to look at him. "I thought when you said we were going out tonight, it meant we were going to get drunk of our arses and flirt with some fit witches." Blaise gritted out, "Then you wanted to meet at this five-star place for dinner, and I said fine–I'm a sophisticate at heart–I can appreciate the occasional coq au vin." He leaned forward and snapped, "I didn't know you wanted to come here for the sole purpose of spying on your ex-girlfriend while she's out with a new wizard!"

"Don't be ridiculous, we're not spying on them," Neville denied automatically. "We're having a nice dinner, and they just happened to be here."

"They're obviously here on a date," Blaise hissed "One they had to plan months in advance to even get this table–you heard the witch earlier." He slouched in his seat and moaned, "I can't believe you dragged me out here to spy on your witch–who also happens to be one of my best friends!"

"Oh, you can save your self-righteousness for the Gryffindors," Neville scoffed. "You're the one who's purposely playing hard to get, even after Ginevra Weasley decided she wanted you again."

"She probably wouldn't want me now, considering it looks like we're also on a date," Blaise shot back. He sunk lower in his seat and pouted, "I can't believe I'm missing the grand opening party for the new wizarding nightclub in Brighton for this."

"Sshh," Neville shushed him and hurried to use his menu to cover his face. He pretended to read it intently, as though all the secrets of the universe were written in the looping cursive font. "Shite, I think she's looking this way–hide!"

Blaise proceeded to do no such thing, and he simply waved back with an awkward smile when he saw Destiny squint over at their table. He was too far away to hear exactly what she had said to her companion, but he watched her excuse herself a few moments later and walk into the washroom.

"Uh, I think she's seen us, mate," He informed his friend.

"No," Neville corrected him with a scowl, "She's seen you because you decided to just sit there like the giant squid! How can you call yourself a Slytherin if you can't even be stealthy enough to hide from a teenage witch!"

"I'm in Slytherin, the house of cunning and ambition. Not 'Stalker', the house of psychos and desperate ex-boyfriends," Blaise rolled his eyes, already bored with the conversation.

"I hope your attempt at humor manages to charm the Weasley chit, because it certainly isn't working on me."

"Merlin, aren't you tired of this, Neville?" Blaise raised an eyebrow, unwilling to rise to the bait. "You've been dancing around each other all summer. I don't understand it. You broke up with Destiny, and now you want to stalk her date. Why don't you just–I don't know–talk to her?"

"I'm not stalking her," Neville insisted, leaning back in his seat with a petulant frown. "We may have broken up, but we're still friends, you know. I'm just making sure Pucey doesn't try anything funny."

"I don't see you following Hermione around on her dates," Blaise smirked.

Neville folded his arms across his chest. "I don't think arguing with Draco, and then snogging on any available surface in the Malfoy library counts as a date."

Blaise pursed his lips before deciding, "That's fair. Regardless," He took another large sip of his wine and gestured to the back of the room. "Destiny went to the washroom if you want to go talk to her–without Pucey hanging around."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Neville glanced towards the washroom with a longing look in his eyes. "What if she doesn't want to see me?"

"Considering you followed her on her date to a very romantic restaurant, I'd say she definitely doesn't want to see you," Blaise shrugged. He ignored the scathing look his friend shot him and continued, "Still, this could be your one chance to talk to her before Pucey bores her to death with stories of interning at the MLE," He noticed Neville hesitate slightly, and he hid his smile behind his glass, "Or maybe she's into that, and he manages to charm her into becoming Mrs. Law Shark."

Neville stood up from his seat suddenly, his eyes hardening at the mere insinuation that Destiny would even consider allowing that pureblood ponce to court her further. He almost crashed into the waitress when she returned to their table, and he muttered a stiff apology before setting out to the washrooms in the back of the room.

He was a little reluctant to enter the washroom designated for witches, but he swallowed his resolve and pushed open the door, marching inside without a second thought. Thankfully there was no one else in the room, save for one particular witch leaning over the sink in a flowy white dress.

She somehow met his eyes in the mirror before he even moved to stand behind her. If possible, the scowl etched into her pretty features seemed to deepen. Her jaw was tense as she dabbed a wrinkled tissue underneath her eyes and asked, "What are you doing here, Neville?"

"I-" He felt his words evaporate as he saw the watery look in her eyes. "Are you crying?"

"No," She answered immediately. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and rephrased her question, "Did you follow me here?"

"No," He echoed back. "But I think at least one of us is lying."

"Seriously, why are you here, Neville?" She sighed, tossing her tissue into the rubbish bin beside the sink. "I'm not in the mood for your games. I see you at the Manor every day –did you really have to come here to crash my date too?"

"So, it was a date!"

"Of course, it was a date, you idiot!" Destiny snapped. She shook her head, forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath. Her eyes were steely when she whispered, "If you can't tell me why you followed me here, then you're wasting my time. I need to get back to my date."

"Destiny, I–" He began, only to be interrupted as the door to the washroom swung open and an elderly woman stepped inside.

"Young man, this is a ladies toilet!" She shrieked, looking quite aghast at his mere presence. She angrily shook her beaded handbag at him, "I demand you leave at once–or–or I'll call security!"

Destiny made to leave, but Neville quickly wrapped a hand around her wrist, causing her to freeze in place. He could still hear the older woman shouting and causing a scene, and it drove him to panic. He wasn't afraid of any security, but he knew that if the woman got him thrown out, Destiny would most certainly rejoin Pucey at their table.

He couldn't have that.

He didn't have much time to think or ponder the consequences of his actions as he instinctively pulled Destiny against his chest and apparated away. Considering it was his first real attempt at apparition and side-along apparition after he had turned seventeen, Neville thought he did a pretty great job of not getting either of them splinched.

He glanced down at Destiny, eager to voice his excitement–only to be met by her fist, smashing into his face.

He let go of her abruptly to cradle his nose. "Ow," He groaned, "What the fuck, Destiny?"

The blonde winced slightly, shaking the pain from her hand before turning to face him with an icy stare. "This could count as kidnapping, you know," Destiny informed him curtly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You broke my nose!"

"It's not broken," She sounded almost bored as she studied her nails to ensure her perfect manicure hadn't chipped. "You might want to ice it for a day or two, though."

"Well, I'm glad you got that out of your system," Neville barked.

A slow smile curved at her lips. "There's so much more I'd like to get out of my system." She murmured, moving past him to lean against the balcony he had apparated them to. She kept her back towards him as she admitted, "Unfortunately, I doubt you would survive it all."

"I understand you're upset– "

"Oh, what gave you that idea?" Destiny bit back. "Is it not perfectly normal for an ex-boyfriend to spy on your date? Even after he decided to end their relationship?" She forced out a bitter laugh, "Honestly, the only thing that would've been worse is if he recruited a friend to come join him on his little investigation." Her fingers curled around the stone railing of the balcony, "Oh, wait."

"You saw Blaise," Neville's shoulders sagged in resignation. "I fucking told him to hide."

"I actually saw him before that," Destiny smirked. "He was snooping around right beside us with all the subtlety of a hippogriff. Not to mention–" She rolled her eyes, "You didn't even try to disguise yourselves, for Merlin's sake. You practically wanted me to see you."

"And what if I did?" Neville countered, stepping closer to her.

"Well, I don't want to see you," She raised her chin at him in defiance.

"But I needed to see you."

She whirled around to face him with a sneer, yet all Neville could focus on was the way a delightful red flush crept up her skin when her temper finally snapped. Little wisps of her blonde hair had escaped from her pretty hairstyle, and they framed her face delicately as they curled around her ear and just barely brushed over her cheekbone.

Even now, when she couldn't stand the sight of him–she was a vision.

"You had no right," Destiny seethed as she poked an accusing finger into his chest, forcing him to stumble back in surprise. She stalked towards him looking the very picture of an angry lioness with her sinewy golden legs and unadulterated rage flashing in her bright eyes.

"You're the one who broke up with me –twice, if I recall correctly," She was hissing at him, "You're the one who turned your back on me. And I don't just mean that metaphorically–I literally saw you change staircases and take the long way to classes for half a year just to avoid me." She narrowed her eyes, "You don't get to change your mind the second you see me with someone else."

"I just–"

"You, what, Neville?" Destiny cut him off, clearly exasperated.

"I crucioed James Potter!"

"That's–" She blinked at him, a little shocked by his rather abrupt change of subject. A flicker of something crossed her face and she sighed, "I know. Hadrian told me months ago," She furrowed her brows, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Though it hadn't been quite what he was going to say, Neville found he couldn't stop the words from tumbling out now that he had started talking. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he whispered, "I couldn't tell you about it. I felt so…ashamed."

"If it makes you feel better, I reckon Potter Senior definitely deserved it if he drove you to cast an unforgiveable," Destiny reassured him softly. "Especially that one."

"No, you don't understand," Neville bit his lip, almost too afraid to admit the truth. "I don't regret cursing Potter. I don't feel guilty about that–at all. I couldn't tell you about it because–" He paused and closed his eyes, as if it would make everything magically easier to say. "I didn't tell you because it felt good to crucio him. I enjoyed it, as awful as that sounds. I couldn't stop. I couldn't control it."

He felt a small hand cover his own, and he opened his eyes in time to see Destiny slowly standing before him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer and allowing her to gently rub small circles into his back as he continued to ramble on.

"I felt so sick using that spell, Destiny," He buried his face into her hair, causing his words to come out sounding a bit muffled. "My parents are probably rolling over in their graves. Merlin, I couldn't even hold it back–I liked having that much power over pathetic Potter. I liked seeing the pain in his eyes. He shouted until his voice was raw and it only spurred me on." His grip tightened on her hips when confessed, "I think the worst part is that I did it out of my own volition. I was just trying to ensure Hadrian didn't confront Potter alone, and then I got carried away. I only wanted to keep us safe."

"Look," Destiny began hesitantly. "You really don't have to justify it to me. You know who I am. I'm–well, Bellatrix she's my–"

"Is it crass to say I get it now?" Neville snorted. "All this time, I've been resenting her–resenting you–for what she did to my parents. I'm not saying I forgive your mother… but I understand her. If someone ever hurt you like that–I–" He swallowed hard and his hands reached out to cup her cheek. His thumb caressed her skin softly, even as his eyes hardened, "I would kill them."

"Neville," She peeked up at him through her lashes and stepped out of his arms with a slow shake of her head. "I love you–but swearing to kill someone for me is really not as sweet of a promise as those toxic romance books lead people to believe."

"Right," He let out a quiet laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets and pulling out a small velvet box. "I was planning on giving this to you last year, but Hadrian convinced me to come to terms with my own feelings before I even thought about approaching you." He smiled, prying open the box to reveal a beautiful ruby ring set in a platinum, diamond-studded band. "And I carried this around like an idiot after I tried to turn my back on you, because I thought about it every single day, Destiny."

Her lower lip trembled, as if she were afraid to believe in his words. "You did?"

Neville nodded, "It was my mother's ring, you know. My grandmother kept it locked in the family vaults, insisting I only retrieve it when I was absolutely sure of the woman I wanted to marry someday." He grabbed her hands and his eyes shone with an odd mix of nervousness and excitement as he spoke, "I didn't realize it then, but I fell in love with you all the way back in first year when you so wisely tried to explain to me what love was. Ever since then, I couldn't imagine giving this ring to anyone but you, Destiny Lestrange."

There was a sharp knock on the door to his study and Hadrian glanced up in surprise. He had specifically set aside some time to finish drafting some more plans, and he was a little disappointed that someone had managed to disrupt his few moments of peace.

He silently debated turning away whoever was at the door, but eventually decided against it. "Come in," He called out, trying to keep the bitter undertone out of his voice. He raised an eyebrow as Severus Snape strolled into the room, dramatic cloak billowing behind him and all.

"Headmaster," Hadrian smiled widely, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What brings you here? I wasn't aware we had an appointment."

"We don't," Snape pressed his lips into a thin line, "I can assure you; this will only take a few moments of your time." He reached into his robes to pull out a small envelope and pushed it across the desk. "Congratulations," he said flatly.

Hadrian picked up the envelope and silently tore it open, allowing two heavy badges to drop onto his desk. His breath caught in his throat, and he glanced up at the greasy-haired professor with a bewildered look in his eyes. "I'm Head Boy?"

"Yes, well, you are at the top of your class–somehow," Snape muttered. "The Hogwarts staff was very keen on this decision."

"But I don't understand," Hadrian blinked, running his fingertips over the silver and green badge. "I wasn't even a prefect."

"Being a prefect is not a prerequisite to be a Head," His Headmaster informed him curtly. "We take a lot of other things into account: academics, reputation, extracurricular activities."

Hadrian glanced at the other badge and frowned, "Why did you also give me the badge for Head Girl?"

Snape let out an exaggerated sigh, "I assumed Miss. Granger would also be here somewhere, probably off reorganizing your library collection," He gestured to the other badge, "Do pass it along to her, when you get the chance. I'd prefer to avoid hearing her undoubtedly annoying shrieks of joy."

"I thought owls delivered the badges," Hadrian pointed out, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I didn't realize I was special enough to warrant an in-person visit."

"If you had a home address that didn't happen to belong to the late Dark Lord, I would have sent the official Hogwarts OWL," Snape rolled his eyes. "As it stands, you succeeded–yet again–at inconveniencing my life."

"Well, this has been quite the pleasant visit," Hadrian leaned back in his chair with a tight smile. "Was there anything else, Severus?"

Snape recognized the clear dismissal and stiffened abruptly. "Yes, actually," He began, "There was something else I came to discuss with you, Riddle."

"Oh?" Hadrian cocked his head to the side. "What could the great Headmaster of Hogwarts have to say to me?"

Snape felt his jaw clench at the syrupy tone. He forced himself to keep his voice neutral as he said, "I've come to convince you to see your mother."

"My mother?" Hadrian repeated, and the corner of his lips quirked up in amusement. "That's an interesting–"

"Yes," Snape cut him off rather precariously. "Lily Potter–your mother–would like to see you again, Harry."