He tugs at his collar while the tailor takes measurements for his dress robes. Voldemort had always insisted he dress well, but he'd never worn the traditional black and white dress robes that one associates with special occasions. Nonetheless, it is more like what he used to wear then the 'play clothes' he so often wears now. He looks in the mirror and decides he looks very much like Dubhán.

"You look very handsome, sonny," The tailor says while Alex is off helping Emma.

"Thanks," he whispers, still looking in the mirror. His hair is parted and combed, but it isn't slicked back at all. There are more freckles on his cheeks, looking like dusted wings across his face. He plays outside a lot with Emma. His Mum is heading his way and pauses mid-step, having caught sight of him. She comes over, grinning.

"You look so grown-up! And look how handsome you are!" She runs her hand through his hair, parting a stray lock with her fingernail. His caught off guard and realizes how 'mothering' the motion really is. He looks up and smiles at her.

"Will there be dancing at this party?" She nods, still looking at him wistfully.

"I wonder if you have two left feet like your father," she laughs, still smiling.

"Two left feet…?"

"It means your father is a horrible dancer."

"I know how to dance," he says, not defensively, but also not modestly.

"Oh really?" There is a glint in her eyes. "Maybe you can teach Harry!" She ruffles his hair and when he looks in the mirror again he looks even more like Devlin. He smiles to himself.

.OoO

Once more, Devlin finds himself looking in the mirror at his well-dressed self. His Dad is behind him, helping him with his tie and combing back his hair. They were dressed in the same type of suit, except that his father's had a bit more detail around the collar and he had golden pins by his wrist, whereas Devlin merely had a button. Still, they looked much the same, in terms of clothing. Even there eyes looked more than a little alike – and if Devlin could just calm himself all the way, and rid his eyes of the amber flecks, they would look exactly the same.

"You're so lucky," his father said, laughing. Within moments his hair was perfectly parted and combed back. "I donno whose hair you got, but I'm just glad you didn't get mine!" He doesn't bother telling him he got Tom Riddle's perfect hair, just like he got the set of his eyes from his Grandfather. He doesn't know where the rest of it came from, but his father keeps saying he looks like his Grandmother Lily.

Harry tries running the comb through his own hair, but it doesn't do much.

"You're mother won't even know I tried. I swear – she'll send me to the bathroom to 'at least try'." He sighs openly and shrugs. "Oh well, Sirius likes to say it's a Potter 'signature'. I'm just glad you didn't get it and, honestly, more glad Emma didn't. Girls who have perfectly well-behaved hair already take too long with it – imagine the torment I would have been responsible for if Emma got my hair!" Devlin stands on his tiptoes so he can see a little more of himself.

"I feel funny," he finally says, looking up to see his father in the mirror. Harry stops trying to comb his hair and looks down.

"Why?"

"I feel…like Dubhán, I guess…" Harry just looks down for a long moment, uncertain how to respond. He knew that Devlin's experiences while he had been captured by Voldemort would never completely disappear and he also knows he couldn't let the child think he loved him less because of that fact.

"What's the difference?" He asks, hoping his voice is as calm and inviting as he is trying to make it be.

"It just feels different," the child says, shrugging softly and looking away from the mirror.

"Have you ever been to a big party?" He asks; trying to elicit exactly what is making he boy so nervous.

"Not like this…I've been to big gatherings, but not a party." He sends a fleeting glance towards the mirror again and for a split second their gazes lock on the reflecting surface. "I was never really allowed at the parties Voldemort threw…" Harry frowns. It still confuses him that Voldemort would have shielded Devlin from any of that. If he had wanted to torture Harry in everyway possible, wouldn't he have tortured Devlin, made him watch other's tortured, made him celebrate Auror and Order Member's deaths? But he hadn't – Devlin expressed over and over again how he had been barred from such things.

"Why?" He asks, unable to stop himself.

Devlin's eyes come back to the mirror and even Harry thinks he looks more like Dubhán and less like Devlin.

"I think he meant to kill me," Devlin says softly, "and then I think his curiosity got the better of him." Harry wants to ask more. Wants to know what he means, but then Emma is running down the hall and both of them share one more look. The look clearly says – not around her and Harry goes back to at least trying with his hair and Devlin with smoothing out his perfectly-smooth pants.

Emma runs in. She is wearing a pale blue dress that highlights her brilliantly blue eyes. Around her neck is her favorite necklace and the upper part of her hair is pulled back, with the rest flowing free. She looks beautiful. So pretty in her blue dress.

Devlin almost runs away. He almost begs her to change the color of her dress. Almost steals his father's wand and does it himself. Then he clenches his fists and tells himself he's stronger than that.

"You look really pretty," he manages to say, sounding almost completely sincere. His father gives him one scrutinizing glance, but then must dismiss it as something unrelated. Devlin doesn't correct him.

Emma twirls and giggles and looks so innocent that it's most enough to wipe away the memory of the other blue dress and brilliant blue eyes.

"Oh Harry, have you even tried to comb your hair yet?" Devlin looks away from Emma and up at Alex, standing in the doorway. He almost laughs at Harry's exaggerated sigh and the 'told-you-so' look he directs at him.

"Yes I have," Harry says, almost appearing to pout. Devlin wonders what Grandfather would think if he knew Harry Potter pouted.

"Well let me try. We've only got a couple more minutes left." She walks over, her deep blue gown flowing along with her, and grabs the comb out of her hand. "At least Devlin did a nice job with his hair." Harry rolls his eyes.

"I did a nice job with Devlin's hair, Alex, because his hair isn't horrible like mine!" Alex tsks and then gives him a quick kiss. Nonetheless, his hair looks marginally better when she's done with him.

"Now, lets go, or we'll be late." And so they all head downstairs to the floo. Devlin's eyes go more amber as his nervousness mounts, but his Mum's hands around him as they tumble through the floo steady his breathing.

Hope you like the chapter. I have some choices to make about the next chapter that are kinda making me feel like a bout of writer's block is upon me. I want to start moving some thing along in this story, but at the same time I don't want it to go by so quickly it's not believable…

Oh well, I guess we'll see. Unless a bunch of motivation hits, it might be a week or two before the next chapter. Just fair warning.

Please review! I got 0 reviews for the last chapter! As always, I am ever thankful for my constant reviewer MissVenusVixen.

But come on guys? Is this story really not that good? Every other story I've read lately has tons of reviews (okay maybe not tons, but more than 1 per chapter). What am I doing wrong, eh? Is it difficult to get through the first bunch of chapters? I think I might need to go back and reformat them – I couldn't figure out how to do scene breaks back then.

PLEASE REVIEW!