AN: Refer to chapter title. Also, story-wise, this is set around 2010 because that's the where I first set it and it still works, so.

AN: Also, because I mentioned crows last chapter, there are some superstitions about crows mainly: "Seeing a single crow is very unlucky. Two crows mean good luck! Three means health, Four means wealth, Five is sickness and Six mean death!"

So I thought I'd incorporate them in because, in my originals notes, the crows were already included in the story.

It's a mess on how to start.

But—

The Potters were a well off family, have been for years. All thanks to a great-grandfather, or something along those lines, that was in the right place at the right time.

Mostly, it was because said ancestor was minding his own business, walking down the street, passing by a bistro where what looked like a heated argument was taking place, something about boats, locomotives, and stocks, among other things.

Anyway, one of the men grabbed him as he passed by and said he looked like a smart man, one up for a challenge after which he was asked if he was up for a challenge and well, said ancestor agreed because he had nothing better to do and they shook on it then and there and were partners. The rest was history.

Only it just wasn't that.

Harry James Potter was a descendant of that Potter who went ahead and ran with some stranger who propositioned him, and both of them gaining success and a fortune when he did. It also resulted to the eventual move of his ancestors from somewhere in England to the United States of America.

He was indifferent to the fact, if only because, well, he grew up here and not there and that was how his family history went. He couldn't change nor was he sure that he would want to do so if he were ever given the chance to go back in time.

But the point of the matter was not only the Potter who went ahead and ran away with a mad idea, it was also the Gaunt who gave that Potter the chance to run away with the idea in the first place.

Thanks to that spontaneous offer of that old Gaunt and the equally spontaneous acceptance of the old Potter, both families, even decades later, were well off. Theirs was not only a partnership that was pure business, soon enough both families were close. Though despite the closeness of both families, they have never directly married into the other family.

That, the easy camaraderie between the families, the wealth, and social standing were the constants in both families.

The relevance of such family alliance that has lasted for generations?

Well, the family alliance was the reason why Tom lived with them now, instead of any other 'well-meaning' relative.

They were related as well, through his dad and both of Tom's parents. It was a bit complicated, in that his dad was related to both of Tom's parents but Tom's parents were not related to each other. From what he understands, on his, ah, aunt for brevity's sake; his aunt was the Gaunt in the relationship and his uncle, again for brevity's sake, was the Riddle.

They're both dead, as much as it seems insensitive to be blunt but it has been years. Point is, while his uncle was an only child; his father, Tom's paternal grandfather, was not; and Harry's not entirely sure how many siblings that man has but he knows that aside from Tom's father they all really never leave England.

Add the fact that his aunt has an older brother who may or may not be disowned due to reasons the adults have never really disclosed to them, only that it left his aunt as the one to inherit everything instead of the older brother who was still very much alive and lives in a very dubious life and keeps company that were twice as dubious (impulsiveness never did stop being a family trait for the Gaunts, only that Tom's uncle took this impulsiveness to a wrong direction).

And, well, yes, well, there would have been a horrible custody battle because they left Tom everything.

And Harry meant everything. And sure it was not as vast as, say the Black's fortune but it was nothing to sneeze at. And people are greedy even when they're family and Tom never really knew that side of the family, for obvious reasons with his maternal uncle and indifference on his paternal side.

It would have taken years to resolve and definitely not something he'd want his cousin to experience, his status of being the younger cousin be damned.

Except.

Except his aunt and uncle were no fools, as much as people thought his aunt foolish. Well, she was in some ways foolish but never a fool.

The point is they used every trick they knew so that Tom ended in his family's care.

The point was there was a lot of things about their families they don't know and would rather not talk about.

The point is sometimes the reasons were irrelevant, only that he was glad of the outcome. That his cousin, who's title of cousin is a bit complicated as mentioned earlier, was with them. That he grew up with Harry.

So, even with all the compilations and difficulties that have come and will come into their lives, he's thankful for that old Gaunt who was too proud and the old Potter who had nothing better to do.

Because, as sappy as it was and maybe Tom would laugh in his face if he ever knew, Tom was family and he's part of the family and Harry? He loves his family.

Mad cousin included.

Though there were some days he cursed said cousin, though.

"Wake up."

It's a feeling Harry usually feels whenever the other was being unreasonable, in his opinion. Tom would like to beg to differ but he's asleep at the moment and Harry is probably a step away from grabbing a basin his mom hides under the bathroom cupboard, filling it with water and dump it all over said sleeping cousin.

"Tom. Wake up"

The one who told Harry that he needs to be awake by five in the morning. It's already around four-thirty something when he was unwillingly dragged back to the waking world. Harry has this talent see, totally weird and he's still on the fence it's completely useless or not. But the thing was, sometimes when somebody (and usually it was his family because they were really the only ones that knew) mentions they have to be awake at a certain time, usually when it was early in the morning, Harry, for some reason, will wake an hour exactly before the time mentioned. No one knows why? He's not sure if he wants an explanation. It's just something, a talent he guesses, he could do since he was a child.

"I cannot. -huff- Tom."

The downside to was, waking up that way tends to leave Harry in a horrible mood for a couple of hours and repeated offense of using Harry this way had consequences. His father knows firsthand when he had Harry wake him up for a week straight at four in the morning when Harry was just six or seven years old.

Six or seven year old Harry was so fed up with waking up at four in the morning for six days straight that in his cranky little six or seven year old mind (inevitably dragging an equally irritated nine year old Tom because Harry had no grace left after waking up irritated over and over again and they were bunking together at the time) it was a perfectly reasonable response to jump on his parents' bed land feet first on his father's stomach.

James had yowled like a cat that had its tail stepped on.

Lily was unsympathetic, for obvious reasons. His father couldn't get angry, though, not in the face of his irate son with cheeks puffed out in irritation (his Uncle Sirius had wanted to try as well but was discouraged by three sharp looks sent in his direction). But he never tried having Harry wake him up for more than two days in a row. In fact, almost no one tries to push for more than that.

But today was the third day Tom's asked Harry to wake him up (but which he wouldn't mind because Tom makes sure that Harry gets compensated, be it extra lunch or a solid alibi whenever he's avoiding someone because Harry felt like it and also because, again, usually it wasn't that hard to wake Tom up), and it wouldn't be too bad if Harry could fall asleep at times like this. But he can't. Which is a shame but he loves his family, though. And Tom's part of his, so that applies him as well (usually).

It still didn't curb the urge to pour freezing water over his slumbering cousin. It didn't help, for all that Tom tried to be the perfect role model other students could look up to and, well, Tom was a lot of things but a morning person. Not really.

Someone wants Tom to be bright and cheery by six a.m.? Good luck, they'll need it. Someone would have better luck convincing the Headmaster at their school to cancel classes for the week. And that has actually happened (hint: it wasn't either of them that convinced their Headmaster, though originally it was that came up in a conversation during lunch time).

'Though come to think of it,' nose scrunching just a bit, Harry still stuck deciding how to wake up his cousin because shaking him awake was completely ineffective, 'Tom isn't a bright and cheery person at all. Seemingly polite and reserved, yes. Bright and cheery, though...'

It was something he had yet to witness.

Shuddering at the thought even, Harry wasn't sure it was something he'd want to be around to witness.

The weight of a stare on his back was what slowly coaxed him out of sleep.

At first, he had no idea what woke him. He was surrounded by warmth and his head was cushioned by something really soft, which was normal because that was how he preferred it (and loathe it as he might, he does tend to steal an additional blanket and three pillows from the cupboard where his aunt keeps them). Now usually, alertness was something that only came to him after he was almost finished with his second cup of coffee (as was his normal ever since Lily finally stopped tutting whenever they tried making a move towards the coffee machine), so being forced into such a state where he needs to be alert immediately left him, well, not disoriented but definitely irate.

Though that is to say he didn't necessarily freeze. Well, perhaps he did but the way he had tensed was not too obvious.

He was apprehensive.

Understandable, seeing as he feels another presence in his room. And the implications of such were, well, disturbing.

The news has been raging about a serial home invader on the loose, one that had killed someone at the most recent house they've been looting. From what he could remember, the man was nowhere near their neighborhood. Though given that the last news he had heard about said robber was the development of there now being a charge of murder in his, admittedly, unknown name.

A murder that was reported to be very grisly.

Forcing his body to go lax and trying to keep his breathing still that steady deep rhythm one falls into when unconscious and still dreaming, he slowly shifted from laying on his side to flat on his back. Not that it would really help, but if gets stabbed, he'd rather not be stabbed on the back.

He was in an internal impasse. Aside from the burning stare, there was nothing. No movement, aside from the subtle one he was trying to make to imitate someone sleeping. No sounds, aside from the calm leveled breaths that came from both of them.

After uncountable minutes because he has eyes shut (not too tight like he was trying) that felt like hours but could be minutes or even seconds, (who knows? Not him definitely) he finally resolved to take a peek and opened his eyes, just a bit and looked from under his lashes.

Harry saw Tom shift to his back and he's not really a good of an actor (technically? He doesn't do it professionally or even at school. But he knows how to play a part because of the issue with their family business and stuff. Harry can hold his own too not as great as Tom, but he has an easier time improvising on the spot) when he just woke up, emotions tended to flit easier on his face when he just woke up. He could see Tom deciding on how to act.

And he stopped snoring and Tom might deny the fact that he snores but he does, it was quiet, and dare he say it, cute but definitely there.

His dead-eyed stare didn't stray from his cousin when he came to the decision to open his eyes, there was dread lining his features. What for Harry wasn't entirely sure. But as his cousin opened his eyes in an agonizingly slow manner, Harry came to the decision to just let gravity take its course and crush his cousin.

"James?" The sleepy voice of his wife next to ear woke him up.

"M'yeah?" was his barely there answer as he shifted in bed, eyes still heavy and refusing to let go of the pillow he was hugging (he had a bad habit of stealing Lily's pillow but she always steals it back just before it's time to wake up). And he couldn't be blamed, their bed was just so comfortable. There was not a lot James would splurge on, or Lily for that matter (she has the better eye for great deals and bargains when it comes to shopping), but spending extra on their bed was something he insisted. And once Harry was born it was a good thing Lily caved, because it was their best friend those first months (Sirius is still kind of jealous of the bed, to be honest).

"Did you hear something?" Lily was sitting up, squinting in the dark of their bedroom.

"You?"

At that, her worried expression melted into an annoyed one and he shot him a dirty look he didn't see as his back was to her and he pulled the pillow over his head.

"I think it was the boys," she insisted and shook him, even as he curled further to ignore her (bad move!) and sleep, "I mean it, James, we need to go check on the boys!"

"Mrrmhm, they're fine Lils." He rubbed his cheek on his pillow, securing the one over his head with his free hand and almost tipped over to sleep.

"James," But Lily was insistent.

'And' as his brow furrowed, eyes still closed for want of sleep, the beginning of dread flirting with the edge of his mind, 'is that annoyance I hear? It can't be.' Though he had to admit the rocking, while annoying at first was helping him go back to sleep. What with it being so rhythmic.

There was just something, in his sleep clouded brain (and sometimes even when he was wide awake), that he forgot. When Lily speaks, listen. When she asks for something, do.

And he usually follows, he would follow.

But sleep is tantamount.

Which is why he didn't see Lily, who was now wide awake and if she could, she would have steam coming out of her ears in irritation.

"James, the boys could be in danger!" She tried to keep her voice down and all she got in reply was an incoherent mumble and a snore.

"James Potter!" Lily called sternly, still trying to keep her voice low but wanting to wake her spouse, she was kneeling now on their bed, hands firmly planted on her hips, "There is a serial home invader on the loose! One that has killed. We need to check on our boys."

"M'yeah, sure." He replied with a snore, the pillow that was over his head safely in his arms again as he shifted to his other side, facing Lily this time.

"James." Nothing and her eyes narrowed.

"James." Still nothing, a vein throbbed somewhere on her temple.

"James!" More sharply and still nothing.

She, slowly, let out an exhale, relaxing before a determined expression stole across her beautiful features. Shifting on her knees a bit to get comfortable she gave a warning, "James, I told you."

And she shoved.

Tom stopped where he was repeatedly pelting Harry with one of his numerous pillows when the piercing yowl invaded the air. From where Harry was sitting (on top of Tom again after his initial drop since the older boy did not take kindly to being squished and immediately whacked him with a pillow after promising with just a look to Harry), he paused as well.

They shared a look and came to the conclusion that it was just James being shoved off the bed by Lily.

It would not be the first time that it has happened. As much as Harry's parents were completely enamored with each other, there were times they still got on each other's nerves. Usually, they can talk it out like mature people but sometimes it's easier to just start shoving.

Of course, Tom, being the opportunist that he was, nailed Harry on the head again while he was lost to his thoughts. The force of the hit coupled with Harry's distracted state had Harry yelping as he toppled over to the floor, leaving the older boy smug as he peeked over the edge of his bed.

Harry, from his uncomfortable flop on the floor, glared at Tom, trying to intimidate the other. It didn't work and while Tom may not be childish enough to stick out his tongue at Harry like a child, he didn't need to because it was clear as day on his face. That he kept buffing his nails on his pajama top might have also helped.

That was when James and Lily, after donning on their robes, quietly burst into Tom's bedroom, James brandishing the paperweight shaped as a flashlight (it was gift from Sirius) that was usually on their nightstand threateningly and Lily raised the toy lightsaber James actually uses as a flashlight when he needs to use the bathroom (though really he uses it for the bi-monthly lightsaber fight he has with Sirius).

"Boys," Lily gasped out, rushing forward in relief and thoughtlessly threw the toy lightsaber over her shoulder, she heard James yelp behind her (he dove for the lightsaber, some tears of panic were shed), "You're safe!"

She engulfed both boys in the tight hug (Harry had sat up shortly after they burst in, and used Tom's bed to help him steady and pulled himself on the bed), she kept whispering words of thanks and over her shoulder both boys saw James falling back to sleep from where he cradled the toy lightsaber in his arms.

The two boys just shared a look over Lily's shoulders, sighed and in unison, patted her in comfort.

After the commotion that morning, which no one really talked about because a serial home invader or not, it was a common enough occurrence in the Potter residence that it was pointless to get embarrassed by it.

(And honestly, they should know better than to think that their home would be easily, er, invaded by a home invader.)

They did have a bit of a problem leaving Tom's room since James was in the way of the only sensible exit of Tom's rooms (the windows were always an option, of course, just one Lily does not approve of). Lily had tried waking James up again, nudging him with her foot again and again but probably short of kicking him, it didn't work. The man was out cold.

Eventually, Harry got sick of waiting for his dad to wake up and elbowed Tom before he bent down and grabbed hold of one of James' leg. Tom got the idea and grabbed the other leg and dragged the older man away from the door.

Lily wasn't happy but didn't make any disapproving sounds, instead, she just turned and left with the promise of breakfast being ready in a few minutes.

They boys nodded and with one last look at Tom, Harry went back to his room to get ready for the day, and first dibs on the bathroom.

Left alone with his slumbering uncle, Tom gave one look at the man before getting in an internal debate on whether or not he should give up a pillow and a blanket for the man to use. All of the bedrooms in the Potter house were carpeted and his aunt was vigilant in making sure they were clean and safe lie on (a bit of a leftover habit from when Harry was just a baby that liked soft flooring and napping on it, especially ones that were situated in front of a window with sunlight filtering through it), still it wasn't the best place to sleep on.

He was saved from sacrificing one of his pillows when his aunt popped back in and dropped a pillow and blanket over his uncle and left again with the reminder of breakfast in thirty minutes. He was thankful for the intervention (he'd rather not give up any of his pillows).

Eventually, after Harry finally stopped hogging the shower (and after shooting a look at James for somehow getting the pillow under his head and the blanket covering his body), Tom made his way downstairs for breakfast, hiding a yawn and more awake than he usually was in the morning.

His regular mornings require him having at least two cups of coffee to be coherent.

Ruffling Harry's hair as he passed by, he was ignored in favor of staring blankly at the table. He passed the table entirely and left his cousin slumping on the table and went ahead and helped Lily carry the plates of food to the dining room table.

Tom sat and began filling his plate like a normal person, it took Harry a minute or so before brightening up at the sight of food and do the same.

When Lily saw that James had yet to still appear, she let out an annoyed sigh but made no move to collect her husband upstairs, and instead chose to enjoy breakfast.

Halfway through breakfast Harry felt sociable enough to be chatty and dragged Tom into some inane conversation, Lily only interjecting here and there. No one mentioned that they were eating a bit earlier than usual. (Or that James was merrily sleeping on the floor.)

Then, Tom's cell rang completely ruining the rather cozy family atmosphere. Wiping his mouth with a tissue as he fished the phone out of his pocket, completely annoyed, mind. He immediately, if with great annoyance and reluctance, answered the call after checking the caller ID.

Of course, he sounds completely charming by the first word.

Harry rolled his eyes and shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth when he saw Tom gearing up to do 'The Perfect Pretty-Boy Act That Has the School Worship Him' as his godfather would say or 'Tom Fooling The World' as his dad would counter (and he's honestly more partial to that one because it's shorter and truer). He turns to his mom so he can have some decent conversation. And also give Tom a reason to excuse himself completely from the table because as per his mom's rule, no talking on the phone in front of the food.

He's telling his mom about his plans with his friends that weekend, he was interrupted by the sound of Tom cursing up of a storm.

Of course, he shares a look with his mom, Tom's the type of person that wouldn't cry or curse when he stubs his toe in the dark at night. Such things are trivial for him.

Tom's annoyed form stalked back into the dining room and sat heavily on his chair.

For Tom to be cursing up and down is, well, in all honesty, it wasn't all that concerning since he does it often enough, though maybe just not where the object of his ire could readily hear it. That he's cursing at the person at the other end of the phone, on the other hand, does get them to raise their eyebrows a bit because the only other time Tom curses explicitly at someone is if they've messed things up. Tom hasn't even bothered to cover his phone while he's busy calling the person at the other end the vilest things.

And for him to also do so in front of the food means he's seriously pissed at the person, and mostly likely the situation at large.

With a final snap at the person, he ended the call and traded the cell for another cup of coffee and muttered into the mug. Far too fast and low for either Potter to understand.

"Soooo," Harry didn't care if it was obvious that he was fishing, with the flattest look and driest tone he could muster, he asked, "what was that all about?"

His mom was curious as well but opted to just take a sip of her glass of orange juice from her side of the table (she'll think of an appropriate punishment for Tom for cursing up a storm in front of her later). Tom was thankfully indulgent, or better too irritated to go with the pretense that he was perfectly fine with everything in the world.

"It was Malfoy." Harry almost raised his eyebrows at that and smiled that was almost all teeth. 'Oooh, distaste and disappointment.'

Abraxas Malfoy was Tom's oldest friend. And Harry knows him personally as well because of that connection. And he knows, as certain that the sun won't explode yet for a number of centuries to come, that Abraxas was efficient and almost as meticulous as Tom. And Tom may deny it but he's fond of Abraxas, so on the off chance that the blond does make a mistake, a big one even, Tom would never curse at him. The most he'd probably get is a disappointed look and some stern words.

Now, Draco Malfoy on the other hand… Well, he was not Tom's least favorite person. But he's most certainly not his favorite. The boy was too nervous around his cousin, hence mistakes and additional work for Tom. He flounders whenever Tom's in the vicinity and has probably gotten on Tom's nerves enough that the camel's back finally broke and the curses came pouring out.

"What did he do?" Harry asked, still teeth bared.

"Delayed." Harry sent him a look, one that was just colored with disbelief and the slightest bit of exasperation. "He's—" Tom sighed, slowly dragging the out of his lung, took a deep breath and put down his cup, the coffee sloshing and spilling some drops on the table.

"He made a mistake regarding the time." Tom stabbed the eggs his mom made before elegantly raising it to his mouth like he wasn't transferring all his murderous energy into it earlier.

"Oh?" He did not like the sound of that. And something must have shown on his face because Tom sighed again.

"Yes," Was that a hiss? Eh, who was Harry kidding? That was definitely a hiss. "The event does not start until eleven."

A beat of silence. Lily has left the table and made her way to the kitchen

"In the morning?" Harry asked, mirroring his cousin, expression darkening just a bit.

"Yes."

"That means—"

"I know."

"It was supposed to be at eight—"

"I know."

"That means extra—"

"I know."

"Sleep—"

"Yes."

Harry pursed his lips, bowing his head and looked back down on his plate, for gripped tightly in hand. Slowly Harry raised his head and met Tom's gaze, "I'm going to kill him."

"Get in line and wait a couple of years," Tom pushed his empty plate away and leaned back in his chair, "We need to plan everything perfectly so we won't be suspects."

Tom could be joking, it was hard to tell with him, but he nodded along nonetheless.

"Boys," his mom called from the kitchen, he could hear her loading up the dishwasher, "no plotting murder on the table."

"Fine." They chorused together but sharing a dry look that promised things.

Then, after a moment, she added almost as an afterthought, "In fact, no plotting of any kind whatsover, okay?"

It was hours later after his mom finally kicked his father out of Tom's room and after the two of them roped his dad into a bit of scheming while he nursed his bruised ego and ate breakfast that Tom finally left the house to help prepare for the exhibit. He had volunteered. Or rather he was volunteered by one of their more enthusiastic teachers, he kind of made Harry uncomfortable because he was so pushy.

Tom dragged Harry with him, it was— Well, the reason he had Harry wake him up early was he needed to be there an hour early to make sure everything was perfect and that go over the programme as a precaution. Unfortunately, things happened. Before the clock struck eight-thirty he convinced Harry to accompany him, it was only a museum and Harry did so like history.

"—you don't even need to help usher anyone. Unless, of course, something's happened and either Abraxas or I ask for your help. Besides you're free to mingle and explore on your own provided you only stick to the places the museum has allowed us." Tom wasn't pushing Harry, not really. But he did have his hands on his shoulder to guide him as they head out.

"I get it Tom," Harry rolled his eyes, hands cradling the backpack shoved into his hands and making sure he didn't stumble with Tom's insistent pushing, "you're acting like I didn't have a hand planning this?"

"Ah, of course, you did."

Thankfully, it was over by three that afternoon. Unfortunately, it was a rather formal event and while it didn't call for a tux, Tom insisted that he wear a tie and viciously attacked his hair with gel and comb so it would some resemblance of order (he was very successful but it hurt Harry a lot). But let it be known that his hair was more stubborn than he could over hope to be and halfway through the boring mix and mingle it was, as Abraxas praised when he saw Harry again, 'a tasteful mess.'

Harry really wants to go home, hence, he was hiding behind the nearly empty buffet table. He pulled out his phone, debated on whether or not he should drag his friends into this before sighing and just opening one of the games Luna insisted he should have. It was a great way to pass the time.

"Ahem."

His phone slipped and he had a brief game catch with it before he caught it and glared at his cousin. He got a raised brow and an unimpressed look in answer. He may have pouted, there were no witnesses, aside from Abraxas but he tends to ignore any and all antics the two cousins get into.

"If you're done," Tom said as he subtly surveyed the rest of the guests still lingering around, "We're leaving. Now. Before Slughorn catches us all."

"Yes!" Harry whispered-shouted but also shivered when Slughorn was mentioned and Abraxas laughed at the cousins. Harry pouted and Tom sent him a look that was ignored.

Tom smiled, all sly with an eyebrow quirked with the slightest challenge, "Abraxas was kind enough to treat us to some dinner."

Abraxas swiveled his eyes to Tom but said nothing, face completely neutral. "Of course. Anything for my favorite friends."

"Free food." Harry didn't care if there was any sarcasm involved, he just wanted out now, people have already started trickling out and he assumes that Tom left someone else to deal with things, "Nice."

He pushed the other two to get them moving and didn't let up even when they did move. They snuck off and used the parking lot exit where they waited for a couple of minutes for their ride to come pick them up (because, of course, the blond messaged his family driver to pick them up and drive them to wherever the blond had in mind. Just because Tom may have insisted that he graciously treat them to dinner doesn't mean that he wouldn't follow through).

Tom kept jabbing him in the back every time Harry was slouching. Harry kept straightening and shooting him a glare while subtly moving away from the pointy fingers.

The car finally rolled by, it was fancy, expensive but still sleek and subtle, nothing out of the usual when Abraxas was involved. They got in, Abraxas took shotgun of course.

The place Abraxas picked was pretty upscale, again nothing unusual with Abraxas around. It would also take a thirty-minute drive to get there, approximately. It was fine since it would give the restaurant enough time to prepare a table for them, Malfoy connections or not, the place usually did have a thirty minute to an hour waiting time.

The radio was playing some classical piece Harry couldn't name, but it was familiar.

They got some seats by the windows and saw the people passing by. Harry let the two decide to order, otherwise, they'd just keep shooting down his choices on principle.

It was only after being bored out of his skull to even think anymore that he noticed that they weren't moving, having been staring blankly at the same street for a while now. Looking over to his cousin, Tom was preoccupied with something on his phone but was still taking the time to argue over what they'll be eating with Abraxas.

He shifted, but not really wanting to move from where he was basically plastered on his side of the car, he nudged Tom's leg with his foot. Tom shot him a look but he motioned to the window. It took a short moment for Tom to get it.

"Abraxas." Tom said as he checked his watch.

"Hmm?" The blond was preoccupied with his phone, fingers rapidly typing away as his eyes stayed glued on the screen.

"We aren't moving." That had the blond freezing and looked up to see the long line of cars.

"So we aren't," A blond brow crinkled, and a frown made itself known, "I can't recall any protest or parade scheduled today. We could walk the rest of the way there, of course, it's only a block away."

"Maybe there was an accident and they had to you know," Harry said as he opened the door and got out, one hand gesturing to the lines of cars.

"Always the ray of sunshine," Tom dryly said as he closed the car door, Harry moved to his side, punched his cousin's arm before staying put at his side. Abraxas was still in the car, talking to their driver.

When he did come out it was with grace, again, nothing out of the usual with Abraxas.

"Come along, if we hurry we don't need to wait for another half hour for a table." They let Abraxas lead, the cousins falling back a bit so they can talk in relative privacy.

"Why can't we go someplace that isn't fancy?" Harry crossed his arms.

"It isn't that fancy."

"Uh-huh."

At the disbelieving look sent to him, Tom smiled, "It's no casual diner but I can assure you this is nothing like Malfoy New Year's soiree."

Harry made a face but didn't comment.

The place wasn't bad as he thought.

Despite his initial thoughts and Tom's words, Abraxas picked a restaurant that was sought after but it wasn't extreme fine dining. Thankfully.

Though some of the servers kept eyeing him for some reason. The hostess did the same when she greeted them as well. Of course, Abraxas took care of the talking and had the complete attention of the hostess in a handful of seconds. Behind them, he shared a look with Tom again, they were both confused and a little wary.

They were given a table that had a great view of the rest the room, they could even see the entrance. It was how Harry while waiting for their food to get there while the other two talked about this and that, he was able to spot the Flamels.

A kick to Tom's shin had his cousin glaring at him again. "What?" he hissed.

"The Flamels," was all he said and just as their server came back and brought their food with him.

Tom's been meaning to talk to them, or at least Mr. Flamel.

"So it is," was what Tom said when he eventually turned to look towards the entrance, there was a short line, "ah, looks like they're headed to the private more private tables. Pity."

Harry blinked, "They have those?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Tom shot back as he speared his salad. Abraxas sighed from his side of the table, he had hoped that Harry would be too uninterested to engage Tom. The best he can do is steel himself, they tend to get into weird arguments and sooner or later other guests will start shooting them looks, they don't get violent about it (not unlike Harry's Weasley friends) so it's unlikely that they'll be kicked out but it will most definitely be a long night for the blond.

"Hurry up Nicholas." Perenelle snapped after she shut the cab door.

"Pen. Wait! Here, keep the change," He quickly shoved the bills on the cab driver's hand and hurried to his wife's side, making sure to take her hand in his. Inwardly, he sighed. The missus was mad, but it was hardly anyone's fault that the traffic became so heavy that the cab they were riding, like everyone else that was driving or was taking a cab, was stuck. A lot of people were doing the same, opening their doors and walking off.

"We do not want to be late for this Nicholas." She said still keeping her stride, head held high and hair done up as she always does on the off chance she needs to deck someone. They were almost there at the restaurant. She whispered, almost sounding worried, "We don't know what we're tempting by being late."

"I know dear," Nicholas sighed, well aware how on edge his wife has been the past few days. Especially since they keep spotting crows every time they were out and about, they've been seeing them everywhere. There in one moment, gone the next.

"But please," he quietly begged as he raised their joined hands to kiss hers and let his lips linger there long enough to whisper, "you need to relax, dear."

She nodded, "We're here."

There was a short wait but after mentioning that they had a reservation under the name Peverell (and that had both of them wary, they were rumored to be one of Death's favorites, why they died so young in comparison to others, that Death was always eager for anyone with Peverell blood to be in its embrace. The use of the name Peverell can mean many things in their case. A warning or a hint?), they were led to their private table.

Perenelle waved off the woman before she could usher them through the door, wanting to open it herself. After the hostess asked again if they were sure, she left the couple with the promise of coming back with the menus and some drinks.

As soon as the couple was left alone in the hallway to the private rooms, Perenelle took a steadying breath and looking at Nicholas, who gave her an encouraging look as he squeezed her hand on more time and as one they faced the door.

Perenelle slowly reached for the doorknob, turned it and pushed the door open.