A/N: I had a great time with this chapter, although I lost the original edit halfway through, owing to a USB malfunction. Now, though, it has a nicely reworked plot that fits much more effectively with the overall plot. Plus, it just reads six hundred times better! Hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good …(of course it's not ours!)
)PvsM(
"This way." Cedric led them down through Knockturn Alley, his stride sure. Ginny wondered how many times he'd come this way before. "We're going to need a dark alley, somewhere no one will catch us and where we can kip for a few hours before daybreak."
Ginny glanced around. "Take your pick," she mumbled, sidling closer to Harry. He'd been lost in Knockturn Alley by himself, the summer before Ginny's first year. By sound of it, Hagrid had only just saved him from a hag.
"We'll need something close to Diagon Alley," Harry pointed out, pushing his shoulder reassuringly against Ginny's. "If someone catches eight Hogwarts students wandering out of Knockturn Alley, we're finished."
"We're pretty close to Diagon Alley already," Cedric said. "Here, this'll do."
He led them into a cramped alleyway between two seedy shops. Ginny peered down the alley beyond and thought she saw the edge of Quality Quidditch Supplies, though it was hard to tell in the dark.
"We should go into Diagon Alley in pairs," Blaise said. She rubbed her hands over her arms as if chilled. However at-home Draco might pretend to be in Knockturn Alley, Blaise wasn't going to. "No one goes anywhere alone."
"Dad, you should go with Ced," Tristan spoke up from between Harry and Blaise. "All you need to do is change your hair and eye color and you could pass for brothers."
"Small matter of Uncle Harry's blindingly obvious scar," Dorian pointed out, yawning.
"Just straighten his fringe," Draco said grouchily. Ginny could tell he wished he were back in bed, almost as much as Dorian.
"She's right." Harry stepped forward to stand beside Cedric. Ginny studied them. So long as their hair and eye color changed to keep them inconspicuous, they'd be the spitting image of twin brothers.
"I think it would also be smart if Cedric didn't look quite so much like an escaped convict," Blaise added, tilting her head to one side. She sounded almost affectionate. "I'm thinking Hogwarts robes and blond hair."
Draco, Hayden, Tristan, and Dorian sniggered. Cedric and Harry both scowled at Blaise.
"What?" she demanded. "You two stand out like hyppogryffs in a flower garden. Turn you blond and you're practically invisible."
"Potter'll look like such a twat!" Draco was almost beside himself with delight, all grouchiness gone. Harry sent a rude gesture at him and then looked guiltily at Tristan.
"Nothing I haven't seen before, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes as she studied her father and brother. "Oh, hang on," she said a minute later, digging in her pocket. Looking back at her father, she grinned. "How'd you like to be a Slytherin prefect, Daddy?"
"Oh, it's been my life's ambition," Harry said with a helpless sigh. Tristan giggled and Cedric cracked a smile.
"Oh, wait!" Hayden had pulled his rucksack from his back. A moment later, he withdrew another badge. "Here, Ced. Gryffindor prefect." He smirked. "I know you were always jealous I got it and you didn't."
"Oh, obviously I was devastated," Cedric muttered. He and Harry exchanged dark looks before accepting the badges.
"And here." Tristan pulled off her cloak, which happened to be one of her Hogwarts set, and handed it to her brother. "Just lengthen these a bit and they'll cover your shirt and combat boots."
"Draco, didn't you bring one of your cloaks as well?" Blaise asked, a wicked twinkle in her eye. "In fact, you had on your Quidditch kit when we got to Red's Park – "
"No bloody way is Potter wearing my robes!" He backed away, keeping his rucksack behind him.
"What, still believe in cooties?" Tristan teased.
"Honestly, Malfoy, we don't have time for this," Ginny said. "Just give Harry the damned cloak."
Draco opened his mouth to argue, but perhaps he realized that everyone was staring impatiently at him because after a moment he shut his mouth and thrust his rucksack into Harry's arms.
"You'll be replacing that cloak when we get out of here, Potter," he snapped. Harry gave him an ironic look.
"If we get out of here." He pulled the thick, expensive robe from the rucksack where Draco had stashed it and tossed the pack back to its owner. Then he pulled it on over his jumper.
"Hang on," Ginny said, a sudden and, now that she thought about it, obvious problem occurring to her. "Why would two Hogwarts prefects be wandering around Diagon Alley at this time of year?"
"Easter hols," Cedric said, examining his sister's cloak critically. It barely reached his knees and he couldn't get his arms through the sleeves. "Kids are all over the Alley the week of Easter. Tons of deals at Quality Quidditch, plus WWW has their annual unveiling."
"WWW?" Harry asked, fastening Draco's cloak around his shoulders and not looking terribly happy about it.
"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Hayden supplied. His eyes were trained on his father, who had returned to looking grouchy and sleep-deprived. "Uncle Fred and Uncle George's business. We're told it's the Zonko's Joke Shop of our time."
So Fred and George had been successful after all, despite their mum's dark predictions of destitution before the first year was up. It was nice to know there was justice somewhere in the futuristic world.
"Get rid of the boots, Ced," Tristan cut in. She studied her brother, her head on one side. Ginny agreed. Even though the cloak was pristine, well-tailored, and attached to a prefect's badge, Cedric still looked like a rogue.
"What if Ced wears my shirt?" Hayden offered. He had borrowed one of Kendal's button-down oxfords and it seemed in good condition. He unbuttoned the shirt and tossed it to Cedric. Cedric, who had borrowed a tight black undershirt that did nothing to make him look inconspicuous, sighed loudly. He pulled of his shirt and tossed it back to Hayden.
All this shirtless business made Ginny dread the moment Draco inevitably removed his.
"That does it." Blaise nodded, her eyes on her son, rather than his father. Harry and Cedric glanced at each other and grinned. Cedric looked much less roguish in an oxford and a lot like Harry's twin.
"But, Ced, do get rid of the boots," Tristan pleaded again. "No prefect would wear those and if Dad or Uncle Draco got a half-second's look at you, they'd know the boots on sight."
"Ced, your feet and Malfoy's are probably the same size," Harry pointed out, his lip twitching as he glanced at Draco.
"Look, Potter – " he began, literally spitting the name.
"Wait a minute," Blaise said slowly, eyeing the boys. "I think we're going about this the wrong way. Potter and Draco should pair up."
"What?" everyone demanded, staring at Blaise like she was mad.
"Just listen," she insisted. "Potter and Draco are famous for the strops they're always having with each other, right?"
"Right," Ginny said, still mystified.
"Oy!" said Draco and Harry, glaring at her.
"So present-day Potter and Draco would never expect themselves to team up or that anyone else would let them," Blaise said. "Also, they look like exact opposites, but if we change around their hair and eye color a bit, we could pass them off for housemates, couldn't we?"
Ginny could see what she meant. Draco and Harry against each other were often irritating, but teamed together they'd be a sight. They were both tall, both imposing, and both intense at the best of times.
"Do we have a second Quidditch kit?" Tristan asked.
"Mine's in one of the packs," Harry said grimly.
"No, you lot have to be from the same House, obviously," Blaise cut in. "Potter can wear Draco's Quidditch kit and Draco can wear his own robes."
"Potter is not, under any circumstances, wearing my kit," Draco snarled.
Tristan and Dorian giggled because they were suddenly five years old. Draco glowered at the pair of them and Harry went red.
"You know it's good plan, Draco," Blaise said. "Anyway, you can ritualistically burn everything Potter touches and buy new things when we get home."
"I hate existence," Draco said succinctly. He tossed his rucksack back to Harry. Harry shrugged Draco's robes back off and tossed them back to him.
"Wash, wash, never clean," Draco chanted, pulling on the robes Harry had recently vacated.
"Least you each get to be a Quidditch captain or a prefect," Hayden pointed out. His father glared at him.
"Shut up, boy," he advised
"Make me," Hayden said, sticking out his tongue.
Harry and Cedric stepped quickly between father and son, just in case.
"Sod off," Draco advised, stropping off to lounge against the alley wall and look sullen at everything. He was starting to remind Ginny of the way he'd been at Red's Park.
"Harry," Ginny said suddenly. "Give Malfoy your glasses."
Draco looked at Ginny as though she'd signed his execution order or he wished she would.
"He's worried they'll ruin his Grecian profile," Tristan murmured. "Not to worry, Uncle."
"You can shut up as well, tiny Potter," Draco snapped.
"I don't want him wearing my specs," Harry cut in, looking alarmed. "How the hell am I supposed to see anything?"
"On second thought, hand those over," Draco said, reaching eagerly for the glasses.
"Your eyesight's all right, Harry," Ginny pointed out. "I mean, it's not perfect, but you can manage as long as you don't have to read anything."
"Or walk properly," Harry said, looking hunting as he handed over his glasses.
"Oh, my god, Potter, how do you function?" Draco demanded, blinking through the thick lenses.
"Think, for a moment, about what you're doing to me," Harry said morosely to Ginny.
"Draco won't let anything happen to you, or we'll all kill him," Blaise said cheerfully.
"What a comfort," Harry grumbled, groping his way to the alley wall. Draco was still adjusting Harry's glasses and both of them looked unhappy.
"It would help if I could see," they chorused.
Ginny wasn't the only one who gave an exhausted laugh.
"Draco, we'll make the lenses clear for you. Potter, live with it," Blaise said, still smiling. "Now, all we need is to fix their hair."
"Allow me." Cedric came forward and stood between his father and uncle, withdrawing his wand from his pocket. Tapping Harry's head, he muttered an incantation before quickly transferring the wand to the top of Draco's head. An instant later, both their hair began to drain of all color. Cedric murmured something under his breath. Color returned to Draco's head first. His hair darkened, hanging in long black locks around his face, his eyebrows staining the same color as his hair. A moment later, Harry's began to fill in, turning his unruly curls and thick brows platinum blond.
"Oh, my god!" Tristan said faintly, staring in fascination at her father and uncle. Everyone else stared as well. Harry reacted first, snatching his glasses off Draco's nose and grabbing for his wand. He went to the nearest dingy shop window and murmured, "Lumos." Draco was right behind him. Another moment of silence as they examined their reflections, then –
"Change. Me. Back," Draco ordered, his eyes filled with horror.
"It's perfect, Cedric," Ginny said. Surreal was more like it. Harry looked completely unrecognizable, apart from the glasses and barely visible scar. The blonde hair made the rosy color in his cheeks, normally obscured by his tan, stand out sharply. It still did a fine job of hiding his scar.
Draco looked unfortunately like a miniature Snape, though possibly less greasy. Ginny couldn't decide if he looked better or not.
"He looks like Brandon Boyd," Tristan said to Dorian, who nodded fervently.
"Brilliant," Dorian agreed.
"Who?" Hayden asked.
"Muggle band," Tristan and Dorian said absently.
"Sod you, little Potter, I look like a bloody Muggle!" Draco snarled at Cedric, snapping out of his stunned trance and stalking back into the alley. "Hope you're happy, Zabini!"
"Not quite – Potter, the glasses," Blaise called to Harry, who was still staring at himself with his mouth slightly open. After a moment, he glanced up at Blaise with a martyred expression.
"I look Swedish," he said faintly. Cedric choked back a laugh.
"You lot will make quite an impression on Diagon Alley," Cedric said, shaking his head.
"I don't want to see anymore," Harry said childishly, throwing his glasses at Draco.
"Me, either," the Slytherin agreed, jamming the glasses back on.
"I hope we don't all have to go through this," Tristan said skeptically.
"You can't look much worse than you do now," Hayden put in helpfully. Tristan slugged him in the arm and he looked like he might slug her back.
"Cut it out, you two," Cedric ordered, grabbing Hayden's shoulder.
"Who next?" Harry asked grouchily.
"Whoever it is, they can't possibly have it worse than I do," Draco muttered, slouching against the wall.
"I think Ian and Mum should go together," Hayden said thoughtfully. "They look an awful lot alike. All you'd need to do is put Ian into some decent clothes - "
"Hey!"
" - and change their hair color."
"Make it dull brown," Blaise said, her head angled again as she studied Ginny. "No one'll notice her then."
Ginny glared at her. "What about you?" she demanded. "Apart from your eyes, everyone notices your hair first."
Everyone looked at Blaise's hair.
"Shut up," she muttered.
"Why don't you have it off?" Tristan said suddenly.
Blaise looked as though someone had told her to kill a puppy.
"What if you all do?" Hayden said, smirking at Tristan.
"I'm going to use my hair to gag you in a minute, Malfoy," she snapped, wrapping a protective hand around her long plait.
Ginny caught her long red curls in her fingers. She'd been growing it for ages …
"Look, if we all get out of this, you lot will never have cut your hair in the first place," Harry began cautiously.
"Except me!" Tristan wailed. "Ced," she said, blinking huge green eyes at him.
Cedric very carefully didn't look at her. "We're on the run," he said. "You three have this gorgeous but totally useless long hair and if it comes to a fight, the hair's not going to help you at all. Anyway, it's really very noticeable. Hayden's right – have it off."
The girls glanced at each other. "I hate men," Ginny said devoutly.
"No idea at all," Blaise added.
"Do I have to?" Tristan asked her mother in a small voice.
There was a long, long pause.
"I'll do it for you two," Ginny said at last, swallowing. "I used to cut my mum's hair and sometimes my brothers. I think I have some idea what to do about you two." She glanced at her niece. "Tristan, I think you need it over with first."
She pulled her wand out and Tristan grabbed Blaise's hand. "I've never had my hair cut," she said faintly.
Hayden opened his mouth but yelped as Cedric's hand clamped over his mouth.
"Good catch," Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Make the boys go away, please," Tristan said, her voice even smaller.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Draco muttered, but he grabbed his son and nephew and dragged them around the corner of the alley.
"You'll look wonderful, I know you will," Harry said, patting Tristan's shoulder in passing.
"You'll be even faster at Quidditch, Tris," Cedric added with a wink.
"You ready, Tristan?" Ginny asked as the boys vanished around the corner.
Tristan set her teeth and gripped Blaise's hand. Shutting her eyes tight, she said, "Whatever you're going to do, just do it quickly."
A few moments later, Tristan squealed as the first cut came. Long shafts of black curls tumbled onto the alley floor. Blaise bit her lip as she watched Ginny work. She didn't comment as Ginny went shorter and shorter, Tristan's black curls crinkling closer and closer to her scalp.
"That should do it," Ginny said, stepping back and looking Tristan over.
"Good job, too," Blaise admitted, looking her daughter over. She squeezed Tristan's hand. "You okay, Tristan?"
"I don't know," Tristan said shakily, opening her eyes. "Am I bald?" She reached a hand up to feel her head.
"It's very very short," Ginny admitted. "But I once did my mum's this way – it's curly like yours – and it looked nice."
"Okay, you now," Tristan said to Blaise. She kept her eyes off the alley floor. Ginny thought they could probably have made a coat from all Tristan's discarded hair.
"Zabini, even shorter, I think," Ginny said. "Your hair is heavy and straight, so it'll hold a nice shape. Is that okay?"
"Whatever," Blaise said, trying to sound indifferent. Tristan squeezed her hand and Blaise managed a smile.
Five minutes later, Ginny stepped back and examined her handy-work in the light of Tristan's wand.
"Wow, Aunt Gin," Tristan said. "You weren't kidding."
"Long as it looks okay," Blaise muttered, feeling the two inches of hair atop her head.
"Not just anyone could pull it off," Tristan told her, "but, Mum, you're a knock-out."
"Thanks," Blaise muttered. "Weasley, what're we going to do about you?"
"Something simple," Ginny said quickly. "Since neither of you have cut hair before."
Blaise pulled out her wand, Tristan kept hers lit, and a few minutes later Ginny's hard-earned red hair mingled with the pile of black on the alley floor.
"Can we come back yet?" Draco asked irritably from around the corner. "We'd like a kip sometime before I turn eighty-five."
Blaise murmured something and the hair on the alley floor vanished. "Don't want a hag or a hedgewitch getting hold of that stuff," she explained. "They do scary work with hair. Yes, your bloody albino highness, you can come back."
"Bout time, too," Dorian began. He came around the corner first and stared. "Wow."
"That made a difference," Harry said faintly, after a long pause.
"Whatever, we're over it," Blaise said. "Stop staring so we can sort the rest of you out."
The boys trooped slowly back into the alley. Ginny caught Draco's eye as he followed Cedric in. Despite his grouchiness, Draco gave her a nod and a wink and Ginny tried very hard not to blush.
They sorted out the rest of the costumes and pairings, covering their yawns and drooping eyelids with less and less success. Finally, Harry and Cedric cast protective charms around the group and an alarm charm to wake them when Diagon Alley opened. Then everyone curled up and fell immediately to sleep.
)PvsM(
"This," said Hayden the next morning as he and Tristan slipped carefully into Diagon Alley, "is, without a doubt, the worst ruddy day of my life!" He reached out to readjust Tristan's glasses on his nose. She could just make out the blurred shape of his hand moving. "And I hate your specs."
"Worst ruddy day of my life," Tristan mimicked furiously, reaching up again to finger her hair. "All you had to do was trade clothes with your stupid dad! I lost a foot and a half of hair! Do you have any idea – ?"
"Oh, who gives a toss about your hair?" the Gryffindor retorted. His own has been turned black like hers and then stuck straight up all over his head with half a bottle of Dorian's styling potion.
"You look like an absolute git," Tristan spat.
"You can't even see me," Hayden said, smirking at her as she stumbled.
"On the bright side," Tristan shot back. Her angry steam began to ebb as she threw a nervous glance up the crowded, brightly lit main street of the Alley. All she could see were blurred shadows, barely enough to keep her from walking into lamp posts and early morning shoppers. "At least Dad won't catch us first."
"Oh, yeah?" Hayden muttered. "And why's that?" Absently, he pulled her to the left in time to keep her from crashing into a sign post.
"We're the pair no one would expect," Tristan said, not bothering to thank him since she just knew he was still smirking at her. "For one thing, it's stupid for us to be alone together when Red Robes is targeting us. For another, we're the ones likely to mess everything up by pitching a 'bitch fit', as Ian would call it."
"Only one of us is bloody fool enough to do that – it's not me, by the way – and I'd also like to remind you that I'm not female, a Potter, or a Slytherin, and don't pitch fits in a bitchy way."
"Oh, so it's just the regular kind for you, then?" she snapped, cursing when she tripped over a loose paving stone.
"I didn't think you could get any worse at walking," Hayden snickered, reaching out a hand to steady her. She shook him off, anger flaring again. "What?" Hayden demanded. "I'm just trying to help."
"You never once tried to help me!" Tristan hissed. "And you're laughing at me now."
"Guess I'll let you fall next time." Tristan could hear him sulking.
"You won't," she countered flatly. "Because if I fall, it'll slow us down."
He was silent, except the occasional grunt of irritation when Tristan stumbled and he had to catch her. He did, every time, but Tristan knew she was right. He wasn't doing it for her. "What do you mean, I never helped you?" he demanded suddenly.
"What I said," Tristan told him. "You never once stuck your neck out for me, even when we – when we were kids."
"I did!" Hayden said, so indignantly that Tristan almost smiled.
"When?"
"Loads of times," he snapped, grabbing her elbow and tugging her out of the path of two dark blobs (presumably wizards) moving down the sidewalk.
"When?" she repeated. "You spent all your time getting mad at me for things that weren't my fault. And like a fool," she added, with a harsh laugh at herself, "I apologized. I thought, all that time, I was doing something wrong." She shook her head. "I was blind."
"Still are," Hayden said darkly.
"Not in the important ways," she said softly, thinking suddenly of her mum, somewhere in Diagon Alley. Tristan suddenly smiled, anger fading again. She liked Blaise's new haircut. She also liked Blaise's smile when she looked at Tristan and Blaise's callused hands holding hers. Proper Mum stuff.
"We – we should hurry," Tristan mumbled, embarrassed by the tender thoughts. "We've only got fifteen minutes and we have to find those guide books. I hope Dad doesn't kill Uncle Draco because I like Uncle Draco and if he dies now, he can't be my godfather when he's old and – "
"Tristan," Hayden cut in. "Please shut up."
"Right," she murmured. Gritting her teeth, she reigned in her babbling. It wasn't like he knew she was thinking good thoughts about her mum for the first time in her life.
She jumped as Hayden's hand slid down her arm and his fingers laced through hers. "Get that look off your face," he murmured coldly. "We're supposed to be pretending to be going out, remember? No one will believe it if I let you walk into a building."
"Sod off, love-muffin," Tristan hissed. "This, for me, is an all-time low," she added. "Amber can't ever know this happened."
"Ian once did a study," Hayden told her conversationally, "and thinks that sixty percent of all girls at Hogwarts want to go out with me."
"How much did you pay him to rig the study?" Tristan asked sweetly. "I mean, oh, I'm so envious, I just know you'll leave me for another girl any time now."
She could feel his surprise, even if she couldn't see it. "What?" she asked innocently. "I'm out for a gay old stroll with my darling, heroic, well dressed Slytherin prefect boyfriend, yeah? I ought to be properly jealous and paranoid."
"Oh, sod off," he muttered.
"Tut, tut," Tristan said with shake of her shorn head. "That's not the proper way to talk to your devastating knock-out of a girlfriend, is it?"
"Did you say devastating or delusional?" But Tristan heard, to her astonishment, a traitorous quiver of amusement in his voice.
"Oh, don't smile!" she said, sounding horrified. "Slytherins don't show they're happy unless they need to trick, swindle, or dismember someone."
Hayden made a suspicious coughing noise and pulled Tristan a bit closer. She might have been alarmed, but the blurred shape of a street cart passed on her right and she realized he'd pulled her out of the way and onto the sidewalk. His arm slipped around her waist and she didn't fight it.
"Bloody eyes," she muttered, tentatively sliding her own arm around his middle.
"Feel free to take your specs back whenever you want," Hayden said, forcibly relaxing into her half-embrace. "They make me look like a girl."
"They don't," Tristan said immediately. "They're cute."
"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, stumbling a little himself.
"I mean," Tristan backpedaled badly. "The lady in the shop told me they were cute. My specs."
Hayden's mouth was hanging open, Tristan was sure.
"Note to self," she muttered. "Inner monologue is to remain in head in future."
"Are you taken suddenly ill?" Hayden asked.
"It's the stress," Tristan sighed dramatically. "I'm cracking under the pressure."
Hayden said something that sounded an awful lot like, "Already cracked," but Tristan decided it was best to ignore him. As if she could, wound around him as she was. At least she wasn't crashing into things and tripping anymore, she thought distantly. Her side, pressed against his, was uncomfortably warm. So were her cheeks, though mercifully not touching him at all.
"Coming up on Flourish and Blotts," Hayden murmured.
They strolled quickly down the remaining length of sidewalk and pushed open the door of bookshop. Even in her advanced state of nerves, Tristan felt a sudden warmth in her chest as the smell of parchment, ink, and leather met her sensitive nose. "Love it here," she murmured to herself, letting go of Hayden immediately. She could find her way around this store stone blind.
"Good afternoon," came the soft voice of the proprietor, a man called Gibbs. "What can I get for you today?"
"Um – just looking," Hayden said hastily, before pulling Tristan behind the first available bookshelf. Seeing her questioning look, he said under his breath, "If our maniac parents are in disguise or have anyone on the lookout for us, the last thing we want to do is be noticeable. Or ask for Muggle tour books."
Tristan thought he was probably right, but didn't say so. "Er," she said. "Hayden, do you have any idea where Muggle books are kept in this place?"
"Nope," he said with a shrug. "We could split up and – "
"No!" she hissed, panicking. He did still have her glasses. "We're supposed to stay together! Anyway, suppose Dad or Uncle Draco came in and we were on opposite sides of the store?"
"Fine," he grumbled. "Where should we start?"
"Who's the one with the specs?" Tristan said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, I think we should check near Muggle Studies." She led the way over.
"Take these already." Hayden removed her glasses and handed them back. "No one will see us back here. Let's see. Muggle behavior, Muggle cooking, Muggle plumbing – do you actually study that in class?" He'd never had Muggle Studies. Tristan had.
As no one else seemed to be around, she took her specs back. She sighed, relieved, as the store came into focus around her. She began scanning titles as soon as her eyes focused. Traveling with Muggles: How Slow Can You Go? caught her eye. She'd only just opened to the table of contents when she was distractedby a funny squeaking noise. Turning, Tristan realized the sound must have come from Hayden, who was staring a hole through his own book, A Guide to Everyday Muggle Vehicles.
"Don't look now," he muttered so quietly that Tristan had to lean closer to hear, "but we're being watched."
Tristan immediately reached up to remove the glasses.
"Don't bother, he'll have noticed you wearing them already," Hayden hissed, batting her hand away.
Tristan quickly pasted her eyes on a picture opposite the table of contents, featuring a smiling family in a car. After a moment, she shook her head and under pretense of putting the book back on the shelf, cast a casual look through the shelves. For a moment, she couldn't find him. Then her eyes lit on a tall, dark man with bleach blonde hair. He wore Muggle sunglasses (unnatural for inside a shop, Tristan thought) and appeared to be skimming a shelf of Defense Against the Dark Arts books. But every so often, Tristan's sharpened eyes caught a subtle shift in the position of his head.
"Can he see us, do you think?" she asked Hayden, pulling A Guide to Muggle Trains from the shelf.
"I've caught him squinting at you twice. By the way, here's a good one," Hayden said into his copy of Muggle Transportation in England: Maps, Tour Guides, and What to Do If You Get Horribly, Horribly Lost.
"It doesn't look anything like Daddy," Tristan whispered. "And even if he were disguised, I'd be able to tell."
"I don't think it's our parents," Hayden told her quietly. "But they've got friends, haven't they? I can think of a couple of Aurors they could pull for this."
Tristan shivered. Without knowing if this bloke was just really curious or whether he was actually watching them, they couldn't walk up and buy a book on Muggle transportation without looking more suspicious than they already did. They needed to make him look away or, if he was a spy for their parents, convince him there was no way they were who he thought they were.
And unfortunately, there was only one way Tristan could think of doing that.
Swallowing, she slid her book back onto the shelf, throwing a last look at the stranger across the store. Thankfully, he hadn't moved much, but she was sure he was watching Hayden.
Tristan reached out a hand and let it come to rest lightly on the small of Hayden's back. When Hayden didn't look up from his book, Tristan slid her hand down and hitched in gently in the belt hidden under his Hogwarts robes. She was pleased to hear him hitch in a sharp breath and took the opportunity to step closer to him.
"What're you doing?" he hissed, though fortunately he didn't pull away.
"Play along," she said through her teeth. "We need this bloke to think . . . " She trailed off, turning enough so that her body pressed gently against his side.
"Think what?" Hayden's voice went husky. Tristan's stomach began to flutter. It swooped as she felt Hayden's arm slide around her waist, fingers skimming the bare skin between her shirt and trousers.
"That we're not us," Tristan breathed, finally looking up. Hayden's eyes were hooded. Tristan swallowed again. His eyes were really really grey.
That was her last thought before Hayden plucked her glasses from her nose, pocketed them, and lowered his lips to hers.
)PvsM(
"Bet they're snogging."
Harry's eyes were beginning to hurt from rolling them so often. "If I snogged you, would you shut up?" he ventured. "God, I must be tired," he said a second later, rubbing his forehead.
"Don't make hideous suggestions. I'm young and impressionable," Malfoy said, running a hand over his hair for the hundredth time. Harry was making it a point not to touch his at all.
"Young and impressionable as Cedric," he muttered, squinting and managing to weave through a bunch of owl cages hanging from the awning above their heads.
"Oh, sod off, you speccy bastard," Malfoy said. Harry saw him adjust the glasses (Harry's glasses, damn him) as they slid down his nose.
"You'rethe speccy bastard right now, Malfoy," Harry pointed out. He surprised them both a moment later by adding, "Bet you're right about them snogging, though. I'd hate to kill Hayden, but I may have to if he touches my daughter."
"Even if she's begging him to?" Malfoy said.
"She's very young," Harry shot back. "Also, shut up, I may have mentioned before."
Malfoy snorted and did another of his long scans of the street. Harry could tell every time the Slytherin did this because he'd pause under pretext of looking down at his prefect badge, and then look around as though hoping someone would notice.
Harry didn't bother looking around because he couldn't see worth a damn. He simply concentrated on looking as though he really didn't need glasses and on trying not to run anyone down.
They were fortunate. Their only responsibility was to wander Diagon Alley for a fifteen minutes, keeping Malfoy's eye out for any signs of Unspeakables or Red Robes, and then meet the others at the Charing Cross Road Underground station, just outside the Alley. Provided Tristan and Hayden were able to locate the correct Muggle maps and guidebooks in Flourish and Blotts, they'd be able to catch a bus to Reading, and then a train to Bath. From Bath, they would cut across the countryside to Wells, which was no more than two miles from Glastonbury.
Cedric insisted that they could do all this in the next two days. They'd have to split up again in Bath, staying at different hotels, but it would be nothing short of a miracle if they made it that far. They could worry logistics when they were out of London.
In the meantime, they were spread out all over Diagon Alley. Cedric and Blaise had the hardest job: to Gringotts, then to a mobile phone supplier in Charing Cross Road, then to the Underground. Ginny and Dorian were restocking medicinal herbs and sensible travel food that would last them once they were out in the country again.
Harry was just wondering if he shouldn't have traded glasses with Tristan (as he nearly collided with what appeared to be a bucket of eels outside an apothecary) when the hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle. It was a feeling he'd come to recognize and learned never to ignore.
"Malfoy," he said quietly, pulling up beside the dark shape of the Slytherin and lowering his voice. "I think we're being followed."
"What are you talking about?" Malfoy demanded, his shoulders tense. "You can't see, Potter. How would you know – ?"
"Keep your voice down!" Harry murmured. "I just know we're being watched. Call it a hunch. I'll buy you a Firebolt 500 if I'm wrong."
"Merlin!" Malfoy muttered. "All right, Pothead. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to stop in front of Quality Quidditch and pretend to be desperately interested in whatever broom is in the front window," Harry mumbled.
"We're nearly there now," Malfoy said softly. "Try not to fall over, Potter."
Harry could see the vague shapes of brooms and Quidditch equipment in the window when Malfoy drew level.
"Okay," Harry said quietly. "Can you see anyone reflected in the glass?"
"Yeah," Malfoy said as they stood staring at the broom. "Just a few people, though. No one suspicious looking."
"Fine. Let's get inside the shop, seeing if anyone follows us."
Malfoy, who didn't seem inclined to argue at this point, led the way through the front door and into the crowded interior. He wandered into the shop, nodding at things as they passed and pausing at a large display of brooms.
"There's the new Nimbus," the Slytherin said loudly in passing, leading Harry over to examine it. The two made a ritual of looking at the broom from every angle, until they'd worked their way behind it so Malfoy could throw an occasional, casual look around the shop.
"Well?" Harry asked presently as they stepped back to admire the broom from a few feet away.
"You were right," Malfoy conceded in a casual tone. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, "I couldn't place the bloke's face. I'm sure it's no one we know, if you follow me, but he's way too interested in that set of engraved Bludgers in the display case."
Harry reached out and ran a hand appreciatively over the broom tail, simultaneously flicking his eyes around again. Although unable to focus, he felt a jolt as his eyes passed the display cases near the door. A man in a dark cloak was standing at just such an angle that Harry was sure he was watching their reflections in the glass.
"Damn, I think you're right," he muttered, looking quickly back to the broom and reaching out to examine the price tag. "We've got to loose him."
"How?" Malfoy growled in a low voice. "Whoever the Unspeakables pulled for this will be the quiet, trustworthy, family friend sorts. They're are going to be Aurors, at the very least."
"Then there's only one way out of this that I can see," Harry said, turning to look at what he could just identify as blurry elbow pads.
"Which is . . . ?" Malfoy prompted impatiently, hefting one in his hand.
"They're only going to know us by physical appearance," Harry murmured, rummaging through the mouth guards and hoping he didn't knock anything over.
"If he's watching us, he already knows who we are," Malfoy hissed. Harry was reminded of the tone Malfoy had used in their first year when he'd been told they'd serve detention in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid.
"No, he doesn't," Harry countered. "He'd have made a move by now. He suspects us is all. So all we've got to do is convince him there's no way we are who he thinks we are."
"This will end in tears and imprisonment," Malfoy said darkly, but he apparently didn't have any better ideas so he followed Harry back toward the front of the store.
"Of course, Muggle hang gliders are the worst," Harry said loudly when he thought he was within earshot of the man. He hoped he was properly imitating Malfoy's drawl. "I lost my last Snitch a few weeks ago when it got caught in a glider's wing. Stupid Muggle thought it was a faery or some rubbish and pocketed it. Couldn't do a bloody thing without the Ministry fining me for using magic, so I let it go. Think I'll bully father into getting me one of these." He indicated what he hoped was the fanciest Snitch in the display case.
"You don't want one of those," Malfoy said, cottoning on and dropping his voice into an impersonation of Harry that was a bit uncanny. "The wings are worthless if you bend them at all. Anyway, why have gold when you could have platinum?" Harry looked up and saw one of Malfoy's long fingers pointing at a silvery blur in the far right corner of the case.
"Match my hair, don't you reckon?" Harry said with a laugh he hoped sounded natural. His palms were starting to sweat. "Anyway, there's a reason International Sides still play with a gold Snitch. Tradition, isn't it? And if I want a spot with Puddlemere next year, I need to keep to what they use."
"Like Puddlemere would sign you, Greg," Malfoy said brightly, with a false little laugh. Harry bit back a scowl – Greg?
They were level with the bloke now, Harry could tell. Time to call his bluff.
"What do you reckon?" Harry asked him, turning to face him head-on and throwing caution to the winds. "Should they stick with a tradition gold or go for the platinum? Personally, I dunno how teams as bad as some of them are could afford it."
It took the man a couple of seconds to realize that Harry was speaking to him. When he did, Harry had to give him credit for answering casually, as though he were really thinking it over. "I don't know," he said. "The Platinum Snitch just doesn't have the same ring to it as the Golden Snitch, does it?"
Malfoy snorted, but Harry said, "Too right. What did I tell you, Fred?"
Malfoy choked. "Still like the platinum," he mumbled in his Harry voice.
"I'd think," the bloke went on, "it would be harder to see as well; the grey-ish color, rather than gold."
"Point," Harry returned, focusing on the case again and trying to sound bored. "Still, I could use a challenge. It gets old winning every match." Beside him, Malfoy coughed pointedly.
"Play Quidditch, do you?" the man asked, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice.
"Who doesn't?" Harry shrugged. "My friend here plays as well. Keeper. He's not too bad."
"Oy," Malfoy said. "Watch yourself, Greg, or you'll find out what that I'm also good with a bat."
They were putting on a tolerable show, butHarry didn't really want to push their luck.
"Is that the time?" he muttered, glancing at his wrist-watch. "Come on, Fred, we'll be late meeting your mum for your robe fitting."
"Wouldn't want that," Malfoy said, grabbing Harry by the scruff of the neck and dragging him out of the shop.
"Fred?" the Slytherin growled the second they were back on the sidewalk. "Thanks for nothing, Pothead."
Harry sniggered. "Greg's not my favorite, either, you know. Think he fell for it?"
"Bloody well hope so. We've got ten minutes to get to Muggle London."
"Lead the way. Fred."
"Oh, sod off, Greg."
)PvsM(
"And how many people did you say you wanted on this family plan, sir?"
The Muggle salesman looked irritable, but Cedric cared about as much as he cared if his father dropped off the face of the planet – which was to say, not much.
"Eight," he said again, glaring at the man. "And you know, we can afford it, mate."
His mum, standing close beside him, gave him a warning look.
He'd known this young version of his mum a very short time, but Cedric still felt as though he knew her on some fundamental level that defied separation and time. He knew what she was thinking (that the salesman could use a good hexing) and knew that she knew he felt the same. One of the many things mother and son shared was an ability to relieve aggression through verbal antagonism. Cedric still remembered words his mum had had with obnoxious salespeople when he was a boy.
"Certainly, sir," the clerk said. "My apologies."
Blaise nudged Cedric and he sighed. "Like I said, we're in a bit of a rush," he told the salesman. "We want small, inconspicuous, and the very best reception. Whatever you've got, we'll take."
"I do have just the thing, sir," the salesman said, and he vanished into the back.
"Stupid twat," Cedric muttered under his breath, pulling away from his mum and going to the window. Muggles rushed passed on the street outside. Fortunately, the small mobile phone shop wasn't busy today.
"Easy, Cedric," Blaise said, joining him and resting a hand on his shoulder. It amazed Cedric that this seventeen-year-old girl still exerted a kind of maternal authority over him. His shoulders relaxed a little and he suddenly felt tired. God, he'd missed his mum!
"We've got time," Blaise said softly. "Ten minutes until we meet at the station and it's just across the street. I'd be more worried about Potter and Draco, actually."
"What about Tris and Hayden?" Cedric asked, a little less tired when he thought of his sister. "I wouldn't be surprised if they caused a street brawl."
"I wouldn't be surprised if they were snogging behind a bookcase," Blaise muttered. "I think Weasley and Dorian are the most likely to make it out without burning the Alley down."
"If Ian doesn't knock anything over or get lured into a dark passage by beautiful women," Cedric pointed out, his eyes raking the street for anyone who looked like they might be watching the shop. For now, he didn't see anyone, but that could change fast.
"Too right." Blaise sighed. "To be honest, it's sounding a lot nicer every day to just turn ourselves over and try to reason with the Unspeakables. Draco and Weasley seem a decent lot in the future."
"You'd never get Dad to calm down enough for Uncle Draco to reason with him," Cedric countered, his lip curling. "He'd probably have me locked away and he'd keep you lot confined to a single room with no windows. And Tris – " He paused, his fist clenching at the thought of any harm coming to his little sister.
"Potter wouldn't hurt Tristan," Blaise said, her voice soft on Cedric's sister's name.
"You don't know – " Cedric broke off, his temper rising. Mother or not, this younger version Cedric's mum had no idea what his father was capable of when he flew into a rage. The man was unreasonable at the best of times but in Harry's dark furies, Cedric feared in the deepest way for Tristan.
"I don't know the Harry Potter you know but I know the one from my time," Blaise said, her voice a soothing current through Cedric's anger. "Whatever made him turn you out, and however much it hurt," she gave his shoulder a squeeze, "I refuse to believe he'd do anything to harm our daughter."
Cedric hadn't ever seen Harry hurt Tristan, admittedly. But the fear was there, a constant hum in the back of his mind. It only took one loss of control.
The salesman returned, clearing his throat. Cedric turned back to deal with him, leaving Blaise by the window to keep an eye on the street.
Activating the phones, learning their most basic functions from the clerk, and paying for it all took another five minutes.
"We're right on time," Blaise murmured as they left the shop.
"And provided we aren't being tailed, we might actually make it out of London," Cedric returned quietly.
)PvsM(
"Aunt Gin, was it mad to let Tris and Hayden go off alone?" Dorian asked over his coffee.
"I think so, but then, I'm not really the mastermind, am I?" Ginny asked helplessly.
Glancing around the little Muggle cafe, looking for signs of trouble, she had to admit that they seemed to her like the luckiest pair. They had collected their supplies in Diagon Alley in less than ten minutes, and then decided they'd be less conspicuous if they waited at a cafe next to the station entrance.
"I mean," Dorian went on, "we all know it's just sexual tension, but they're both daft. I live in fear of finding them in a cupboard devouring each other someday when it gets too much for them."
Ginny grinned a little, knowing that it really wasn't so far-fetched. She stopped grinning when she realized the same could be said of her and someone else she didn't like to think too hard about.
"They're like you and Uncle Draco, you know," Dorian said. He had, Ginny was beginning to realize, inherited his mother's instinctive insight and his father's total inability to keep anything to himself. "I'll never forget how you two got together," he added.
"What?" He had Ginny's full attention. "I mean, how?"
"We've all heard the story so many times," Dorian said, grinning his cheeky grin. "You were alone at the Burrow while everyone else took off for the final battle. Gran and Granddad thought it was the safest place for you."
"What, I sat at home through the final battle?" Ginny demanded indignantly. Like hell!
"Oh, no," Dorian said, looking amazed. "You, stay at home? It was just that you still had the Trace and you were underage. Apparently, Uncle Bill laid it on thick that you'd be a huge danger to everyone and by staying at home, you were keeping everyone else safe."
"Oh, of course," Ginny murmured faintly. "Wait, I fell for that rubbish?" What the hell kind of idiot kid had she been in this universe?
"Only for as long as it took everyone to Apparate to Hogwarts, where the final battle happened," Dorian assured her. "But you couldn't find them right away so you were sort of Apparating all over the place, looking for everyone. Then you remembered Great Uncle Malfoy had that mansion full of dangerous magical objects that Granddad and the Ministry where always raiding. You thought maybe the battle might be there so you went straight there and ran into the master of the house."
"Oh, no."
"Exactly." Dorian nodded vigorously. "I mean, it wasn't like you weren't a good duelist or anything but he was a Death Eater."
"What happened?" Ginny demanded.
"Well, he had you pinned down after about five minutes," Dorian went on, rubbing his hands together. "Disarmed, backed up against a suit of armor, when Uncle Draco burst through the door."
"He knew I was there?"
"He'd gone back to the Burrow just before going to Hogwarts himself," Dorian explained. "When he couldn't find you, he did the activation spell for your Trace and came after you. He had Great Uncle Malfoy away from you faster than you can blink. The way Aunt Gin – I mean, the way you tell it, he was spitting mad."
Ginny's hands were cupped over her mouth. "What happened?"
"Uncle Draco forced him back onto a balcony," Dorian explained. "Great Uncle Malfoy must have been desperate because he fired off Cruciatus. But Uncle Draco got down just in time, the spell rebounded, and it hit Great Uncle Malfoy. He was right next to the balcony railing and he – he fell off. Broke his neck."
Ginny swallowed. "What happened then?"
"Oh, Uncle Draco was in a spitting fury and got shouty at you for leaving the Burrow," Dorian said, shrugging. "I guess you were pretty brassed off at being left behind and you had a tremendous row and then snogged a lot."
Ginny blinked. "I'm sorry. We rowed and then we snogged? That's the story?"
Dorian chuckled. "Well, yeah. Uncle Draco didn't want you anywhere near the battle because he was mad for you. And you wanted to go because you wanted to protect your family and Uncle Draco because you were mad for him. It makes perfect sense, really." Dorian grinned his cheeky grin. "Uncle Sirius reckons you were shagging, actually,
but – "
Ginny squealed and slapped him upside the head. "And that'll be quite enough of that, young man!"
Dorian rubbed his head as he glanced at his watch.
"Time to go," he said. He glanced balefully at her. "You're just like Aunt Gin."
Ginny ruffled his hair as they left the cafe. "I know, dear."
)PvsM(
"Look, there's Gin and her twat nephew," Draco mumbled to Potter. They were leaning casually against a pillar in the Underground station, Muggle newspapers open. The station was crowded enough to provide good cover for them and at least they weren't in their robes and prefect badges anymore, having stuffed them in a bin just inside Diagon Alley before leaving.
"Left or right?" Potter asked, not even looking up from the London Times. He still didn't have his specs.
"Right, twenty meters down," Draco muttered, turning a page.
"That would put them level with the next entrance," Harry said, nodding. "Perfect. Any sign of our stalker from Diagon Alley?"
"I haven't seen him, but there's no guarantee he won't show up here," Draco said, flipping another page.
"Also no guarantee the others won't be followed," Potter said darkly.
Draco glanced up again. The train thing currently occupying the tracks in front of them was pulling out with a dreadful squeal of metal on metal. He shifted, trying not to feel nervous. They needed to be on the next train out to stick with Cedric Potter's timetable and there were still no sighs of anyone except Ginny and her nephew, who sat on a bench together some way down the tracks, sharing a bag of crisps.
"Ah, our fearless leader's just arrived," Draco said suddenly, turning his relief into contempt as best he could. "Looks as though he and Blaise found the ruddy felly-tone things you lot wanted."
Potter made a choking noise and when Draco looked at him, his lip twitched.
"What?" Draco snapped, trying to keep his voice down. "Shut up!"
"Felly-tones?" the Gryffindor said, now sniggering into his paper. "Try some Muggle Studies sometime, Malfoy."
"Sod right off, wanker," Draco snarled, watching Blaise and Cedric Potter walk by and stand a ways off down the platform, Blaise's arm laced through Little Potter's.
That just left the kids. Damn.
"Suppose they've been captured?" Potter muttered, unkindly voicing Draco's fear aloud.
"If they have, it's probably more of a help than anything," the Slytherin retorted. "Right nuisance, the pair of them." He chewed his lip and tried to read his paper.
"I cannot believe you," Potter growled.
"Look, they get caught, they go back to their parents, safe and sound," Draco pointed out.
"What about Red Robes?"
"Now their parents know about it, they'll be able to protect them," Draco said, not really convincing himself but plowing on anyway. "They're Unspeakables, Potter, they know what they're about."
"Point," Potter surprised him by admitting. "It's them I'm worried about," he added a moment later. "They're the ones who took off to go back in time, right under their families' noses. What's to stop them doing it again? I feel better keeping them with us."
It was Draco's turn to admit that Potter had a point. Hayden and Tristan seemed like the sort that went looking for trouble; a backslide from their parents, who at least held still and waited for the trouble to find them. He opened his mouth, but a faint noise in the tunnel made him stop and listen.
"Our train," Potter said, his eyes wide. "Damn it, what now?"
Draco threw a look down the platform. Ginny met his eyes for a brief moment and shook her head before looking quickly away. Draco turned to look at Blaise. She shook hers, too, but Cedric, without looking at him, tapped his wrist.
"Ced told me there's only one train out of Reading today," Potter murmured. "If we miss it, we don't go to Bath tonight."
"Reading's not big enough to hide us, though, Little Potter said that," Draco said quietly. The lights of the train played around the room as it slowly pulled into the station. "Potter, they're looking to us to make a choice," he added, noticing the other pairs glancing at them down the platform.
Potter's lip twitched as he slowly folded his newspaper. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's at least look like we're heading for the train. Be a bother if someone noticed us missing a bunch of trains and just sitting here."
The train stopped and the doors slid open. Draco saw the other pairs straggling into line, too. Draco and Potter were just at open door of one of the cars when Draco glanced back at the stairs.
"Potter, they're coming!" he hissed.
"Are they going to make the train?" he demanded.
"They'd better," Draco bit out. "Otherwise, they're going to get caught by the man in the trench coat five meters behind them."
Tristan and Hayden were flying down the stairs and long to corridor toward the train, a man just behind them. They were weaving in and out of the people leaving the train station, just ahead of their tail, who was moving too fast for Draco's taste.
"Are they going to make the train, Malfoy?" Potter demanded. "Make the call – if their tail catches up and we're not on the train – "
The bloke would get all of them, not just the kids. Damn.
"We have to risk it," he said. "We have to get to bleeding Avalon."
Potter stepped immediately onto the train, pulling Draco with him. Draco saw the others step through doors further down the car and held his breath. He stuck his head out once, on the off-chance Tristan or Hayden could see him and saw Blaise do the same.
Draco had to yank his head back as the doors began to close. His stomach tightened.
"Where are they?" Potter demanded as the doors closed. "Malfoy, did they make it?"
Draco craned his neck. The long car was crowded and for a moment, he couldn't even see Blaise or Ginny. He shoved his way back to the window as the car pulled out. He saw the man in the trench coat standing on the platform and watching the train pull out of the station.
"Miss me, Daddy?"
Harry Potter let out a muffled sigh of relief as his daughter wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder.
"All right, Dad?" Hayden asked, popping up next to Draco and trying to catch his breath. Draco could see the others now. Ginny's eyes were over-bright as she smiled at him down the car. Blaise's lip gave a tremble, though she didn't move toward Tristan. Cedric Potter blew out a long breath and spared his sister a glare.
"Don't ever do that to me again, boy," Draco muttered.
Hayden grinned, nudging Draco's shoulder. "I'm such a troublemaker."
)PvsM(
TBC