"My first case! Can you believe it, Auror Potter? I mean, technically, I'm just sitting in on the interrogation. But still! Is it a good one? Not that murder is good. I don't want it to be a murder. Just tell me it's not something lame like jaywalking with a broom. Would it be unprofessional to take a picture of myself in the interrogation room?"

"You mean a mugshot?"

Brian chuckled. "Good one, Auror Potter."

Harry's smile stretched thinly across his face. The intern's sunny disposition made it hard to keep him in the dark about the letters. For nearly a year now, Brian had put up with meaningless paperwork, endless coffee runs, and boring meetings with "witnesses" who just wanted to see Harry Potter. He'd even seemed to enjoy it, although Harry knew from personal experience that could hardly be the case. Before using the pensive, Harry had been putting the finishing touches on a letter recommending Brian for special training. As much as Harry wanted to accidentally lose that letter in the mail for fifteen years, he wasn't willing to destroy Brian's future over a prank gone wrong. If that was what it was.

Brian's eyes darted across the empty interrogation room. "Do we do pep talks beforehand?" He winced. "I should call them debriefs, shouldn't I?"

With a sweeping gesture, Harry sent the chair crashing against Brian's legs. "Sit."

Brian obeyed with a grin, which wavered as Harry took the seat opposite him. "Don't the suspects normally sit across from the Aurors?"

Instead of answering, Harry opened his folder and smoothed the fake letters out in front of Brian. "Take a look at these letters." Having memorized them, Harry took the opportunity to study Brian. He was fidgeting in his seat, a classic sign of deception. Yet the beat Brian strummed with his fingers seemed to reflect the nervous, caffeine-driven jitters of an intern on his first case. It didn't feel like the nervous tick of someone trying to conceal a crime.

"What do you make of them?" Harry asked, hoping to spark some sort of response. Preferably, a confession.

Finally, a touch of conflict in Brian's eyes. He refused to meet Harry's eyes, although he looked more reluctant than guilty. "I don't think we have any legal right to arrest Malfoy," Brian said finally.

Harry adjusted his glasses, searching for some sort of sign. Either Brian was a gifted liar, or he really didn't recognize the letters and still believed he'd been assigned to a case.

"He was a minor," Brian continued, "and even without the statute of limitations, we couldn't charge him for breaking House Elf abuse laws that hadn't been created yet. You know, ex post facto." He snorted, gesturing to the letter. "Post. Get it?" When Harry didn't react, he lowered his head. "No jokes during interrogation. Got it."

"So you don't think these letters are jokes?" Come on, Brian. You know I won't be happy, but if that's all it is, I won't punish you that harshly.

Brian scratched his head. "Er, well, I'm starting to think that this isn't a real case at all, and you're just testing me. Does that count?"

"You've never seen these letters before?"

"No."

Brian's fingers had stopped drumming that nervous tune, dropping instead to his sides. Although he hadn't meant to, Harry found himself leaning halfway across the table, scouring Brian's eyes for any sign of deception. The last time they'd been in this position, Harry had been treating Brian to his first ever foot long sub. Now, with the lights dimmed, it felt like a real interrogation.

"Because I saw something on your desk the other day," Harry said finally. "I didn't get a good look at it, but I recognized the signature."

Brian's mouth fell open. He caught it halfway and readjusted himself on his chair. Harry sat back with folded arms and waited.

"I didn't send you these," Brian said. "You can give me Veritaserum, I swear—"

"What I want is the truth. Without Veritaserum." Harry continued quickly so Brian wouldn't think he doubted him, "So you didn't send the letters. But you were doing something with Draco's signature."

Brian's eyes flickered up at the name. Belatedly, Harry remembered he was supposed to be on a last name basis with Draco. He felt a tinge of pride that he'd trained Brian well enough to notice slip-ups like that. "I was," the intern admitted, lowering his head.

Harry rather missed Brian's babbling. It would have made the interrogation so much easier. About to prod the intern for information, Harry suddenly remembered a second set of mysterious letters that both he and Malfoy had paid little attention to. Letters to Malfoy, not from him.

The pieces clicked into place. "You're the one who's been submitting his name to the committee in charge of Orders of Merlin."

Brian's lips twitched, as if trying not to laugh at a bad joke. Harry rubbed his forehead, not sure whether to feel embarrassed, relieved, or frustrated.

"Why?" he asked. "Why not nominate Voldemort?" Brian winced at the name. In his defense, he had picked the habit up from Ron.

"It's not what you think, Auror Potter," he said quietly.

Harry raised his eyebrow. "You mean the letters were sincere?" Of course, since the letters he'd assumed were real turned out to be fake, it only made sense that the ones he'd written off an amateurish prank were real. Maybe detective work wasn't his calling after all.

"Not really," Brian said, crushing his hopes. "I…" He sighed. "The year you— I was a Second Year at Hogwarts when Malfoy was a Seventh Year." Although the information wasn't new, Harry was still taken aback. The Battle of Hogwarts seemed so long ago that Harry thought Brian had to have been a toddler at the time. Teddy's age, at best. But no— in the dim lighting, Brian looked his age for once. Noticing the shadows under his eyes, Harry finally understood why someone as chipper as Brian had pursued a career as an Auror.

"I avoided the Carrows for the most part. I wasn't a pureblood, so they didn't want to recruit me, and my family was neutral, so they didn't persecute me either. At least, not…" He swallowed. "One night, I fell asleep in the library. I only woke up when one of Malfoy's lackeys knocked over a stack of books."

Hearing Crabbe and Goyle referred to as such made Harry surprisingly sad. They never had had much luck with books in their life.

"I know I didn't make it under the table in time," Brian continued. "My study materials were laid out in plain sight. When Malfoy stopped right in front of my table, I started sobbing, loudly enough that Madam Pince would have kicked me out of the library, if it had been open." Although he said it with a sense of humor, Brian eyed the interrogation table warily, as though it might transform into the one from his story. "Then Malfoy looked into my eyes, and said, 'False alarm.' As if he didn't see me. But I know he did."

There was a grudging admiration in Brian's eyes as he spoke. In his mind, Harry could see Draco standing in front of the table, wearing the same expression he had when he had denied recognizing Harry at Malfoy Manor. His mother had had the same stoniness in her eyes when she had lied to Voldemort's face. It wasn't a heroic expression—that would have given away the bluff. It was the expression of someone who had given up fighting. Of course, Voldemort hadn't considered that Narcissa had given up fighting for him.

Brian's face twisted into a scowl. "And then he made me break out into zits."

The sudden addition made Harry choke on his laughter. Of course. Brian probably thought Draco had done it simply to be cruel, but Harry knew better. Draco wouldn't have been able to lie to his aunt if Hermione hadn't cast the stinging hex on him either. He always needed an insurance policy.

"Don't get me wrong, I hated him and the way he lorded over his power," Brian continued. "But he never went out of his way to be vicious. I think it was because he was too much of a coward, but still." He shrugged. "When Auror Weasley had me sort through old files from the war, I saw the records from his trial. It made me angry. I wish I had been old enough to testify. I don't know whether I would have defended him or condemned him. But after keeping my secret all those years, I just felt I had to do something. And I didn't know what."

Brian sighed, then used the momentum to puff up his shoulders and stare into Harry's eyes. "So I copied his signature and used it to fill out the nomination form. I got to thank him and say screw you at the same time. And I kept doing it because it made me feel better." He added with an ounce of shame, "Plus it was funny."

Although Harry had admittedly laughed when he'd learned about the rejection letters, he didn't now. "I know you didn't mean it to hurt anyone. But when you fill out those forms, you're not just mocking Malfoy. You're disrespecting of all the men and women who actually deserve the award."

Remembering that both of his mentors had won said award, Brian slumped in his chair. "I'm sorry, Auror Potter." His voice wavered as he asked, "Is there any way I could make things right?"

Harry frowned. What Brian had done was immature, but given his record of hard work, Harry didn't want to punish the boy too severely. Humility was a rare trait in Auror trainees, which Brian had in bunches; at the moment, he just happened to be humiliated instead. Sitting at the table now, Harry could see that twelve-year-old boy who had hidden under the table from Draco. Everyone, Harry included, had assumed Brian had gotten away unscarred from the war and had been too young to need counseling. Probably the same people who assumed Draco didn't have nightmares about the war.

"You can start by filling out another one of those nominations," Harry said finally.

Brian looked surprised. "But…"

"Not for an Order of Merlin First Class," Harry continued. "Write about what happened that night and how you feel about it. Say you don't know what would be the proper way to thank Malfoy. And then sign your own name." Brian nodded. Harry could already see a draft unfolding behind the intern's eyes.

"I'd like a copy on my desk by tonight," Harry said, gathering up his files. "I'm disappointed in you. But I understand how you feel." He laid his hand on Brian's shoulder on his way out. "If you ever need to talk…"

Brian nodded, smiling for the first time. "Thanks, Auror Potter."

"Call me Harry."

Brian took advantage of the opportunity earlier than Harry expected. At the call, Harry paused by the doorway.

"What about the other letters?" Brian asked.

A few days ago, he would have welcomed Brian into the investigation. Even now, he didn't doubt that the intern would be professional in his investigation. But after hearing Brian's story, Harry realized he had fallen into the same trap. These letters weren't meant to be part of his work life. They were personal.

"Just an exercise," Harry lied.

Forget his failed investigation. The only bit of useful information he'd gleaned was that the letters were hand delivered.

As he apparated into his house, he called, "Kreacher!"

This time, he would be ready.

~D~H~

"…and on the third day, Ron actually tried eating his shoe. At least, what was left of it after the whole 'Create-a-Portkey' idea blew up in our face. Literally."

Neville roared with laughter as Harry recounted the Rachel misadventure. It was a whole lot funnier telling the story than it had been living it.

"My job isn't half as exciting as yours," the Herbology professor said. "At worst, a First Year starts growing Wormseed out of his bellybutton."

Harry grimaced. "Wormseed? I hope that's a misnomer."

"Actually, it's used in Treacle Fudge." Neville gave him a friendly nudge. "You're much better with plants than you let on." Noticing Harry's frown, he continued, "I noticed you started a garden out front. It's very nice."

"Oh." Of course Neville would notice Draco's potions patch. "Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you."

Neville beamed. "How are you dealing with the Nuria Bactalus?"

"Er… I, uh… sunlight. And water. Lots of water."

Neville gave him an odd look. "It's a weed."

"Oh. Right." Abashed, Harry took a long sip of mead. "It's Kreacher's garden, actually."

"Kreacher's?" Dealing with plants all day made Neville particularly perceptive, more so than Hermione in entertaining unlikely possibilities.

Harry shrugged. "All I know is dinner has started tasting a whole lot better." Which wasn't a lie. Draco wasn't much better of a cook than Harry, but living together had encouraged them to branch out in attempts to impress each other.

Neville hadn't stopped smiling. "Well, you should compliment Kreacheron his Starthistle." It was a polite way of saying, I'll keep your secret, but I don't believe you for a second.

After Neville took his leave, Harry started clearing off the table. He jumped and hit his head on the cabinet door when a voice beneath him drawled, "Longbottom's right. That is some fine Starthistle." Rubbing his forehead, Harry turned as Draco crawled out from underneath the table, a smirk gracing a face. "We really should give Kreacher a raise."

"Were you there the whole time?" Already, Harry was reviewing everything he and Neville had discussed, thankfully devoid of any embarrassing or sensitive information. Thank Merlin they hadn't broken out the mead earlier.

Draco shrugged. "You didn't give me much warning."

"I thought you were off visiting Pansy!"

"I had to leave early."

"Why?" Harry took another sip of mead. Judging by the depth of Draco's scowl, he'd need it.

"She asked me to marry her."

Harry's mouth dropped open. Only about half of the mead he was in the process of swallowing landed back in the glass. "She what?"

Draco's scowl softened. "No need to be jealous, darling. I turned her down, of course."

"But…" Harry sputtered. "She knows that you're…"

"Gay? Of course. That was why she asked." Noticing Harry's baffled expression, Draco smirked. "Didn't you ever wonder why we dated so long at Hogwarts?"

"Pansy Parkinson is a lesbian?"

Draco put a finger to his lips. "Actually, she has a thing for mermen. Of course, if you ask her, she'll claim she was taking pity on me. It doesn't matter. I told her I was dating someone else."

Inexplicably, the words made Harry as terrified as he was proud. "You… you didn't say who, did you?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. She laughed in my face and told me my parents should have named me Pansy if I didn't have the balls to tell her the truth. I pretended to be offended and took my leave." Draco circled around the table, propping his elbow on the counter and leaning against it so that he faced Harry. "You haven't told any of your friends about us."

Harry started playing with a loose string on his shirt. "I wanted to give us a few days of peace without everyone going crazy around us." The excuse sounded weak.

"I'm not just talking about the past week," Draco said. "I'm talking about the past few months." Outside of the house, they lived entirely separate lives. Whenever their paths coincided, such as when it was Malfoy's turn to bail out Gregory Goyle for snorting pixie dust (a biweekly occurrence), they acted as casual acquaintances might— some small talk, a sprinkle of insults, nothing to indicate that anything between them had changed. If Ron weren't so oblivious, or if Goyle weren't constantly high, they might have noticed that the bickering bordered on flirting long before even Harry and Draco had. As it was, only Hermione had an inkling that something was going on. Harry still had a bruise from when he'd blamed it on her hormones.

"I know," Harry sighed. "I just didn't want to bring it up. I liked what we had. I didn't want to spoil it."

That sounded weak too, but it earned him a kiss. "I know the feeling," Draco whispered in his ear. He pulled back. "It can be Kreacher's garden for now. But eventually, we're going to have to tell someone."

Harry smiled, thankful that Draco didn't push the subject. There was a difference between hiding from the world and seeking refuge. One involved being dragged into the light, kicking and screaming; the other, waiting patiently for the right moment. A calculated coward. Ginny would have seen it as a title of shame. Draco knew otherwise. "I think I know who to start with."

~D~H~

Grimmauld Place hardly resembled the haunted house it had been during the war. The only rooms that remained untouched were Sirius and Regulus's rooms, the latter because Kreacher would have a mental breakdown if they so much as adjusted a picture frame. Other than that, the elf had been surprisingly amiable to the changes, likely because Draco had sweet-talked him into believing that pink was indeed the new Black.

Maybe pink was exaggerating a little bit, but Grimmauld was certainly much more colorful than it had ever been before. Not quite as colorful as the peacocks of Malfoy Manor, but pretty close. Plus, unlike the peacocks, the house didn't bite. Much. At times, Scorpius and Albus got a bit testy from their perch on the kitchen pantry. That was mostly because they had thus far failed in their efforts to set Mrs. Black up with Phineas Nigellus. Honestly, the pairings some people came up with, Harry thought, shaking his head.

In all, Grimmauld was starting to look like home. Accordingly, Draco thought it was appropriate to throw a small housewarming party with Andromeda and Teddy.

Harry could tell the blond was as nervous as he was excited. He fussed over the furniture arrangement. He fussed over the menu. Harry put his foot down after the blond had rejected his fifth outfit of the night and told him that he preferred him without his clothes anyway, which led to several rounds of rather athletic sex. As a result, both of them were quite flustered when they answered the door.

Andromeda shot them a knowing glance. Of course, the Slytherin had known they were a couple before they had even been a couple, if, indeed, that was what they were. Seeing as they had yet to tell anyone about their relationship, Harry hadn't had to define it to anyone.

Teddy, of course, didn't notice a thing, his hair a vibrant shade of turquoise. "Uncle Harry! Cousin Draco! Grandmother said we were going to a party. Are there going to be presents?"

"Teddy," Andromeda scolded. "What have I told you? You don't ask for presents."

"Your grandmother's right," Draco replied sternly. Then he winked at the five-year-old and whispered, "But check the room down the hall."

The boy bounded off excitedly. Harry felt a brief surge of playful jealousy that Draco was replacing him as the favorite uncle, but he quickly brushed it away. Especially when Teddy tripped over the troll leg umbrella stand.

Draco and Andromeda rushed to Teddy's aid. The five-year-old hurriedly sat up and wiped any tears out of his eyes, no doubt trying to impress his uncles with his Gryffindor bravery, although his grin had wavered into a frown.

Harry couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing.

"Harry!" Draco hissed. "Are you out of your mind?"

"He tripped over the umbrella stand!" Harry clapped his hands together as he steadied himself on the wall, laughing hysterically. "Don't you get it? The umbrella stand!"

Draco and Andromeda exchanged a worried glance. Teddy seemed confused at first but, used to grown-ups laughing at random things he did, he quickly lost interest and ran off to check out his presents.

"Are you feeling okay?" Andromeda asked, her eyebrows twitching.

"I'm fine. No, really." He dodged Draco's attempt to feel his forehead. Catching his breath, he explained, "His mother tripped over that stand all the time. Literally, every time she entered the house, there'd be this loud crash, and then Mrs. Black would start screaming her head off for the next ten minutes. It was… well, I never thought it would be endearing." Harry's mind finally caught up with his heart, and he wiped the smile off his face. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't have laughed like that." No wonder Draco was surpassing him as the cool uncle.

To his surprise, Andromeda was grinning. "That sounds just like my Dora. She probably spent half her childhood on the floor. But she always got right back up." The smile faded from her face as the memories sunk in, along with the realization that there was no getting back up from where Tonks had fallen. She looked away. "So, boys, I see you've finally come to your senses."

Harry enjoyed the look of shock that passed over Draco's face. "Come to our— you knew?"

"It was obvious from the way Harry talked about you when he told stories about Hogwarts to Teddy," Andromeda replied.

"Oh, really?" Draco nudged Harry, who felt his cheeks growing hot. "How come you don't tell me these bedtime stories? Although, mind you, I'm hard-pressed to find much good to say about me from Hogwarts."

Brian's story flickered through Harry's mind. From the smirk Draco was sporting, Harry knew the blond was just fishing for compliments. "Well, you made a rather adorable ferret."

Draco scowled. "Please tell me that's not the first thing my cousin ever heard about me."

"Of course not." From behind Draco's back, Andromeda shot him an amused expression. Harry quickly changed the subject. "So you're still okay with Teddy spending the night with us? We thought it might help him understand… well… that is, if you don't mind us telling him about…"

Andromeda cut him off. "Of course. I'm not going to make the same mistakes my parents made with me." She held her finger up. "But if Teddy comes home asking me how babies are made…"

"We'll keep it G-rated," Harry promised. The blank looks he received reminded him he was talking to two purebloods. Was it any wonder Draco had turned out the way he had if he hadn't grown up watching Disney movies? "Sorry. Muggle expression. We'll keep it simple."

The excited shouts from the other room informed them that Teddy had finished opening his present. Harry grimaced. "Although we need to get Teddy to stop calling you Cousin Draco," he muttered as Andromeda hurried ahead.

Draco frowned. "We can't have him calling me something like— what was it you called your cousin— Big D?"

"Even though you are," Harry teased, earning him a half scolding, half appreciative look from his lover. "But seriously, Uncle Harry and Cousin Draco?" He grimaced at the implication.

"I see your point. I suppose Second Cousin, Once Removed would do." Harry shoved the blond playfully, who laughed. "Fine, Uncle Draco it is."

After sufficiently oohing and ahing at Teddy's new miniature potions kit (the equivalent of a Muggle Easy-Bake-Oven), Harry and Draco gave their visitors a brief tour of the house. Teddy was got bored after a few rooms but was delighted to meet Kreacher. Thanks to Draco's coaxing and Harry's threats, the House Elf tolerated the five-year-old's poking and prodding. Harry nearly fell over laughing when Teddy copied the elf's tennis ball eyes.

"And what do we have here?"

Hearing the voice, Teddy whirled around. It took him a moment to figure out the hoots were coming from the floor, where Albus and Scorpius had hopped over.

"How come the doorknobs at my house don't talk?" Teddy demanded.

"They don't talk?" Albus sounded horrified. "I thought the neighbors were just shy!"

"Lies," Scorius said. "I know the pantry was glaring at me yesterday. She's jealous of my new wax."

"You mean when you fell into the toilet?"

Scorpius glared. "Yeah, about that. Which one of you doesn't flush when you pee during the night?"

Harry buried his face in his hands—because of the doorknobs' antics, not because he was the guilty party— then started the introductions.

Teddy's eyes glowed as the doorknobs jumped onto his outstretched palms. "Hey, I can do that too!" Before Harry could ask what "that" was, Teddy's nose and mouth melded together into a bulbous shape, which spoke through a small, keyhole opening. "Knock knock!"

"Who's there?" Albus asked.

"You know."

"You know who?" Scorpius asked.

"Exactly!" Teddy threw his arms up in the air as the doorknobs started cackling uncontrollably. Harry shook his head. The five-year-old had heard the joke at school and thought it was hilarious that someone's parent had named their kid "You-Know-Who." He didn't know that Voldemort had been behind his parents' deaths, although Harry had broached the subject to Andromeda a couple of times. He spared a sideways glance to make sure Teddy's joke hadn't upset her too much.

That was when he noticed that Andromeda was no longer with them.

He tapped Draco's shoulder, gave the blond wordless instructions to watch over Teddy, then slipped out of the room.

Sure enough, he found Andromeda transfixed in front of the Black family tapestry, tracing a name. Nymphadora Tonks. And then, two threads that connected to it, Ted Tonks and Remus Lupin.

"The house is nothing like I remember it," Andromeda remarked, staring at the embroidered faces. "I mean it as a compliment."

Harry joined her. "I hardly touched anything until Draco came. Somehow, it seemed… sacrilegious, to change anything. Like I was destroying a part of them." He stared sadly at the small black stitches of Sirius Black and the little black dog perched beside it. The first few times he'd tried to reconstruct his godfather's face, he'd ended up recreating that scorching black hole. His face had never looked right on the wall. It was as if there had been a certain honor being blotched out of the family.

He had closed his eyes and half-heartedly flicked his wand, thinking of the first time he'd seen Sirius. When he'd opened them, the Grim had been staring back at him, and he'd known he'd succeeded. This was how Sirius wanted to be remembered. As Padfoot the Marauder. As Snuffles, the best godfather Harry could have hoped for.

Harry let a sad grin grow on his face. "But then I realized. If I never changed anything, I could never create anything new." Gently, Harry guided Andromeda's finger to the blossom at the bottom of the tree, Teddy Lupin. "Not every change was bad. Some things changed for the better." He guided her other hand to Draco Malfoy. "They created this world for us, and they would have wanted us to live in it."

Andromeda sniffled. "I just wish they could live in it too."

"Me too," Harry admitted. "But a wise man once told me that it did not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. He's dead now, and I miss him too. But…" He stared at Draco's name as he remembered that night. Somehow, it wasn't as horrifying as it had been few months ago. Now that he knew Draco so well, he could interpret all the shadows in the blond's eyes, the lines on his forehead, the tremors in his voice. And not one of them, not even the skull on his arm, said, Death Eater. "But, even so, I'm happy. I'm happy to have a wonderful godson who trips over umbrella stands, and a wonderful boyfriend who helps him to his feet." He put his hand on Andromeda's shoulder. "And my godson's wonderful grandmother who's the strongest woman I've ever known."

That probably wasn't the best way to end his speech if his goal was to prevent her from crying. But Blacks didn't cry as a rule, and when Andromeda started sobbing in his arms, Harry knew he'd done the right thing.

~D~H~

After Andromeda departed, Harry found Draco relaxing in an armchair.

"Where's Teddy?" Harry asked.

"Fashion show," Draco replied, pointing into the closet.

Sure enough, they could hear a rustling sound from within as a voice squeaked excitedly, "Oooh, Cousin— I mean, Uncle Draco, this one's gonna be real good!"

"Let's see it," Draco called.

The five-year-old jumped out, whirling around dramatically. Aside from wearing a pair of Draco's loafers that dwarfed his feet, Teddy's attire wasn't all that different from when he'd arrived at the house, but his hair was now bright red and looked like a hurricane had gone through it. He sported a gigantic pair of beaver-like front teeth, and his face was littered with freckles.

"We're trying to figure out what his new cousin might look like," Draco explained, earning him a glare from Harry.

"Dinner's ready," Harry said.

Teddy pouted. "One more!"

Harry immediately caved. "Alright. But no more teasing your cousin!"

Teddy giggled. "Okay… no more teasing my cousin."

Harry and Draco exchanged a glance as Teddy retreated back into the closet. "What does that mean?" Draco asked.

Remembering Draco's relation to Teddy, Harry answered, "I think it means you better watch out."

From the closet, Teddy giggled like the true son of a Marauder, and he didn't disappoint.

"Well done, Teddy," Harry whistled, impressed that the five-year-old had managed to replicate that unique sheen Draco had to his hair.

"But you haven't seen the best part!" Teddy protested. Without warning, he pulled up his sleeve.

There, printed on his forearm, was the Dark Mark.

Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews! In the meantime, enjoy another cliffhanger!