A/N: Another chapter seriously overhauled that feels, flows, and looks a hundred thousand times stronger than it did.
Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good …(of course it's not ours!)
)PvsM(
"You sure he lives here?" Dorian stared up at the crumbling, ramshackled apartment building in front of them, an eyebrow disappearing into his hair. Harry didn't blame him – the whole thing looked like it might collapse and crush them all if they so much as touched the buzzer.
"Trust me," Cedric said, grinning a little. "Ken knows that this is the last place in the world his mum or anyone else would ever look for him. He's right in the middle of London's red light district. Anyway, Soho's his style. Theaters, bookstores, and lovely ladies at his beck and call."
"Sounds like a troublemaker," Harry noted.
"That's one way to put it," Tristan muttered. "Kendal Longbottom is still a legend at Hogwarts."
"Longbottom?" Ginny repeated.
"Neville Longbottom's son, yeah," Cedric said. "When we were in school, we realized my mum and his dad had disappeared about the same time. We've worked together, pooling our resources, since Hogwarts. Now we talk whenever we can and look for our parents in our own ways."
Cedric climbed the crumbling steps to the door, pressing the buzzer. A moment's pause, then a click and a sleep-rough voice.
"This had better be good."
"Interrupting a good shag, am I?" Cedric smirked.
"Oy – that you, Ced?" The sleepy voice perked up.
"No, it's your mum. I brought you a pudding."
"Fuck off. I'll buzz you in."
"Take your time," Cedric said. "Just be sure you're clothed when we get up there. There are ladies present."
"Little Tristy, perhaps?" The voice was muffled for a moment. It sounded as though whoever it was pulling a shirt over his head.
"Yes, so see you're dressed, mate."
There was a clink. They only had to wait another moment before the sound of multiple latches, locks, and chains being disengaged met their ears. Then the door clicked open.
"Come on." Cedric led them into a dark, dingy corridor and up a few flights of rickety stairs. Only Dorian, his leg still sore, had trouble with the stairs. He leaned on Tristan and the two were the last to the top of the third flight, which spit them into an even dingier hallway with a single bare bulb set into the ceiling.
"Charming place," Blaise murmured, staring apprehensively around.
"Don't be fooled," Cedric said. "His flat is much cleaner than this. At least it was before all his insane mates moved in during uni. Can't promise anything now." He went to the door at the end of the hall and knocked loudly.
A moment later, a young man poked his head out. His hair would have been dull brown, had not it been highlighted blue. He wore a button-down white shirt and jeans, his feet bare against a carpet that looked clean.
"It is you," Kendal Longbottom said, beaming as he pulled Cedric into a backslapping hug. "What the hell brings you to London, mate? Thought you wouldn't be back until May."
"We're on the run," Cedric said simply, gesturing at the small group crowded in the corridor behind him.
"Really?" Kendal's eyes swept over them, coming to rest on Tristan, Hayden, and Dorian. He chuckled.
"Been a long time, kids," he said. He studied them, his eyes stopping on Tristan. The Slytherin Seeker glared at him, hands on her hips. "Well, well," Kendal said, his lip curling up at one corner. "Tristan Potter. What have they been feeding you, girl?"
"I assume you're referring to a substantial different in height and not implying that I'm fat," Tristan snapped, crossing her arms.
"Come here, you silly girl. Don't be cross with me." Kendal tugged her into a hug, which she returned. "No, but really, the last time I saw you was – when was that?"
"You came to stay with Ced over the holidays," Tristan said with a crooked smile. "I was nine."
"And flat-chested," Kendal said, tweaking her nose. Tristan batted his hand away and Cedric made an interesting noise in his throat.
"Are you through?" Hayden cut in crossly. Kendal smirked at him.
"Hayden Malfoy," Kendal said, grinning and keeping an arm around Tristan, who let him. "All grown up as well. And with a big fat crush on – " Tristan turned red and slugged him in the stomach. He coughed, bending over with his hands on his knees.
"Playing Beater, are you?" Kendal wheezed.
"Seeker, actually," Tristan said, examining her fingernails. "I'm very delicate." Her brother and Harry snorted with laughter.
"Mind letting us in?" Malfoy rasped irritably from the back of the group. "While I'm still too young to be a father?"
"To be his father, anyway," Ginny mumbled, glancing at Hayden.
Kendal's full attention turned to the four other young people on the landing. His eyes widened, narrowed. He tilted his head to one side.
"Ced – they look – I mean, there's something – look, do I know any of you?"
"In a manner of speaking, I suppose." Ginny sighed.
"I'll explain everything inside, Ken." Cedric's voice was a bit stern as he pulled Tristan away. "But like I said, we're on the run and all that . . . "
"Right." Kendal's eyes moved reluctantly from their scrutiny of Harry, who was trying to flatten his hair over his scar. "Come on in."
He led them into a large sitting room with a fire. Eight pairs of exhausted eyes turned beadily on the large sofas and hearth rug.
"You don't need to worry about being found here," Kendal promised, directing them to leave their cloaks and shoes in a room just off the entry. "We're well warded against anything, even Unspeakables."
"Good thing, that, as we're running from four," Tristan mumbled, tossing her boots into the room and shrugging off her rucksack.
"And a psychotic murderer," Dorian added helpfully.
"There's another kind?" Blaise muttered.
"Merlin's toenails! What have you lot done?" Kendal stared at them all. "I've only ever managed an Auror, but four Unspeakables!" He glared at Cedric. "Why didn't you tell me? I could be on the run with you."
"I'll give you the short version," Cedric said testily, tossing his cloak on top of Tristan's jacket and pushing passed Kendal into the sitting room. "These four – " he waved a hand at Harry, Blaise, Malfoy, and Ginny – "are Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, and," he paused when his eyes reached his mum, "Blaise Zabini. They've traveled twenty-three years into their future. They came to warn us about a mad git we're calling Red Robes and we need Albus Dumbledore to help us sort the whole mess out. We're headed to Avalon, where he's supposed to be."
"You mean, you're heading to Glastonbury." Kendal led the others into the sitting room, grinning as they made a mad rush at the sofas. Blaise and Dorian sulkily sat down on the hearth rug. "Muggles like to think it's the site of Avalon, but you know that's a load. Avalon is a myth, even in the magical world."
"I also know that no one's ever seriously tried to find the entrance to Avalon through Glastonbury," Cedric countered. "I've checked, Ken. I know what I'm talking about."
"If there is a real Avalon," Kendal said slowly. "And no one's found it for millennia, what makes you think you're going to find it now?"
"Because we reckon Dumbledore found it," Cedric said. "If anyone can find a hidden island, it's Dumbledore. And if he's there, the entrance is there and we can find it." He gave his friend a superior look. "I've been on the road for ages. I'm a damned good tracker."
"No arguments there, old friend." Kendal held up his hands in surrender. "Well, I'm happy to put you up as long as you need. You look like you could do with a little medicine and a shower."
"Exactly!" Blaise said, leaning back in front of the fire and closing her eyes.
"Food?" Dorian said hopefully.
"You haven't changed a bit, Ian," Kendal commented. "You lot are in luck," he added, heading for a door off the sitting room. "I happen to have a healer living with me at the moment." He rapped a fist against the door. "Eric!"
"What?" Another young man, shirtless and wearing baggy plaid trousers, glared out the door at him. Giggling could be heard coming from the room.
"Who's that, then?" Kendal asked, peering around his friend.
"Alice," Eric said. He winced as a pillow hit him in the head and a woman's voice said, "Maggie, you git!"
"Hi, Maggie!" Kendal said cheerfully. "When you're through with Eric, you can come by my room."
Maggie said something rude and Eric grinned.
"Look, can you spare a minute, mate?" Kendal asked, returning his attention to Eric. "Ced's here with a whole crowd of injured people and they could probably do with a bit more than bandages."
Eric looked indignant and his dark, hooded eyes looked sleepy. "Tell Ced to fuck off for an hour. I'm busy."
"Busy with what – fucking off?" Tristan spoke up, stalking the length of the room and glaring at Eric. "Look," she said, poking a bandaged finger into his chest, "we just escaped a dragon breeding ground in Scotland. Dad and Uncle Draco are going to lose a lung each, my hands have practically been burnt off, and Hayden's shoulder might actually be broken." She pushed passed Eric into his room, eliciting a shriek from the woman in the bed (and ignoring it). She was gone a moment. When she reappeared, she thrust a healer's satchel into Eric's bare chest and said, "You're a healer. Start now."
Eric stared at her retreating back in amazement. He looked much wider awake than he had a moment ago.
"Tristan Potter," he said, throwing Cedric a look of extreme surprise. "Good lord, girl, what have they been feeding you?"
Dorian, to his credit, tried to hide a snigger behind his large hand, but Hayden led out a sharp bark of laughter and Malfoy chuckled. Tristan made an interesting noise in her throat (a noise Blaise made on occasion, Harry realized) and threw herself into her brother's lap.
"What is it withyour sodding friends?" she growled, curling up against his chest and having a little sulk.
"They're first-class prats," Cedric said, glaring at the pair of them. They both smirked at him.
"Don't worry, Tristy," Kendal drawled. "That's our way of telling you you're hot."
"Watch it!" Cedric snapped as Tristan gave them the finger and they both hooted with laughter. "Well, Eric?"
"Oh, all right," Eric grumbled. "What're we dealing with exactly? Direct exposure to dragon flame? Smoke inhalation? Scratches? Burns?"
"Yes," they all said.
"Hmm," Eric muttered. He turned and said something to the girl in his room. A white tee-shirt hit him in the face and he blew her a kiss. Pulling on the shirt, he crossed the room and stood staring at them all.
"Hayden first," Ginny said. "I had to relocate his shoulder and it's been hurting him horribly ever since."
"Mum," Hayden said, looking embarrassed and also in terrible pain.
"Mum?" Eric repeated, glancing at Kendal and Cedric.
"Don't ask," Cedric said, rubbing a hand over his face. Tristan, still in his lap, patted his head with a heavily bandaged hand. He didn't look noticeably soothed.
"Food?" Dorian asked again from the hearth rug.
"Of course, you lot must be starving!" Kendal crossed the room in three strides and disappeared through another dark doorway. As Eric continued to make his rounds, the group began to properly relax for the first time. For now, they were safe. Harry felt suddenly drained. Malfoy, he noticed, must have been tired, too. He hadn't said a word in fully ten minutes, either to complain or heartlessly mock someone. Blaise, lying on the hearth rug beside Dorian, was already asleep, her breath whistling through her hair. The lines of worry and confusion around her eyes were gone, Harry was pleased to see. Ginny, who had managed to squeeze onto the sofa beside Malfoy and Hayden, hovered over the latter as Eric examined his arm. Malfoy seemed almost as interested as Ginny, though he was trying not to show he was. Cedric had Tristan in his lap and was rocking them both gently and humming a soft tune.
"I don't think I'll ever move again," Dorian murmured from the rug, stretching his uninjured leg and closing his eyes. "Except to eat," he added hastily, in case anyone had any doubt at all.
"Me, neither," Tristan exhaled noisily. Hayden's gaze turned toward her, almost as if he couldn't help it. Tristan noticed, stood up, and went to lie next to Dorian on the rug. Dorian grinned. Tristan curled up facing him and said, "Touch me and you're dead, Weasley."
"I would never dream of violating your person!" Dorian protested, a hand snaking toward her anyway. She amused herself with batting away his advances for a few minutes until suddenly his head lulled to the side and he let out a loud snore. Tristan giggled, rolling onto her back. A moment later, she offered her hands to Eric for inspection.
"Looks painful," Eric murmured, examining her scratched and bleeding palms.
"No worse than our last match against Gryffindor," Tristan said, smirking at Hayden around Eric's leg and trying not to wince when he prodded her hand with his wand.
"Yeah, it was really amazing," Hayden drawled. "She slid on her face halfway across the pitch."
"And I caught the Snitch," Tristan taunted.
"Course you did," Eric said. She glowered at him when he added, "Because the other Seeker was salivating over you in a Quidditch kit."
"Oy!" Cedric and Hayden bellowed at the same time.
Tristan's glower because a grin. "Maybe," she said, throwing Hayden a hooded look. "I would have caught the Snitch anyway."
Eric gave a whistle. "You've got nerve, girl."
"She has to, being in Slytherin," Malfoy muttered hoarsely, surprising the room at large.
Tristan looked pleased and Hayden looked disgusted. Eric went off to prepare some potions, adding on his way out, "Because you lot are such a ruddy mess, it's going to take all the supplies I have here to heal you."
"You know we'll pay you for them," Cedric said uncomfortably.
"Shut up," was all Eric said.
"Maybe we should stick around a couple nights here, Cedric." Ginny yawned, leaning her head against Malfoy's arm and closing her eyes. He didn't object.
"Brilliant," Harry agreed in a rasping whisper, stretching his legs out and staring at Blaise and Tristan, both curled on the hearth rug at his feet. Tristan had dropped off now, too, her hair mingling with Blaise's against the bright light of the fire. Tristan had rolled over in her sleep, settling beside Blaise, as though called to be closer to her. Dorian's eyes were still open, though only just. His hand snaked out toward Tristan again, but he caught Harry's eye and yanked it back with a little grin.
"Ken would let us stick around forever," Cedric said slowly, his eyes on Dorian as well. "Harboring fugitives is his idea of Christmas come early. But you lot know we've got to get to Glastonbury ahead of the Unspeakables and Red Robes."
The door of Eric's room opened again and the young healer emerged, floating a large tray spread with potions, bandages, and tweezers beside him.
"Okay," he said. "Hayden, let's set your shoulder before you damage the socket any worse, yeah?"
Hayden paled and Ginny sat up, wide awake. "It's okay," she said, squeezing his good hand. "It will only hurt for a moment."
"And there's a muscle relaxant for after," Eric promised.
"It's okay, Mum," Hayden said, gritting his teeth. He slanted a look at Malfoy, clearly not wanting seem weak in front of his father.
"Right, then." Eric crossed to the tall blonde and knelt before him. "This will be easier if you stand up."
A moment later, a crack and an involuntary scream woke everyone up. Ginny stood on Hayden's uninjured side, rubbing his back. He was ashen, with sweat glistening on his upper lip. Tristan sat bolt upright on the hearth rug. "What the hell happened?"
"Just resetting Hayden's arm," Ginny told her. "Go back to sleep."
Tristan lay slowly back down, but she lay facing her godbrother, biting her lip as her eyes tracked his expression.
"Drink this," Eric ordered. Ginny took the potion from him and held it to Hayden's lips. He swallowed, winced, and then let out a sigh that was almost a groan. "Better?" Eric asked.
"So better," Hayden said, grinning blearily. "We're all very fine now, thank you." He even grinned at Tristan, his smile sloppy. She blushed and glared back.
"What was in that potion?" Ginny asked as Hayden's head sank onto her shoulder and she eased them both back onto the sofa.
"Drugs," Eric said, winking at her as he settled at her feet to look at her hands. "Once his system absorbs them, they'll work like a standard painkiller and he'll stop dribbling on your shirt."
Tristan snickered.
A moment later, Kendal was back with armfuls of blankets. Another man with an armful of fluffy pillows followed.
"Quite a party you've got here, Ced," the man said, nudging Cedric with his hip in passing. "How'd you know my birthday's tomorrow?"
"I'd forgotten," Cedric said, grinning and poking the man in the back. "This isn't exactly a social call, Alex. We're on the run."
"Lookin' pretty social to me," Alex shot back. Harry saw his eyes travel over Ginny and Hayden, the girls asleep on the rug with Dorian between them (how he'd slithered there without Harry or Cedric noticing was anyone's guess).
"Sod off – Ian's practically my cousin," Tristan retorted from the floor without opening her dark eyes.
"Why, it's little Tristy," Alex cooed, clapping a hand over his heart. "Lounging about like a sex goddess on my hearth rug. God, you've grown up. What've they been – "
"Don't say it!" Tristan ordered, her eyes snapping open as she twisted to glare up at him.
"Fine." He winked at her and scurried out of the room when Cedric snarled at him. Eric chuckled and went back to Dorian's leg, prodding the torn flesh gently with his wand. Dorian continued to snore, taking no notice of the healer.
Kendal, meanwhile, was spreading the blankets and pillows out on the floor and trying to keep a straight face. "Go on, Ced, you never should have brought Tristy up here," he said, when Cedric gave him a dirty look. "She's too bloody gorgeous now."
"Spare us, do," Hayden intoned, still leaning on his mum, and apparently recovered from his drugged state.
"You're the worst of the lot, mate," Kendal said. "You're not fooling anyone, you know."
Hayden made a rude gesture and Ginny slapped his hand. He looked like a scolded puppy, Harry thought with a grin. A lot like Malfoy sometimes did when things just weren't going his way.
"I wouldn't have brought her up here if someone wasn't trying to kill her!" Cedric snapped.
"What?" Eric demanded. Kendal shook his head, laughter fading into grim silence.
"Ced, don't." Tristan sat up, scooting cautiously around Dorian and Eric, and leaning back against her brother's long legs. "I'll be all right." She smiled at Harry, who found he was growing very attached to the expression that lit up her green eyes. "You're not the only one looking after me anymore, Ced."
Cedric threw Harry an unreadable look and Blaise, who was still asleep on the floor, a warmer one.
The process of cleaning everyone up was a long one. No one was allowed to shower or, in fact, leave the room until Eric had given them a thorough looking over. He didn't comment on Blaise's total lack of physical damage, except to say that she'd indeed chipped a tooth. All Blaise said was, "What, really? Definitely worth waking me up for," before she rolled over and went back to sleep.
Eventually, they were bandaged and potioned to Eric's scrupulous satisfaction. Then Kendal allowed them to leave in groups of two to use the two washrooms the flat afforded for showers. He had Alex, who seemed to be the flat's resident housewife, perform cleaning charms on their clothing while they showered.
)PvsM(
"Mmm," Ginny hummed when she emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of scented steam. She sat down on the hearth rug with her back to the fireplace and shook her hair out, hoping the thick curls would dry before she went to bed. Reaching out, she snatched a dinner roll from the low table by the sofa, where Alex had spread a veritable feast of finger food during Ginny's turn in the bathroom.
She took a big bite of roll, ignoring the rain of crumbs down her front. Though they had eaten prior to the dragon attack, she found she was suddenly starving. She tucked into a second roll before she'd finished the first. At least she wasn't as bad as her nephew, who had three in one fist and was dipping them in a jar of marmalade. Tristan's nose wrinkled and she prodded him in the stomach.
Ginny opened her mouth to tell her nephew to be a gentleman (since she was apparently born to be a middle-aged mum, she thought she might as well start immediately and enjoy it a bit) when one of the bathroom doors opened and Draco stepped out.
Draco's pale hair hung in platinum waves around his face and neck. He'd borrowed one of Kendal's button-down shirts, since his jumper and shirt had been destroyed by the dragons. He'd only half-buttoned the shirt and the thin material clung to the damp skin of his stomach.
Ginny turned quickly away and closed her eyes, leaning forward to hug her knees.
So it was starting.
She'd known, since she'd first discovered Hayden was her son and Draco's, that someday she'd have to see something in him that called to her. She realized as she pressed her closed eyes against her knees that she was starting to see it now. Nothing monumental, just the appeal of his shower-fresh body in jeans and a blue oxford. She knew it would probably get worse from here. She knew her own mind.
Physical attraction first, emotional attraction second, love third.
"Sitting in the coals, Weasel?" The drawl was stronger than usual. "Haven't you just bathed yourself?"
"Can't you tell the difference, Malfoy?" she retorted, turning her face away from him as he settle beside her on the hearth. When he stayed beside her, she snapped, "What do you want?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," came the surprising answer in a discontented tone.
"I don't feel like guessing games." She stared into the blazing fire, her long hair sliding across her shoulders and curtaining her face. "Why can't you just be nice to me?" she demanded after a moment. "Why is it that you're always looking for a reason to hurt me? Or when you're not, you're trying to get me to shag you?"
"Don't flatter yourself," he growled. The potion Eric had given him had turned his voice into the soft hum of healthy lungs and throat.
"I'm not!" Ginny insisted, finally turning to look at him. His shirt was still unbuttoned and he was smirking at her through a fall of blond hair. "You keep insinuating things and cornering me and insulting me. If you didn't give a damn about me, you'd never go to this much bother. Make up your mind because I'm bloody well tired of the whiplash!"
She got up and stomped over to the sofa, throwing herself in a seat by Harry and crossing her arms.
"Hi, Gin." Harry smiled in a faintly amused way.
"Hi." She gave him a passable smile. "Feels nice not to be covered in mud and twigs, doesn't it?"
"Wonderful. Also nice to breathe without feeling like my lungs are being slashed by knives." Harry sighed.
"I know what you mean, sort of," Ginny said, glancing down at her soft hands. "Eric did a really good job on me and Tristan. It's like our hands were never hurt. I wonder where he works. Talent like his shouldn't be wasted."
"Speaking of talent ..." Harry glanced sideways at her. "You seem to have a knack for hacking Malfoy right off. What did you say to him before coming over here?"
Ginny glanced down at the blonde, who was still seated with his back to the fire. Grey eyes locked with brown for a long, intense moment. Ginny bit her lip and looked away.
"I don't know what he's playing at, actually," she said loudly enough for him to hear. He looked unimpressed. Only his tense hands, flexing and relaxing against the hearth rug, told her he cared at all.
"I do." Harry gave her a look Ginny recognized. She did have six older brothers. She always forgot about Harry, who might as well have been the seventh.
"How do you know?" she asked, nudging him. "You're nothing like Dr – like Malfoy. You don't throw your ego around, acting like girls think you're Merlin. You don't manipulate people. How can you possibly understand what Malfoy's playing at?"
"Look, Gin," he said. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm a bloke and I'm not blind."
He smiled at her, nudging back. "You're very attractive. Not just how you look but how you act. You're incredibly appealing and you'd have to be one of your brothers, your dad, or gay not to see it."
Ginny smiled, blushing a little. "Thanks."
"Just an observation," Harry said. "And I don't happen to think of you like that," he added hastily, glancing involuntarily toward the bathroom door behind which Blaise was showering.
"I know!" Ginny said quickly.
"Anyway," Harry went on, relaxing a little. "Malfoy's not blind, either. He knows a good thing when he sees it and he always wants the best. He's spent enough time with you by now to – well, to realize that he wants you and to realize he can't just take you like he does almost everything he wants." He smirked at the blond, who had turned his back on them to face the fire. "It's driving him mad that you don't want him. Or at least," Harry added, eyeing her closely, "that you don't seem to. You know you're going to wind up together in the future and here you are, choosing your own destiny and leaving him wondering what the hell he's supposed to do now."
"I'm a thing to him?" Ginny said in a small voice.
"I think he'd like you to be," Harry said honestly. "It's so much easier to cope with objects than people. That might be part of his problem. Maybe he's realizing he wants the girl, not the trophy wife."
Ginny thought it all sounded too good to be true. "Why would he treat me this badly and throw all these weird signals at me if he wanted me?" she wondered. "All it ever does is piss me off."
"Obviously," Harry said, stifling a chuckle under his hand. He glanced up as Blaise emerged from the bathroom. She glanced back and forth between Ginny and Harry, her face tightening. Harry gave her an exasperated look and Ginny pointed at him behind his back and rolled her eyes expressively at Blaise. The Slytherin paused, saw the look, and her face relaxed into a hesitant smile. She circle the couch and went to sit by Draco.
"Anyway, Gin," Harry went on in a low voice. "I reckon it's going to take time. He's going to have to stop playing around and start making a real effort. When he does that he's going to have to take a risk that you'll still say no and that," Harry said with finality, "is a bloody terrifying risk."
"You think he's capable of taking it?" Ginny asked.
"Dunno," Harry admitted. "I think he's getting attached to Hayden. And I've seen the way he looks at you."
Ginny blushed, ducking her head.
"Nice shade of maroon, Weasley," he murmured. She swatted his leg.
"Have a nice snog with Zabini earlier?" Ginny threw back. She grinned a moment later. "Nice shade of puce, Potter."
"Oh-ho, aren't you a laugh?" he grumbled, toying with the frayed cuff of his jumper. He slanted a look at her out of the corner of his eye. "What?"
She shook her head and smiled. Dropping her voice and glancing at the Slytherins by the fire, she murmured, "What's going on with you and Zabini? Do you fancy her?"
"Well," Harry said slowly. "She's a fantastic snog."
Ginny slammed him over the head with a throw cushion. "Harry Potter, you'd better be joking!"
"Sorry, sorry, I am!" He held up his hands to block the cushion. "Get off, Weasley, it was a joke!"
Ginny gave him a shrewd look and settled the pillow beside her on the sofa. She caught Draco and Blaise turning back to the fire, their expressions unreadable. She wondered what they both thought of the exchange. Ginny supposed you had to have a proper family to understand the difference between flirting and teaching your adoptive brother a lesson about being a chauvinist pig.
"Out with it," Ginny ordered, cross her arms.
"Well," Harry started again, his voice still low. "She is a great snog, but there's more. I can't explain – I don't know what it is, but I'm really attracted to her – I think – I dunno," he finished, looking lost and out of his element. "It wasn't until the troll thing – watching her jump onto the trolls back to save her – to save our – daughter. I've never seen anything like that and it – it reminded me of what my mum did for me." He swallowed.
Ginny patted his arm. "Makes sense," she said. "And Zabini's – well, she's not who I thought she was."
"Is anyone, really?" Harry mused.
"Oh, that's deep," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.
"I don't know if it's because I know we're supposed to have children together and that I'm supposed to love her someday," Harry said in a rushed murmur, ignoring her smart-arsed remark. "I don't know if it's because fate's shoving me at her or her at me. But I do know that I like her. And I like our children. A lot." He looked down at his sleeves again. "I never had a proper family and if things play out, she's going to give me one of my own." He looked at Tristan and Cedric. They were stuffed into a large armchair, Cedric's long arms cradling his sleeping sister against his broad chest. He had tucked a blanket around her and ran one hand absently over her long hair as he held a book he was reading with the other.
"They're incredible," Ginny said, a smile tugging at her lip. "And I think, despite what we've seen, you'll make a lovely father to them someday."
Harry tipped his head briefly against hers. "Thanks," Harry said simply. He glanced down at the hearth rug, where Blaise was sitting with her back to the fire. He caught her eye and she looked quickly away.
"Oh, go on," Ginny said, nudging him. "Get yourselves sorted out and get with the baby making."
"Ginny!" Harry said in loud, shocked tones.
Ginny giggled and kicked a foot at him. He skipped out of the way and went to sit on Blaise's other side. Draco sneered and pushed himself to his feet. When he sat down beside an unsurprised Ginny, he excused himself by saying he didn't want to get caught up in a "touching scene."
Ginny shook her head at him, mind clearer after her talk with Harry, and threw Draco into a spaz by asking what he thought of Hayden's ex-girlfriend, Moreen Abbot-Finch-Fletchley.
)PvsM(
His dreams were strange and disjointed and his awakening was exactly the same. Draco's eyes snapped open in the dark, though his awareness took a moment to catch up. Then he had to remember how to work his limbs. This bodily coordination accomplished, he glanced around the dark, still room. What had woken him?
He found the answer a moment later. Blaise sat in the window seat, a blanket around her shoulders. She stared out in the dark streets of London, humming softly to herself as she traced a pattern against the glass with her fingers.
Draco watched her for a moment. He had known, back at Hogwarts, that she didn't sleep much. She never looked tired, especially. Once he'd asked her and she'd shrugged and said, "I guess I don't need to."
Her song became a mixture of humming and words. It wasn't a song Draco recognized, though he remembered finding her alone in the Slytherin common room one night, humming the same nameless tune and staring out an enchanted window.
"What the hell are you singing for?" he hissed across the room. He hadn't surprised her – she turned an unconcerned look at him. "Mind shutting up so us mere mortals can sleep?"
"I would, actually," she said, and continued her song. With no sign of it ending in sight, Draco snorted and got to his feet. He crossed to the window and leaned against it, glaring out at Muggle London. He shivered, chilled by the cool air away from the hearth.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you that if you keep making that face, it'll stick that way?" Blaise asked after a moment's silence.
"What difference would it make?" he retorted, running a hand over his hair. "I look good no matter what face I'm making."
"I just thought Weasley might appreciate something a bit more sincere," Blaise said innocently. "She doesn't seem the type to go in for bad boys."
"Aside from the fact that I could care less what that carrot-topped runt thinks of my face, I don't smile," he said. "Sincerity is extremely overrated."
"Not by everyone." The words were so quiet, he hardly caught them.
"Honestly, Blaise?" he said, his lip curling. "You really think this little fairy tale is going to come true?"
"How's it a fairytale for me?" she wanted to know. "Far as I can tell, the only one it ends well for is you." She pressed her lips together, a thin white line against her pale face. "And Weasley."
"That's never going to happen."
"How's your son going to exist, then?"
"He's not – " Draco began, then paused. He glanced involuntarily at the blond boy, a little replica of Draco himself, who lay curled on the rug near his mother. Draco couldn't see his face in the dark of the room but he could hear his gentle, even breathing.
"He's not what? Important?" Blaise asked softly. She shook her head at him. "Spare me. I know what it's like."
"You know what what's like?" he demanded, his voice thin and soft in the dark. "This isn't your life, Blaise. It's some illusion, some future we don't know anything about that has nothing to do with us."
"It has everything to do with us!" Blaise whispered fiercely. "You saw yourself and Weasley, together and happy. I've seen – " She broke off, staring down at her hands, which trembled in her lap.
"What?" Draco asked, sitting down across from her on the window seat. He didn't want to have this conversation but something inside him that he didn't recognize held him in his seat.
"Look what I've done," Blaise murmured, gesturing carelessly in the direction of the sleeping group on the floor. "My husband – the older one – is a very dangerous man. I don't know how Tristan's grown up anything less than a monster. Must spend a lot of time with Dorian and Hayden's families. My son is practically estranged from his father and spends the best part of his life roaming around looking for me." She forced a whisper of a laugh that sounded hurt and strained. "And I've apparently lost my mind and run off with Neville Longbottom."
"And that's my point!" Draco said, suddenly remembering why he still refused to believe all this rubbish. "You running off with Fatbottom? Potter going insane with grief and becoming a monster? I hate the bastard, but I don't want him going mad either." He leaned forward, staring into her unsettling purple eyes. "Blaise, this doesn't have to be real. These kids, this future. It doesn't have to exist. None of it. It's our choice, it's not written in stone because we've seen it. Now we know, can't we change it? I don't want to marry Ginny bleeding Weasley and I assume your interest in Potter is some weird throwback to that fling you had with Teddy Nott a few years ago. It's hormones. Who gives a damn about any of it?"
Blaise bit her lip. "I'm not sure I want it to change."
Something inside Draco shied away, hiding behind the idea that Blaise had probably been driven round the proverbial bend by this whole nightmare. Maybe some sort of vertigo psychosis from jumping off cliffs. Maybe post-traumatic stress from staring down the gullet of a dragon not six hours ago.
"They're not real," he gritted through his teeth. "They're not wanted."
Blaise focused on him. "Who?"
"Those damned kids," he hissed through his teeth. "Get a grip, Zabini, they're not important! They won't even exist if we sort this time line out properly. If they don't exist, they can't die! Problem solved."
"You – you don't want us?"
They both turned, startled. Tristan Potter stood just inside the little square of light coming through the window. Without her ridiculous specs, she looked younger, more vulnerable. Much less the Slytherin ice queen she thought she had to be.
"This future is a mistake," Draco told her flatly, his voice a whisper. "Your ruddy family is a perfect example of why none of this should ever happen."
"That's enough, Draco!" Blaise's voice was razor sharp, though low enough not to wake anyone. She glared at him. "Whether or not this future is – whether we like it or not, we're here and this is real."
She glanced quickly at her daughter. Tristan's large eyes were over-bright, and she bit her lip.
"I don't understand," she said slowly, swallowing. "You came here to save us."
"Potter came here to save you," Draco muttered. "You can thank him."
"I said that's enough!" Blaise repeated, eyes boring into Draco's. "Stop hurting people to make yourself feel better."
"That's rich," Draco said, but he was too shaken to stay there arguing with her. He turned and threw himself down into his bedroll. He pulled the blankets up around his ears and tried to block out the whole nightmare.
"Draco?"
The small, sleep-fogged voice startled him. He rolled onto his stomach and met Ginny's eyes through the gloom.
"It's okay," she said. He realized she was only half-awake, her eyelids heavy and her speech sluggish. "It's okay, don't be afraid."
"I'm not ..." He began and paused.
"Shh," she whispered, reaching out a hand and running it over his hair. "It's okay. Sleep now."
He didn't mean to relax into his pillow as her long fingers brushed hair off his forehead, ran the length of his cheekbones. He didn't mean to close his eyes and smell the scent of fresh baked bread and chocolate and toothpaste that lingered on her fingertips. He didn't mean ...
)PvsM(
Tristan took a deep breath and didn't look at her mother. She was not going to cry. Tears were fine, but her voice wouldnot break and her face would remain calm. She was an ice queen – no one could see her weakness.
"I know he's supposed to be your godfather," Blaise said after a long, uncomfortable silence. "But give him a few decades to sort himself out, yeah?"
"Is it true?" Tristan forced herself to ask, holding her voice steady like she might hold a bucking broomstick in a windstorm. "You still don't want us? This future? I mean, I knew you were all terrified when you first turned up, but I thought maybe ..." She had to stop as her voice broke.
"I don't – " Blaise began, then paused. "You shouldn't listen to Draco when he's upset," she said at last. "He shouldn't have been talking like that."
"Is it true?" Tristan repeated slowly. "Will you give up this future when you manage to get home? Will you avoid it, not marry my dad or have Cedric and me?"
Blaise was silent for so long, Tristan wondered if she would ever answer. "I don't know, Tristan," she said at last. "I'm a seventeen year old schoolgirl. I haven't even sorted out where I'm going to uni next year. I don't know if I'd survive the war against You-Know-Who or if I'll ever get to play professional Quidditch." She wasn't good at apologies or explanations, Tristan was sure. But she was trying, which was more than Tristan's real mum had ever done.
"I think I get it," she said at last, and felt a little better in spite of herself.
"You think?" Blaise glanced up at her with an unreadable expression.
"Well." Tristan floundered for words. Now that she and Blaise seemed on more friendly terms, Tristan suddenly felt the need to keep it that way. "Seeing your own future is like being told you don't have a choice. You're stuck, this is how things are, and you don't control your own destiny." Tristan shrugged. "If it were me, I'd be fighting it for all I was worth. My dad always taught me I got to decide my own fate."
"Yeah – yeah, that's it exactly." Blaise looked very unsure. Tristan was a little taken aback. Whether or not she liked Blaise, she sort of thought of Blaise as a grown-up, despite the fact they were nearly the same age now. This girl would be Tristan's mum – seeing her unsettled and without a clue what to do made Tristan both sympathetic and uneasy.
"I don't know how I could hurt him like that." Blaise's voice was low. "Potter, I mean. I don't actually know him that well, but he's – he's a good person and clearly loves you very much." She scowled into the street below. "Anyway, what was I thinking, running off with that fat-ass Longbottom?"
"Well – there's actually not solid proof that that's what happened." Tristan sat slowly down beside Blaise on the window seat. "I mean, like I told everyone, I translated your letter to Dad back when Ced went off to his first year at Hogwarts. There wasn't any part that said, 'I'm shagging Longbottom and we've gone off to a condo in Tahiti.' It was all about you and Longbottom having a mission and you weren't sure how long it would take. I think the problem was – well, Dad was – " Tristan sighed, frustrated.
"It was easy to jump to conclusions," Blaise finished for her. "Maybe at first a mission sounded plausible, but when years started to go by, it was just easier to believe I'd run off, fallen for someone else."
"Cedric said Dad loved you more than anything," Tristan said haltingly. "He said the way Dad used to look at you, it was like he was seeing the sun rise over the sea for the first time." She sighed, trying to remind herself that this girl wasn't her mum yet. "You meant everything to him. When you left, you took a part of him with you."
"He – he couldn't possibly have loved me that much," Blaise whispered. Tristan couldn't see her face clearly without her glasses, but she could see the tense line of her mum's jaw and her wide, startled eyes as she turned to stare across the room at Tristan's dad.
"Cedric said he did." Tristan paused. "Why do you think your leaving unhinged him? Oh, don't look surprised," she added. "I'm not blind, however much I love him." She stopped, grinning a little. "Well, I am blind, but that's not the point."
Blaise actually chuckled and to her amazement, Tristan felt a brief pressure on her hand. It was quick, but warmth spread up her arm. For the first time in her life, Tristan wondered what it was like to have a mother – another woman who knew what she felt and understood how she thought. Aunt Mione and Aunt Gin were good at that, of course, but they weren't Tristan's. They were on loan from her adoptive cousins.
She suddenly realized she had Blaise back, however briefly. She had proven tonight that she did care for Tristan, despite everything Tristan's dad had told her to the contrary. Perhaps more than a bit, Tristan dared to hope.
Taking a deep breath, she ventured, "I miss having a mum. I mean, I don't miss it exactly because I don't remember what it was like. But I wish ... " She trailed off. A moment of silence, and then the pressure on her hand returned.
"Look," Blaise said softly. "I'm no good at sentimental rubbish, but I seriously doubt I would have left Potter and my family without a good reason. What in the world could possibly be more important that you and Cedric?"
Tristan blinked. "I don't know."
"Exactly," Blaise said.
"What about Dad?" Tristan asked tentatively.
"What about him?"
"Do you love him?"
Blaise rolled her eyes. "A few days ago he was a Gryffindork and I was a Slytherin ice queen," she pointed out. "Don't rush me."
Tristan giggled.
"Anyway, I know if I ever did fall in love with him, which I haven't," she added sternly, "I'd never leave him for Neville Longbottom. What a squib!"
"Oh, he is not."
They both looked up. Harry Potter stood just outside the square of light cut by the window frame.
"He is," Blaise retorted, her lip curling. "Should have been in Hufflepuff."
"He's brave," Harry insisted, and Tristan saw his blurry outline come to a halt beside her. "He took on Crabbe and Goyle our first year."
"He didn't!" Blaise stared up at him.
"He did." Harry nodded. "Ron gave him a talk about not letting people walk all over him, and I told him he was 'worth twelve of Malfoy' or something and he thought he was invincible." He shrugged. "Ask Malfoy, if you don't believe me."
"Sounds like you," Blaise said, her lip curling up in a smile.
"Thank you, I take that as a compliment." Harry's glasses were on the table with Tristan's, his eyes a bit unfocused like hers. He frowned. "Everything okay?"
"We're fine," Tristan said. "We're just ..."
"I'm warning her away from fat-arse Gryffindorks," Blaise said, her smile widening. "It's my duty as her mum."
"Oh, how clever you are." Harry nudged her toward Tristan on the window seat and turned slightly to stare out the window. Tristan realized Blaise's hand was still wrapped around hers. Tristan wrapped both hands around her mum's, letting herself hold on a little too tight. Blaise stared at her, surprised. She didn't pull her hand away. Tristan blinked hard and looked at her dad. He had been watching the two of them. He rested a hand on Blaise's shoulder and the three of them sat quietly, staring out into the quiet street below.
The quiet was deceptive, Tristan knew. Soho was alive twenty-four hours a day. Even at two in the morning. Her blurred vision traveled over the people passing under the street lights below. She saw a scantly clad young woman hanging on a handsome young man and a couple who were kissing, pressed up against a wall. Nearby, a group of kids Tristan's age shouted with laughter about something, sharing chips from a basket.
Tristan's came to rest on a figure standing motionless by the building. She might have missed him entirely, he was standing so close to the building; the building's shadowed draped over him, blending him into the night. She almost looked away.
A gleam of something flashed in the lamplight. A lock of brilliant red hair . . .
Tristan's eyes sharpened. She slipped from the seat, snatching her glasses from the table and hurrying back to the window.
"What is it?" Blaise asked, glancing up at her.
Tristan didn't answer right away, but leaned forward. The lone figure had been joined by a second with hunched shoulders and wild hair that blended with the dark shadows. She blinked and a third figure, long blond hair tied neatly back, joined the others. Beside that figure stood a fourth, red hair matching the first man's exactly.
"Dad!" Tristan whispered, horrified.
"What?" Harry asked, his eyes on another part of the street.
"No – Dad!" Tristan breathed, pointing.
Blaise glanced at her in surprise and followed her gaze. A moment later, she sat bolt upright. Harry, who had disappeared from her side for a moment, returned wearing his own glasses.
"Bloody hell! We've been found!" Blaise whispered. "We've got to get out of here – now!"
"But how did they find us? Ced talked about this place like it was a fortress," Tristan protested. Not that it mattered – they'd been found, fortress of not.
"They're Unspeakables," Harry said, getting to his feet and moving to wake the others. "They've probably all kinds of ways of getting passed wards."
"Like blood magic," Blaise murmured, following him across the room. "They're all related to at least one person in the group biologically. Unspeakables are above the law and if Potter thinks we're going to hurt Tristan – "
She didn't need to finish. Tristan and Harry shared a look – they knew what Unspeakable Harry was capable of and that he was a bit mad.
Tristan felt sick. She had always known that, eventually, she'd have to return to her father. She just always assumed she'd have found Dumbledore or Mum or something by then. Something to convince him not to lock her in her room. Or yell at her. If she were caught now, she'd be in so much trouble! She hurried to her aunt's side.
"Aunt Gin!"
"Tristan? What – " Ginny sat up, rubbing her eyes. Beside her, Draco groaned at them all to shut up.
"What is it?" Cedric was wide awake, already on his feet beside Harry. Always prepared.
"We've been found," Harry said shortly. "The four Unspeakables, as best we can tell, just outside the building. They found us here – they might be able to get inside."
"Let's not panic." Cedric moved to help them get the others up. "They're Unspeakables, yeah, but they're also our parents. They'd look up my old friends if they thought there was anything in it. Uncle Draco probably tracked Kendal down, knowing I'd have to go to him if we had problems. They could've made a lucky guess."
"Right," Draco muttered, now wide awake and scrambling to his feet. "Lucky guesses."
"Hayden!" Tristan knelt by her godbrother, too wound up to glare at him. "Get up, Malfoy!"
"Go 'way, Potter." Hayden's tousled hair appeared, gray eyes blinking sleepily up at her.
"We're so dead; our parents are here!" she hissed. "Get up, we're leaving."
"Fuck!" Hayden sat bolt-upright, knocking Tristan backward. "My dad's going to – fuck!"
"Hayden, that's enough," Ginny said sharply.
"Keep a civil tongue in your head, boy," Draco added, then looked properly horrified at himself.
"I'm going to get Ken," Cedric said, hurrying out of the room.
"Where're we going?" Dorian asked, wide-eyed.
"Back on the road, obviously," Blaise said, already gathering rucksacks in the middle of the room. Hayden and Tristan moved together to help her, grabbing as much food as they could manage from the leftovers on the tables by the fire.
"I'll get our cloaks." Dorian disappeared into the entry.
" – out the roof." Kendal reappeared beside Cedric, looking properly alarmed at the idea of four Unspeakables on his doorstep, for all his talk of living on the edge. "The only way to get up there is through the flat. No Apparating or Portkeys. There's a fire escape ladder that only works going down – magic," he added simply when Blaise raised her eyebrows. "Get down that way and head for the subway station two blocks south of here."
"Where do we go from the station?" Ginny asked anxiously, her eyes wide as she replenished the first aid kits with the help of Eric, sleep-tousled but as wide awake as Kendal.
"Knockturn Alley," Kendal said grimly. "There's a trap door built into one of the loos in a station near King's Cross."
"Charming," Draco muttered.
Tristan shivered. They always joked about going into Knockturn Alley but ...
"We won't be there long," Cedric promised, ruffling her hair in passing. He and Kendal began magicking all the bedding into neat piles, floating all evidence of the eight people in the room into different parts of the flat. Nothing to give the Unspeakables even a hint that their query had ever been here.
Because they'd get into the flat eventually, Tristan was sure. Kendal wouldn't be able to stop them – just stall for enough time to get them into Knockturn Alley.
"Yeah, we'll head there for a bit of a makeover," Cedric was saying. "We can't risk being seen in Diagon Alley until Harry Potter looks completely unlike himself – in fact, we'll all have to look totally different. We can't do the magic here – no time. But the Unspeakables shouldn't be able to trace us once we're in with so many other wizards – the magics will be too hard to separate."
"Come on, you've got to move." Kendal began handing out shoes (clean of mud and dirt, thank god – the footprints on the carpet would be hard to miss) and cloaks. Everyone took a rucksack. Harry and Cedric checked for cloaks, Marauders' Map, and brooms –
The buzzer went. Everyone froze. After a moment, Kendal moved slowly to the box by the door. He reached slowly out, making a slashing motion across his throat. Everyone stayed motionless, hardly daring to breathe.
"What?" Kendal croaked into the box, sounding like he'd just rolled out of bed`.
"Hello up there."
Tristan shivered. She felt Hayden, close beside her, gasp and then swallow hard. His fist, clenching and unclenching, brushed Tristan's arm.
"Yes, can I help you?" Kendal ground out. He quirked a finger. Cedric turned silently, moving toward the kitchen doorway. He disappeared, then reappeared and motioned everyone toward him. Ginny went first, shuffling as quietly as she could. The others followed, single file.
"I hope so," Tristan's uncle Draco said casually, as though he were negotiating a price on a broomstick rather than knocking at someone's door at three in the morning. "My name's Malfoy. I'm with the Unspeakables. I was wondering if my friends and I could come up and have a look around."
"Why in Merlin's name would you and your friends want to look around my sodding flat at this time of night?" Ken snapped as Eric disappeared into one of the bedrooms with the last of the extra mess from the sitting room. Tristan slid along the carpet, testing each step to make sure nothing creaked or cracked or groaned under her boot. One loose board would tell her uncle and her father and whoever else was out there all they needed to know.
"We're conducting a search." Draco's voice was still light, conversational. Tristan threw a look over her shoulder at Hayden and Dorian. Their eyes were wide and they shared a look of sheer panic. Calm Uncle Draco was the scariest Uncle Draco. "We have this funny feeling you might be able to help us, as our problem involves your friend Cedric Potter."
Cedric Potter motioned for them to hurry up. Tristan risked a faster shuffle, squeezing into the kitchen after Dorian.
"What's Ced done this time?" Kendal sounded amused. "Haven't seen him in ages. Did he rob Gringotts? It's been on his to-do list since Hogwarts." He sent a final gesture at Cedric, who stilled and motioned the others to do the same for a moment.
"I'm sure he's capable of that," Uncle Draco murmured. Cedric rolled his eyes, moving forward and closing the kitchen door. Then he squeezed passed the rest of them and opened a door that looked like it might belong to the pantry. Instead, it led through a narrow hallway to a dark set of narrower stairs.
As Tristan hurried after the others through the hallway, she heard her uncle's voice said coolly, "Do you know how long I've been an Unspeakable, young man? Long enough to know when I'm being lied to. But since we're playing games, I'll tell you exactly what Cedric has done. He's pulled you into his little quest by asking you to harbor him, my son, my nephew, his sister, and four other teens as fugitives. He's told you some drivel about finding Albus Dumbledore and claims to be protecting his sister and cousin from a madman. Now, I suggest you let us in right now before Cedric's father breaks down your front door. He will probably destroy your flat in a fit of rage and I'm very good at getting him out of legal battles with the Ministry because I've had so much practice – "
Tristan winced and hoped her father didn't hurt anyone. Or anyone's flat. That was hardly fair on Kendal. She squeezed up the stairway after Dorian. Cedric, in front, pushed open a trap door and helped everyone out onto the roof.
"Ced, what if Kendal can't hold them off?" Harry demanded, following him to the edge of the building and hefting his rucksack higher on his shoulders.
"He'll manage," Cedric assured them. "He's had an alibi worked out since we arrived, count on it. He's not a free man for nothing, you know." Tristan grinned in spite of herself. Kendal was definitely not a criminal. He just broke rules that didn't work for him. And he helped others do the same. Tristan had grown up on stories about Kendal and Cedric's adventures at Hogwarts (catch her admitting that to her dad!).
Glancing over the edge of the building, Tristy had to bite down a gasp. The apartment complex was only six floors or so but there was difference between that height on a state-of-the-art broom and a rickety metal ladder that looked as though it could have done with replacing twenty years ago.
"Right." Cedric looked around at them all. "Here's the plan. Everyone see that blue and red sign, two blocks from here?"
Tristan squinted; she could just make it out.
"That's the Piccadilly Circus station," Cedric said. "In order to get to the station that has our entrance into Knockturn Alley, we're going to have to catch a train to a station near King's Cross. Try to stay together but if anyone gets separated, we'll meet outside King's Cross and walk back from there." He handed around little slips of paper. "Kendal keeps emergency Underground tickets lying around. You have to have this to get on the train – don't lose it!"
"I'll go first," Harry piped up. He vaulted over the edge of the building after a quick look down at the empty street below.
"I'm next," Blaise said quickly, hurrying to follow. Tristan saw her swallow hard before climbing over the edge and descending after Harry. "Tristan," she called up. "You next."
Tristan felt a warm glow in her chest; it worked its way around the fear flickering there.
"Go on, Tris." Cedric motioned her forward. "And then you, Den. Then Ian."
"You're just hoping I'll catch her again," Hayden complained. "We just got my shoulder sorted."
"Sod off – I wished I'd torn your arm off!" Tristan snapped. She clambered over the edge of the building, careful not to look down.
"Scared, Potter?" Hayden's cool voice kept her from pausing.
"You wish," she murmured.
"Don't enjoy watching my bum too much," Hayden said, following her down.
"As though I'd look," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're so common, Malfoy."
"Would you two shut up? We're going to get caught and hung by our guts from Uncle Harry's rafters," Dorian hissed from above them.
Tristan grunted and climbed faster. It was easier than she'd thought, not having to look down but instead facing a building wall.
"Almost there, Tris." Her father and mother waited at the bottom, supporting her as she stepped off the last rung.
"Thanks," she said.
"Let's never do that again," Dorian said, as he stepped off the ladder and helped Ginny down after him. Tristan saw the tell-tale sweat on his upper lip. She patted his arm. Draco and Cedric hopped down.
"We have to go in pairs," Cedric murmured. "Stick to the shadows – if they're inside the apartment, they'll be able to see the station sign and anyone under or near the street signs. Tris and Den, you'll go first."
"Why?" they demanded at the same time.
"Don't argue with him, just go!" Harry said. "We'll be right behind you."
"Hurry up, Potter!" Hayden grabbed Tristan's hand and pulled her into a run. They ducked across the street, hugging the side of a block of flats and trying to slide unnoticed under street lights.
"We have to cross the street," Tristan pointed out, not letting go of his hand. She thought up several nasty retorts to throw at him later when he would inevitably make fun of her for it.
"Let's wait until we're across from the station," Hayden suggested. "If we give everyone else away before they have a chance to get away from the building, it won't matter if we make it to the station or not. Oh, that's inconspicuous," he added with a look at her. "Good job keeping it Muggle, Tris." She glanced down, realizing for the first time she was wearing her very full-length witch's traveling cloak in Muggle London. A glance at Hayden showed that he'd thought to store his in his rucksack.
"My bad," she admitted, her breath short from the run. "I wasn't really thinking about Muggles. I just knew I'd be cold and I think I lost my jumper somewhere."
"I brought an extra jumper," Hayden panted, not looking at her. "You could have borrowed that."
She bit her lip and didn't look at him. "How would I have known that?" she demanded after a moment's awkward silence. They reached the end of the block, ducking out of the shadows long enough to hurry across the street and down the deserted station steps. "Since when have we even borrowed each others' clothes? Anyway, you hate me and – "
"I don't hate you." The admission was so quiet that Tristan, panting, almost missed it. But it completely threw her off and she nearly tripped over the next step. Hayden's hand tightened around hers.
"You – you don't?"
"No," he murmured uncomfortably. "I just – don't like you very much."
"Oh, I see." Something unpleasant slipped into Tristan's stomach. She dropped his hand. "What a comfort."
They found the barriers leading into the station and withdrew their tickets. Ginny and Draco appeared coming down the steps just meters behind them. Tristan stuck her card into the slot and was pleased when a little green light winked on the barrier opened, leaving a space just wide enough for her to squeeze through.
"What were you expecting me to say?" Hayden demanded, sorting out his own card and following her through.
"Oh, I wasn't expecting anything," she said coldly. "Why should I? You'd only let me down, as usual."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, right." She turned away, balling her hands into fists and swallowing. "What a shock for you – the idea that you let me down."
"I'm not the one who ruined our friendship," he snapped. "You did that!"
Tristan turned on him, peripherally aware that the other groups were coming through the barrier. "Here's a little something to think about, Malfoy," she said through her teeth. "Who really suffered who I got sorted – not by choice – into Slytherin? I mean, really. Who paid the price? Think about that, why don't you!"
She hurried to Cedric's side. He caught her hand without seeing her face and pulled her along with him toward the trains.
"Thank Merlin you're safe," he murmured. He frowned. "Muggles are giving us funny looks. Why are you wearing a cloak?"
"Shut up – I was cold." She swallowed hard and told herself to pull it together.
"I packed an extra jumper for you," Cedric said, squeezing her hand. "Why didn't you ask me, little girl? You know I'm going to take care of you."
"Oh, Ced, please stop." Tristan sniffled and glared ahead through fogging glasses.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"Nothing," she snapped as he led her down a moving stairway and onto a waiting train. The others followed close behind and Tristan buried her head in Cedric's shoulder, her glasses hanging in her hand at her side.
"Three stops," Cedric told them, cradling Tristan against him with one arm and holding onto a handle with another. "No one fall asleep."
"How's your shoulder, Hayden?" Tristan heard Ginny ask.
"Good as new, Mum," he said, sounding a little distracted.
"I'm glad. You tell me if it acts up," she ordered.
"Mum," Hayden stressed, his embarrassment evident.
"Don't fuss, Weasley," Draco said, sounding just like Tristan's Uncle Draco and making her smile a tiny smile.
"Tristan?"
Tristan peeked around Cedric's shoulder. Blaise stood nearby, watching her.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, surprised and pleased to be asked. "Just – it's nothing."
"If you're sure ..."
"I mean," she said, faltering. After all, it wasn't like her real mum had been around to help her deal with the Hayden issue. "I'm not but – I can deal."
"Yeah, well," Blaise said, a knowing expression in her eyes. "So can I. But you don't have to, you know. It's – it's okay to ask for help."
"From you?" Tristan asked before she could stop herself.
"If I can help," Blaise said slowly. "I'd like to."
"Thanks." Tristan dried her eyes on Cedric's collar, cleaned her spectacles on her handkerchief, and tried not to fall over at the subway car lurched along the track.
"Almost there, Ced?" Dorian actually yawned. Tristan supposed she ought to be exhausted, too.
"Eyes open, Ian," Cedric said, nudging him. "Come on, mate, no sleep until we can get out of London."
"Sleep, nothing," Dorian retorted with another ferocious yawn. "Feed me."
"Gods, boy, where the hell do you put it all?" Draco demanded. He sat very still in a bench by the door, looking a little green.
"I'm a growing lad – "
"Yeah, yeah, we know." Blaise winked at Tristan. Tristan replaced her glasses and managed a smile.
"Tris, come on." Cedric nudged her as the car lurched to a halt and she hurried after him out of the car. They climbed a set of stairs and followed Cedric through a large, deserted station.
"Let's go, I want to get this over with," Harry murmured as they walked, more to himself than anyone else. "I've only been to Knockturn Alley once and that was enough for me."
"What, afraid of the dark?" Draco said with a smirk.
"Uncle George says it's cool, though," Dorian said with another yawn. "Everything evil and ugly lives there."
"Oh, goody." Tristan exchanged a look with Ginny.
They followed Cedric passed a beggar and an old man smoking. The men's loo doorway they reached said "Out of Order" in a sloppy scrawl. Cedric pushed the squeaky door open and they all piled into the cramped space. Naturally, they were the only ones in there. As the door closed behind Ginny and Draco, Cedric turned to face them.
"Now listen carefully," he said. "I know some of you have been here, but this particular entrance is only known to a few people. It's difficult and we can only go through one at a time. Here's how it works. The name 'Knockturn' is actually a riddle. Not only does it imply night and darkness, but it's two distinct words – 'Knock' and 'Turn.' So what you're going to do is knock three times on this wall here," he indicated the one behind him, "and then turn it clockwise."
"Turn it?" Dorian said. "How do you turn a wall?"
"Like this." Cedric placed his hands on the wall, the left high and the right lower down. Then he slid his hands around in a circle, going clockwise as he's said. He stopped and straightened.
"I'm not going to go first because I want to make sure you all make it through." He looked around at them. "Who's first?"
"I'll go," Blaise, Harry, and Draco spoke up. Draco rolled his eyes.
"I'm going," he said firmly. "I know the Alley pretty well." Before anyone could object he stepped forward, knocked three times on the wall, and slid his hands around. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the wall seemed to melt backward into a spinning vortex of gray stone. Draco, his hands evidently stuck to the surface, began to spin. After three or four fast rotations, he was sucked into the whirlpool and the wall stopped spinning.
"All right, Mum, you next," Cedric said quickly. "I don't want anyone alone in there."
Tristan's mum came forward without hesitation, ignoring Harry's protests. She knocked, turned the wall, and vanished through. She was followed by Harry, Dorian, and Ginny.
"Go on, Tris." Cedric motioned her forward. Aware that Hayden was staring at her back, waiting for her to make a mistake, she strolled quickly up to the wall. Raising her hand, she rapped three times against the cold wall. Then she pushed her hands around. She felt as though something very strong was holding her against the wall. She felt the spinning and a strange feeling of liquidity. Then she fell forward.
"Tristan!" Her father had caught her against his chest. He set her gently back on her feet.
"I'm fine," she assured him, staring around at the dark, dingy alley into which she had fallen. "Wow."
"Home sweet home," Draco drawled.
"Oh, you've only been here twice," Blaise said, rolling her eyes. "It's not like you're some creature of the night or whatever you fancy yourself."
"He thinks a spot of evil makes him bad," Ginny said, wiggling her fingers in his face.
"Both of you can sod right off!" he said grouchily.
"Oof!"
Tristan felt something slam into her and she pitched forward, hitting the ground hard and feeling her breath leave her lungs in a whoosh of air.
"Bloody hell, Den, can't keep your hands off her for five seconds," came Dorian's amused voice. Tristan gasped a moment – when air gushed back into her chest a moment later, she groped around for a moment, searching for her glasses. She found them and slid them back onto her face.
"You all right?" Blaise and Harry appeared above her and helped her up. Tristan became aware of about eight of her mother reflected in the cracked left lens of her specs.
"Turn around, Tristan," Harry said, taking out his wand. "Oculus Reparo." The glass cleared, the eight Blaises resolving into one.
"After years with glasses, I finally had Hermione teach me that one," Harry explained, smiling at her.
"You taught me right before I started at Hogwarts," Tristan told him, dusting herself off and wincing at the series of bruises she could feel blossoming on her knees and elbows. "Nice aim, Malfoy," she added coldly. "And while my back was turned. Not a new strategy, but – "
"Tris." Cedric gave her a look, then turned a glare on his cousin. "No more touching, Malfoy."
"Oy!" Hayden howled. "She was blocking the entrance. Not my fault she didn't move." His lip curled at her.
"Poor Tristan, you're a mess!" Ginny gave her son an unimpressed look and hurried to help Tristan dust herself off. A mess, she was, and Tristan realized she'd fallen into a shallow puddle. She didn't dare look at Hayden, who must have been enjoying the sight. Ginny went to work with her wand ("We're safe to, now we're in magical London" Tristan's aunt reasoned) and Tristan felt a bit less like her recent shower had been totally wasted.
"Thanks, Aunt Gin. Mum," she added.
"Let's move," Cedric said. "I want to be at the entrance to Diagon Alley before we disguise ourselves. Then we'll have to wait it out until daylight. Can't wander around this early in the morning."
Hayden slid back to walk beside Tristan as they all hurried after Cedric. "Who knows when we're going to be showering next, so try to keep from playing in the mud until then," he said, malicious delight in the words.
"Try to keep your hands off me, if you can," she said coolly. "You touching me would be more a reason to shower than a little mud."
She left him muttering expletives behind her, the urge to cry fading into the old familiar urge to rip his tongue out.
A fine omen for the trip ahead ...
)PvsM(
TBC