24. NEW(S) PAGES

Holly blinked her eyes open slowly, her ears flickering to take in the wind rustling lightly through the leaves overhead, the sounds of smaller animals scurrying through the foliage beneath her spot on one of the large, flat boulders that formed a kind of natural staircase from the garden to the second floor of the castle. She stretched luxuriously, enjoying the first rays of morning sunlight that warmed her black fur and tickled her nose for a moment longer, before she left her perch, easily bounding over the next few boulders and making a clean jump through the window she had left open earlier.

She hadn't slept well, had taken refuge in the bathroom after a particularly brutal nightmare and then had given up on sleep altogether at a quarter past five. Instead she had transformed into her Animagus form and had gone on a foray into the gardens, finding that the myriad impressions on her feline senses had actually helped to calm her nerves, to make her more settled in her own skin.

She looped through the castle towards the dining hall, speeding up when she saw the Lestrange brothers turning into the corridor in front of her. She bounded towards them, butting her head into the backs of their knees and weaving through their legs to try to unbalance them. Rudolphus actually stumbled for a moment and Rabastan had to take a quick side step, both of them grinning when they spotted her.

"Ah, good morning, Holly," Rudolphus greeted her, reaching down to ruffle her behind her ears.

"Your fur is a little damp – have you been outside already?" Rabastan asked, running his broad hand over her back with slow, even strokes.

Holly meowed in agreement, enjoying their attention for another moment before slipping away from them again and continuing on her way, waiting with slight impatience for them to catch up to her so that they could push the heavy double doors to the dining hall open.

The hall was already well populated with Tom and most of his inner circle seated around the long dining table and Nagini, whom she had met earlier in the gardens, snoozing contently in her usual spot, relaxing after her successful hunt. Holly looped past the Death Eaters, bumping lightly against David's legs as she moved past him, then slowing down a little when she came to Professor Snape and Lucius to swish past them as well.

Tom had watched her in amusement, actually chuckling when she jump up to place her paws on the armrest of his chair and swept her tongue over his cheek with a very loud, satisfied purr.

"I'm glad to see you in such a playful mood, kitten, but I think I mentioned that I prefer your kisses when you're in human form?" he asked, softly scratching her cheeks.

Holly gave another loud purr, licking over his fingers and then dropped back down onto four paws to change into her human skin again. "It think it might have been implied," she admitted with an insouciant smile as she straightened up, not overly chagrined since Tom didn't seem upset.

She leaned in to place a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and then plopped down into her own chair with a triumphant grin before any of the Death Eaters or Tom could decide to rise to their feet. "Good morning, everyone."

There were a few echoed greetings and Tom gently picked up her hand to breathe a soft kiss onto the back of it. §Is everything all right, kitten? I know you slept in the bathroom again and when I woke up this morning you were already gone.§

§I'm fine. I just didn't want to wake you,§ Holly replied with a shrug, smiling at Hedwig when she sailed through the open window, dropped a letter from Hermione in her lap and then settled on Holly's shoulder to await her reward in bacon.

"Have you seen today's Daily Prophet yet, my Lord?" Lucius asked a moment later, an edge in his voice and a sudden tension in the air. "There's an article on last night's competition on the front page."

"What?" Tom demanded, unrolling his own copy. "This claims to be a first-hand report… Who is this Rita Skeeter and how did she get all this information?"

Holly wrinkled her nose when Tom pushed his cheese sandwich aside to make room for the newspaper, finding the smell even more pungent than usual, and inched it further away from her until one of the house-elves took pity on her and made the sandwich disappear.

Meanwhile, Tom skim-read the article while simultaneously listening to Lucius' assessment. "It's actually surprisingly positive, I'd say. There're some of the expected sideswipes and well-worn lines, of course, but she also commented on the 'family-friendly, relaxed atmosphere harkening back to easier times', the 'etiquettes of fair play and chivalrous behaviour very much in full force' and the 'stringent rules to guarantee the safety of all participants and viewers'. She also posed a rather convenient question, I thought, with regard to your own duel, my Lord."

"I see it," Tom murmured before reading out loud, "After witnessing this last of many duels, this reporter cannot help but wonder whether the various restrictions on Dark magic can still be considered justified, when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and many of his followers further blurred the lines of separation between Light and Dark and demonstrated with undeniable skill the many potentially dangerous applications of Light magic."

"Are they still not saying your name?" Holly asked with a roll of her eyes. "Why did you even bother to come up with that alias if no-one's allowed to use it?"

"It was never my idea, Holly," Tom stated to her surprise. "It was one of Dumbledore's more successful ploys against me. When he first revived my old schooltime nickname and dubbed me as 'Lord Voldemort' I thought I could turn it to my advantage, a kind of ironic statement on the radical changes I wanted to introduce, but his smear campaign was rather more successful than I had anticipated."

"But… they call you 'my Lord'!" Holly argued, trying to make sense of what Tom was implying.

"Because I'm Lord Gaunt and Heir of Slytherin, Holly," Tom replied, sighing when she could only shake her head in confusion.

"Many of our families have a long tradition of allegiance to House Slytherin," Lucius tried to explain. "And all of us decided to renew and strengthen that allegiance by taking the Dark Mark and accepting him as our Dark Lord. Our use of his title is a reflection of that allegiance – not a reference to that ill-used moniker."

"As you might have guessed Lucius was always very sceptical about my plan to reinvent Dumbledore's less than flattering nickname for my own purposes," Tom admitted with an ironic twist of lips and a light nod towards the blond.

"I had my doubts, my Lord, but I also thought it could work and it would have been a beautiful triumph for us," Lucius replied easily.

"Oh," Holly mumbled, poking through her fruit salad, still not quite convinced that she could believe their explanation, but detecting no hint of surprise or deceit from any of the assembled Death Eaters.

Tom smiled at her in understanding and she was glad he didn't push the issue, instead turning back to discussing the article with Lucius.

"This article might be just what we needed, actually," the blond wizard hazarded after a while. "Rita Skeeter is not known for her accurate reporting, but she does have a considerable and loyal readership and there's enough poison and gross exaggeration in her words that certainly no-one will assume that this was written on our behest."

"Is there any information included that we did not wish released to the public?" Tom demanded. "Did she mention Holly?"

Lucius shook his head. "I strongly suspect that she was not able to get into the castle proper as her descriptions of it are simultaneously vague and flamboyantly inaccurate. Overall she included very little factual evidence in her article and she only mentions Holly in the last paragraph."

Tom spread out the paper again, running his finger down the columns until he found the corresponding section. "And what about the Girl-Who-Lived, my esteemed readers might justifiably ask? Well, this reporter is glad to confirm that she is holding her own – be it in verbal duels with her classmates or against amorous Dark Lords – doing what she does best and defying the odds."

"I didn't give myself that name, either, in case you were wondering," Holly muttered and Tom flashed her a gentle smile.

"I know, Holly," he assured her, sliding his hand underneath her hair and resting it on the nape of her neck for a moment. "Though I'm surprised she didn't pay more attention to you – she didn't even report on your Animagus form."

Holly shrugged, avoiding Tom's slightly suspicious look. "Why would it matter if she wrote anything about my Animagus form? I haven't exactly been trying to hide it."

"You're an unregistered Animagus, Holly," Tom explained. "You would be liable to prosecution."

"I'm only unregistered because I can't register yet," Holly protested, tilting her chin up defiantly when Tom gave her a sceptical look. "I talked with Professor McGonagall and she said that I cannot register as an Animagus as long as I'm still a student, but that she would put a note in my school record to forward to the Ministry once I graduate."

"I will verify that with my Ministry contacts, my Lord," Lucius offered immediately. "Though I daresay that Professor McGonagall would know how to handle such cases, rare as they might be."

Tom nodded before addressing Snape. "Please confirm this with her as well. I would not want there to be any unwelcome surprises due to some clerical error."

"Of course, my Lord." The Potions Master inclined his head in agreement. "But Minerva is not one to allow clerical errors – from her or others."

Holly huffed, not quite sure whether to feel miffed or slightly flattered that Tom was so concerned about this, about her, and decided to change the topic. "Can I invite Percy Weasley for lunch sometime?"

"I don't see why not, though I seem to remember that you were friends with a Ronald Weasley," Tom said, arching one of his eyebrows in slight question. "Is there any particular reason for this invitation?"

"Percy is one of Ron's older brothers. He used to work for Barty Crouch Sr.," Holly replied, reaching out to pat Rudolphus' arm when she felt both brothers tense. "And Winky started drinking again."

"Your second house-elf?" Tom clarified, continuing when she nodded. "I still think you skipped some steps in your explanation, Holly."

"Winky used to work for Crouch Sr. and she's unhappy with working here, working – indirectly or not – for Dark wizards," Holly explained with a sigh. "But she adored her old master and as far as I know Percy only held admiration for his boss so I'm hoping that they might get along. I want to ask Percy if he will take Winky into his employ so that she won't have to feel like she has to drown her sorrows in alcohol anymore."

Tom smiled at her, no doubt amused at what he considered unnecessary levels of concern. "Of course, Holly, you can invite him for lunch tomorrow or the day after that."

Holly beamed at him, reaching into her robe pocket for the short letter she had already scribbled out and offering it to Hedwig. Tom laughed.

"So sure I was going to say yes, kitten?"

Holly rolled her eyes and ducked her head a little to hide the blush she could feel on her cheeks. "I was prepared to argue."

Tom grinned at her, leaning in to murmur in her ear. "I don't doubt it and I'm sure I would have enjoyed your arguments, too, my little kitten. But I meant it when I said you don't have to fight anymore."

He meant it then, too, she was almost certain, his red eyes warm and open, his touch on her cheek infinitely light and careful as if he truly wished to shield her from all the evil in the world. She didn't know how to feel about that, much less what response she could offer, and thankfully Tom only smiled again and then sat back so that they could both continue their breakfast.

§*§*§*§*§

Mulciber's book signing event was scheduled for that afternoon and after a Potions lesson with Professor Snape she met Tom at the Apparition point, pleased when she spotted Rudolphus and Rabastan there as well.

"You're coming, too?" she asked them with a smile, allowing Tom to help her into her robes.

"We thought this would be a good opportunity to test the waters," Rabastan offered.

"We haven't visited Diagon Alley since before our imprisonment," Rudolphus added. "We're looking forward to seeing how much has changed."

"Not as much as you'd expect," Tom replied. "As we've all seen the Wizarding world is slow to change and that holds for Diagon Alley as well. Most of the shops have been there since its opening."

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is new," Holly pointed out. "Fred and George just opened it last year. And Fortescue's always has at least ten new ice cream flavours."

Tom chuckled. "Of course, I stand corrected. I'm sure you will be a much better guide for Rudolphus and Rabastan than I could hope to be, which is why I want you to stay with them at all times."

Holly peered up at him suspiciously, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't need bodyguards, Tom. What are you even expecting to happen?"

"Hopefully nothing, but in any case I intend to be prepared," Tom replied, ignoring her eyeroll as he continued. "Which brings me to my next point: May I see your bracelet for a moment?"

Holly hesitated briefly, but then held out her left hand, the delicate charm bracelet she had received from Sirius and Remus sparkling and dangling merrily from her slim wrist. Tom gently ran his finger under the chain and then tapped it lightly with his wand, a new charm adding itself to her bracelet. It was a tiny silver snake with ruby-red eyes, curling around itself and around the bracelet.

"It's a Portkey," Tom explained, still holding her hand and rubbing his thumb absently over her pulse point. "If you need to activate it, just say 'home' in Parseltongue and it will take you back here."

Holly nodded obediently, tracing her finger over the small trinket and feeling the soft warmth it emanated. Tom slung one arm around her waist and tucked her head under his chin.

"Let's go then," he said before popping them away, Slytherin Castle dissolving in a blinding, shuttering flash of colours, the world constricting around her, squeezing and jerking, until it felt like all her inner organs were being forcibly rearranged.

She felt her feet hit the ground again only a few moments later, but her knees buckled, her head still swirling and dark spots dancing in front of her eyes. She whimpered.

"Shh, I got you," Tom murmured, his strong arm keeping her upright. "Remember to focus on your core, Holly. Let me worry about everything else."

She tried, but her magic felt unbalanced and shaky, volatile and foreign, and though Tom had taken them to a quiet side street, away from the usual hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley, she could still feel the magic all around her, tugging at her own, and the excitements and frustrations and worries and hopes of countless people walking by. She whimpered again, black edging into her vision and her legs giving out completely.

Tom cursed, scooping her up into his arms and then setting her down a moment later, her legs slightly raised and her head resting in his lap. He placed a cool cloth on her forehead, lightly running his hands up and down her arms.

When she felt able to blink her eyes open again, Tom was still holding her, studying her with worried red eyes. She cleared her throat, a little embarrassed at her weakness, carefully sitting up on the incongruously pristine white couch that Tom or one of the Lestranges must have transfigured or conjured out of thin air.

"Sorry," she mumbled, brushing an unruly strand of hair out of her face.

"Slow down a little. You're still white as a sheet," Tom said, pulling her back against his chest as Rabastan offered her a glass of water.

"I'm fine, and we're going to be late," Holly protested, but gratefully accepted the water and started sipping on it, hoping it might help to soothe her queasy stomach.

"We still have almost twenty minutes," Rudolphus corrected, approaching from where he had presumably guarded the street entrance which was now protected by a shimmering, translucent barrier.

"And Marcus will not start without us," Tom added, caressing over her arms and studying her carefully. "Can you tell me what happened? I know you don't like Apparition, but you never fainted before."

"I didn't faint," Holly protested, a bit impressed when all three wizards almost simultaneously rolled their eyes; she sighed. "I think it was because they're too many people around and because my empathy shields aren't as tight as they were before. And don't you dare feel guilty about that." She paused to glare up at the two Lestranges, who were radiating unhappiness. "I made that choice. I knew exactly what the risks would be and I'm damn well able to take responsibility for my own actions."

Tom pressed a kiss into her hair, probably to hide a smirk, before he said, "I'll try to pick a more deserted landing area next time. Are you going to be all right, Holly? Or would you like to go home?"

"I want to go to the book signing, Tom. I want to meet my friends," Holly told him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "And Apparating again, or even using the Floo, will certainly not make me feel any better."

"I was merely asking, Holly," Tom replied with a slight eyeroll, taking a stabilising hold of her waist when she got to her feet a little too quickly and experienced another moment of vertigo. "I want you to enjoy this outing – not force yourself to get through it because you think it's your only chance to spend time with your friends. I promise it's not, so please be honest with me."

He was looking at her earnestly, no hint of deception in his eyes, and she sighed. "My stomach's still a little upset, maybe, but I'm fine, Tom, really."

"I could pop back and get a potion from Severus for you?" Rudolphus offered. "I'm sure he'll have something to help settle your stomach."

She smiled, but shook her head. "Thanks, but that won't be necessary. Can we go now? Or we'll really be late."

Tom rolled his eyes again, but acquiesced, leading them out of the side street and then through a bustling Muggle street straight towards the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't pause for a greeting and ignored the shocked silence that descended over the pub when the patrons recognized him, gently jostling Holly on when she waved to Tom, the barkeeper. Instead he quickly manoeuvred her out into the back alley, tapping his wand almost impatiently against the brick wall to open the stone archway to Diagon Alley.

Holly would have assumed that he was annoyed or angry, but all she could feel from him was worry and protectiveness, both with her empathy and with the way he kept glancing at her as if to check that she was still with him and still doing fine. She felt much the same mix of emotions from Rudolphus and Rabastan, who were trailing slightly behind like two hulking, silent shadows, only compounded by a frisson of nervousness and wariness.

It didn't help her own nerves and she really wished she had pressed Tom for an actual answer on what he expected to happen today. She suppressed a sigh, allowing Tom to steer her through the archway and into the usual cheery chaos of Diagon Alley with a guiding hand at the small of her back. She was used to being greeted with whispers and stares anywhere she went in the Wizarding world, but it was so much worse with Tom at her side. No-one dared approach them, actually jumping out of the way, quickly disappearing into the closest shop or trying to blend into the walls, and there was such a level of fear and hatred all around that Holly started to feel dizzy again.

"Holly!" her godfather's booming voice pulled her from that emotional minefield, breaking through a group of glaring wizards and striding towards her with his usual impatient energy, a big smile stretched over his handsome face.

He pulled her into his warm, safe embrace, lifting her off her feet, and she laughed, returning his open affection without restraint or hesitation.

"You came," she murmured in his ear, feeling a hundred times better with Sirius' love wrapped around her like a cosy blanket. "You said you might have to work."

"I do, actually," Sirius explained, gently setting her down and indicating the clunky camera hanging at his side. "I'm covering the book signing – with Niall, of course, since I'm still only a trainee, but if I manage to take some good pictures today, they might let me loose on some smaller events next."

"I hope you're not planning to use your connection with Holly to get those pictures," Tom commented warningly, ignoring Holly's glare.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I actually made that a condition of my employment at the Prophet. Holly is off limits, but as for you… If I catch you picking your nose or scratching your ass, you better believe that I will find a way to make that newsworthy and splash it all over the front pages."

Holly suppressed another sigh, turning her disapproving gaze onto Sirius, who only grinned unrepentantly at her and put his arm around her slight shoulders, squeezing them in reassurance. "You're looking a little pale, pup. Is everything all right?"

"Not you, too," Holly mumbled unhappily, avoiding Sirius' sharply inquisitive gaze. "Apparating here didn't agree with me."

Sirius hummed in understanding. "And I'm assuming these idiots aren't helping matters." He waved his hand to indicate everyone from Tom and the two Lestranges to the other witches and wizards milling around and bombarding them with their suspicion and anger and anxiety. "Well, good thing your friends are already here. I saw Ron and Hermione earlier – they're saving you a seat."

Holly perked up a little at that, smiling when Sirius pulled her into another sideway hug. He kept his arm around her even when Tom stepped up to her other side, the two black-haired wizards creating a very effective buffer as they walked past the still glaring wizards and entered the crowded bookshop of Flourish & Blotts.

For the book signing, some of the tightly-packed, ceiling-high bookshelves had been moved to make room for about forty or fifty chairs, most of which were already occupied, and a large, overstuffed armchair had been placed on a small raised platform surrounded by posters and book displays to showcase this newest release and the many titles that had already been published in the series.

"Holly," Tom said quietly, touching her arm to stop her just beyond the entrance. "I'm going to browse a little and we'll keep mostly in the background, but at least one of us will always be close by in case you need us."

Holly nodded a little warily, half-expecting there still to be a catch. But Tom just smiled at her, taking her hand to breathe a gentlemanly kiss onto the back of it. "Go sit with your friends, kitten, and have fun."

"Okay, thanks, Tom." Holly smiled shyly, giving the Lestrange brothers a little wave before she followed Sirius further into the bookshop.

"Best avoid that section over there," Sirius murmured in her ear, nodding towards a couple of chairs to the right. "Assorted journalists – they all heard that you and Voldemort would be here today so of course they came out in droves."

Holly shrugged, maybe not exactly thrilled with the added pressure of so much press at the event, but still excited for Sirius that he got this chance. "I'm sure you'll take some great pictures," she said, brushing a kiss over Sirius' cheek. "I'll see you later?"

"You can bet on it," Sirius agreed with a grin, just as there was a shout from one of the front rows.

"Hey! Holly, over here!" Ron shouted, waving his long arms to garner her attention, though his tall, lanky form and his shockingly red hair were always easy to spot.

Holly laughed, waving back and trying to ignore the murmur of excitement that went through the room and the flashes of cameras. "That's my cue."

"Off you go, pup," Sirius said, giving her a gentle push before breaking away in the other direction towards the assembled members of press.

She skirted around to the left of the rows of chairs, not wanting to try to weave through them and intent on keeping as wide a berth as possible between her and the press. Ron and Hermione had picked seats in the third row from the front and as she came closer she also spotted Seamus and Dean and to her surprise Draco, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe in that row.

Ron pulled her into a hug as soon as she reached them, then pulled back just as quickly with a slightly awkward pat on the back and a nervous smile. "We weren't sure you were still going to come," he muttered. "Good to see you."

"You too." Holly smiled, punching him lightly in the arm before moving on to hug Hermione and greet her other friends. "I haven't missed anything, have I?"

"No, they haven't started yet," Hermione said, casting a critical look at the still empty dais. "I really hope there'll be time for questions. I have done a bit of reading in this series and there're a couple of things I'd like to ask."

Holly noted with slight apprehension that Hermione had come well prepared, with a memo pad in her lap, the pages filled with her tight, precise handwriting. She exchanged a glance with Ron, who rolled his eyes, a well-read copy of one of the earlier books in his own hands. When she looked around, she found that most of the seats had been taken by Hogwarts students: There were a couple of Ravenclaws in the row in front of them, including Terry Boot and Michael Corner, while the very first row was filled with older Slytherin students Holly only knew from sight.

She also spotted Mulciber just to the side of the dais, talking with one of the shop assistants and Rabastan. He nodded to something Rabastan said and then took the two steps up to the dais with his newest book in hand. A hush settled over the assembled witches and wizards.

"Good afternoon," he greeted, looking around with a carefully reserved smile. "Thank you for coming. I truly did not expect such an overwhelming turnout for my first book reading. I do not wish to bore you with long speeches, but please allow me a quick word of gratitude to the fine establishment of Flourish & Blotts for making this event possible, to my publishing house, Spellbound Inc., and first and foremost my editor and long-term friend Christie Bard for their continuous support and valuable feedback. Last but not least, my gratitude goes to you, my dear readers, without whom I would not be here today."

There was a smattering of applause, rather tentative, but Mulciber seemed pleased, sinking into the armchair and opening the book at a marked page. "Volume thirteen – Grim Prospects. Let's jump right in, shall we, and start with a little excerpt from chapter two, where our heroes discover that the new year might not be as calm and unexciting as they might have hoped…"

Holly snorted, exchanging looks and grins with Hermione and Ron, thinking that this sounded very familiar, before they all settled in for the reading. Mulciber had a nice reading voice, not too theatrical, but with just enough emphasis and rhythm to engage his audience and between excerpts he would offer some background information on his characters or hint at what was still to come.

When he had concluded his last excerpt, the shop assistant joined him on the dais to thank him for his reading and explain that the audience would now have a chance to ask a few questions before the author would be happy to sign books for his fans. Next to Holly, Hermione perked up, sitting up even straighter and running her pen down the bullet list of her notes as if to order her thoughts.

But the first few questions were posed from other members of the audience, who asked about story lines that had been introduced in previous books of the series and which had not been fully resolved yet. There was particular interest in two of the characters, who from what Holly had been able to gather from the one and a half books she had read so far were engaged in a volatile on/off relationship that oscillated between steamy, desperate passion and icy, inconsolable anger. Holly had found it all rather exhausting, to be honest, but it seemed that many of Mulciber's readers were very invested in this love story, almost as much as in the new monsters and horrors hidden in the pages of his many books.

When the shop assistant finally called on Hermione, she got to her feet and cleared her throat, fixing Mulciber with her avid gaze.

Ron sank lower in his seat. "Here we go," he groaned.

"Mr. Mulciber, you describe your characters and the magical world with such brilliant, amazing detail, teasing out even the smallest nuances that might remain hidden to a casual observer, enabling your readers to discover new facets of the world they live in. But I was disappointed to find that the scenes set in the Muggle world – as in books three, eight and ten – fall very much short of that high standard. Your descriptions here remain vague and the few Muggles that make an appearance are nothing more than one-dimensional stock characters – with hardly any lines and no backstory whatsoever. So my question is this: Are you not concerned that this limited representation might add to the general ignorance of pureblood witches and wizards – who after all, make up more than eighty percent of your readership – about the Muggle world and lead to further stereotyping and prejudice against Muggleborns?"

Mulciber had listened attentively and without interruption to Hermione's long-winded question, only getting to his feet when she slowly sank back into her chair. "Thank you for this question, miss, and your very astute assessment. In truth, this is an issue both my editor and I have discussed in the past, though without being able to resolve it to our satisfaction. Earlier I talked a little about my writing process, which is very much rooted in and based on my own experiences. As I come from a pureblood family, my exposure to the Muggle world has been quite limited so far – and of course, for obvious reasons, there was no possibility to remedy that shortcoming in the last few years. I do however plan to further my knowledge in this field and gain some first-hand experiences that will hopefully also have a positive influence on my writing and enable me to paint a more accurate picture of the Muggle world."

He offered Hermione a short bow, completely ignoring the restlessness that his allusion to his imprisonment had caused, and then asked the shop assistant where he might set up to start autographing his books.

"Are you happy with his answer?" Holly asked Hermione in a whisper as they slowly filed out of the row to join the queue.

Hermione hummed, a pensive frown on her face, but then nodded. "I was surprised he answered me at all, to be honest. And I might not like his narrow view on Muggles, but I can respect his decision to only write about what he knows. And even though I was sceptical at first, I must say I learned a lot about the Wizarding world from reading his books – from small, day-to-day things that none of the nonfiction books find worth mentioning to the underlying hierarchies and governing structures of our world. It's really very educational."

"Don't ruin it, Mione, they're not supposed to be educational," Ron groused. "See… this one has a two-headed troll and a flesh-eating swamp in it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Holly quietly decided that she was not going to read that particular book, ever. She listened with half an ear to their bickering as the line slowly moved forward, only a little surprised when Draco stepped up next to her and started to small-talk about her taste in literature. They hadn't exactly become friends, but Draco had made an effort to be nicer to her, for whatever reason, sometimes joining Holly in her Potions lessons with Professor Snape and once or twice even inviting her for Quidditch games at Malfoy Manor with the rest of his group. He was good company – at least when he wasn't a spoilt, whiny little brat.

Ron kept casting baleful looks over his shoulder, though, glaring at Draco, who only smirked back, so that Holly was glad when they finally reached the front before things could escalate. Mulciber had set up behind a wide, oak desk, a modest stack of his newest book and a large inkwell filled with glittering blue ink next to him.

He rose from his armchair when he saw her, slipping into a short bow and greeting her with a soft, "My Lady."

Holly blinked up at him in surprise, pretty sure that Mulciber had not felt compelled to stand up or bow to any of the other witches present. Draco nudged her rather ungently in the side.

"What?" she demanded a little testily. "I'm not going to curtsy, Draco!"

Ron snorted out a laugh. "And thank Merlin for that."

"It's a book signing, Holly?" Draco drawled back, arching one pale eyebrow. "You might want to present him with a book to sign?"

"Oh… right," Holly said, finally noting that she was the only one in their group who hadn't come with a book in hand. She started to reach for one of the books on display. "I guess…"

"If you would allow me to recommend something, my Lady?" Mulciber asked, seeming more amused than impatient at this delay; he drew his wand and gave it a short flick, a copy of one of his earlier works sailing past Rudolphus' right ear and into his hand. "I got some mixed reviews for this one, but I daresay you might like it."

Holly studied the cover curiously, then turned the book over to read the synopsis on the back. She smiled when she had finished. Mulciber's horror series was centred around a group of young adults, just barely out of an unnamed wizarding school that strongly resembled Hogwarts, struggling with balancing their fledging careers and their complicated personal relationships all the while defending themselves against innumerous malicious creatures, cursed objects and nocuous localities. But this one book seemed to be taking a step backward, instead focusing on how they had meet and become friends and the first adventures they had mastered during their school years.

"It sounds great," she agreed, smiling up at the Death Eater, who inclined his head in thanks and then signed the copy for her.

Afterwards he turned to Hermione, thanking her again for her question earlier and telling them about some tentative plans he had made for a little writer's retreat in a Muggle town. He signed the two books she had brought with her with a flourish, thanking her again when she also requested a copy of his newest book.

Ron was next, offering his own dogged-eared copy of book eight with a clear touch of embarrassment, his freckles almost disappearing under the sudden ruddy colour of his skin. "It's my favourite so far," he murmured a little defensively.

Draco snorted loudly, echoed by Crabbe and Goyle Jr. "How would you know, Weasley? I bet you can't even read the book under all that grime. Tell me, how many pages are missing from that thing?"

He brandished his own pristine copy of the same book – the colours that were completely washed out in Ron's copy almost blindingly vibrant, the pages a powdery white whereas Ron's were yellowed with age and the couple on the front cover swirling around the aforementioned two-headed troll with drawn wands and light-footed grace while neither Ron's troll nor the two protagonists were doing much more than yawning at each other and sometimes scratching their butts.

Ron's face grew even redder and he ignored both Hermione and Holly, who tried to get him to keep his temper. "Just shut your stupid face, Malfoy. Don't you think we know you're only hanging around Holly to get a bit of the spotlight for yourself? But friendship's one thing you cannot buy with all your stinking money – just look at Stupid and Stupider next to you. That's the best you're going to get!"

"Keep telling yourself that, Weasel, I'm sure it'll make you feel so very good and self-righteous when you watch me buying this book that you can't afford," Draco replied haughtily, also ignoring Holly's pleading looks and hissed threats.

"I always take a well-read book as a compliment," Mulciber interrupted, accepting Ron's book to sign it. "And I see you both brought the same volume so perhaps your differences are not as vast as you imagine."

Both boys received that statement with overt scepticism and after Mulciber had also signed Draco's book, as well as a copy of Grim Prospects, he turned to Holly again leaning down a little with an ironic smirk. "Weasleys and Malfoys – always a rather volatile combination."

Holly grinned a little, thinking that Mulciber could probably get a lot of inspiration for his next several books if he knew even half of what fights and altercations had already occurred between them.

The people around them and the wizards and witches still waiting in line had been reasonably patient so far, most of them much too invested in trying to eavesdrop as that they were thinking of voicing any complaints about the long wait. But Holly had still noticed the members of the press gradually inching and pressing forward, quills and cameras poised and at the ready, vultures circling, and she had breathed a silent sigh of relief when she had felt the Lestranges quietly stepping up behind her, two reassuring buffers against the too avid attention she was receiving.

She still winced and shied back when one of the reporters, a heavy-set man with a bald head and incongruously bushy sideburns, suddenly called her name, ending her period of grace. "Miss Potter, why did you choose this as your first public appearance? Are you not aware of the atrocious crimes that were committed by this convicted felon?"

Holly took a deep, deep breath before reaching for one of the books on the table and opening it to the About the Author blurb. "… convicted to life without parole for incitement of insurrection, multiple counts of Dark magic, including the use of two Unforgivables, and association with the forbidden organization called Death Eaters… pardoned as part of the peace contract signed into effect just this summer… Am I missing something?"

She looked up slowly, arching one eyebrow in her best impression of Professor Snape.

"So you approve of the amnesty for all Death Eaters – wizards and witches who terrorized our world for years, murderers, rapists, traitors, Dark wizards…?"

"I approve of peace," Holly snapped back. "And if you don't agree with the terms that were negotiated, if you believe that whatever crimes were committed are so unforgiveable that you would rather return to being at war, if anyone here thinks that they paid too steep a price, you're free to take that up with your government and the people who actually made that decision.

"But I think there're graver issues with a government that likes to use people as bartering chips and a justice system that still employs capital punishments and torture and throws people at the mercy of soul-sucking creatures without even bothering to check if they're guilty first. On what evidence was my godfather convicted for a crime he didn't commit and locked up in that hell hole for almost twelve years? How many other inmates did not receive a fair trial? How many were convicted on personal opinions rather than on actual proof of guilt?"

"Does that mean you support You-Know-Who's proposed justice reform?" one of the press witches asked, but before Holly could figure out what she was referring to, the sea of witches and wizards parted for Tom, who had apparently decided that he had kept in the background long enough.

Rudolphus and Rabastan moved fluidly to the side so that Tom could step up right next to her, his arm slipping around her waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I believe it would be more accurate to say that my reform plans were inspired by Holly's strong feelings on this subject," he replied into the uneasy silence, smiling down at her. "And any further questions you might have for my wife may of course be addressed through the usual channels."

"And when can we expect an answer through those 'usual channels'?" one of the reporters challenged. "Are you being silenced, Miss Potter?"

Holly shook her head, then shrugged. "I just don't know what you want me to say."

"I believe they're waiting for you to spill some inside information or juicy details about Voldemort," Sirius commented with a dangerous smile that made some of the gathered press shift rather uneasily. "To spice up their boring lives now that you've given them peace."

Holly didn't need her empathy to hear the simmering anger in Sirius' tone, to note his belligerent glares or his protective stance. She gently nudged him in the side, sending him a grateful, calming smile, before turning her head to give Tom a considering look. He arched his eyebrows in question when she started grinning.

"He doesn't like chocolate," she finally replied. "He swears in Parseltongue and he thinks you should all stop referring to him as 'Lord Voldemort' or 'He-Whose-Name-You-Can't-Quite-Remember' or any of those other nonsense names."

Tom chuckled, his fingers caressing lightly up her spine. "There you have it. All my secrets revealed."

"And what would you like to be called, sir?" someone finally ventured, breaking into their little bubble of contentment.

"'Tom Riddle' will be fine, or of course 'Lord Gaunt' if you'd prefer," Tom answered easily, still running his hands gently over her back. "But Holly is quite right that I would like to retire any other monikers that only serve to distract from everything I wish to accomplish – as for example, a substantial justice reform to address all the issues Holly just mentioned."

There was another loaded silence, none of the reporters quite daring to pose the next question. "If there're no more questions, perhaps we should let Mr. Mulciber get back to signing his books?" Holly proposed, tugging on Tom's arm to get him moving. "We're holding up the line."

Tom smirked in amusement but gave a ready nod, cutting off the few reporters, who had suddenly found their voices again. "Of course, you're quite right, Holly. Why don't you give me a minute to pay for these books and then perhaps we could invite your friends for a round of ice cream? Marcus, congratulations on your new book."

He reached over to shake the Death Eater's hand and Holly took the chance to duck away, slipping around Rudolphus and Rabastan and moving over to Ron and Hermione, who had taken refuge between two tall shelves.

"Are you alright, Holly?" Ron asked, putting his arm around her shoulder. "Bloody parasites, the lot of them. As if it's your fault that the Ministry decided to release all those criminals."

Holly freed herself and shook her head unwillingly. "I meant what I said, Ron. What's the sense and purpose of this peace contract if people just continue stewing in their old hatreds and prejudices and don't even attempt to give each other a second chance? They were pardoned, whether or not they all deserved it, and I'm going to act accordingly and not start holding grudges against people who never did anything to me."

"Very well said, Holly Potter."

She turned around in surprise at the unknown voice, soft and rather scratchy, looking up at no other than Frank Longbottom. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with strong angular features, but the years spent near comatose in the hospital had left their mark, leaving him thin and bony, deep lines carved into his skin, and his hair turned prematurely grey. But he was smiling, his blue eyes clear and alert and his hand warm and secure as he gently shook Holly's hand. Next to him, Neville was beaming with pride, seeming to stand taller even with his father leaning heavily on his shoulder.

"Mr. Longbottom! How good to see you!" Holly greeted him happily. "How are you? How's your wife?"

"Please call me Frank. And we're doing very well – thanks to you as I understand," Frank said with another open smile. "Alice is still recovering her strength – as am I, truthfully – but the healers are very happy with our progress and we're just grateful to finally get to know our son. Grateful for this second chance."

His eyes focused on something, someone, behind Holly's shoulder. "Messrs. Lestrange. My son informs me that you had a hand in aiding our recovery as well."

"We provided Holly with our memories, Lord Longbottom," Rudolphus said. "The rest was all her."

Frank hummed thoughtfully. "I also received your letter. I was rather surprised by its contents, to be honest."

"We meant it," Rabastan said. "We did you and your family a great wrong, Lord Longbottom, and if there's anything we can do to right even just some of that, we will gladly take that chance."

Frank cast them another appraising look. "I'm inclined to believe you." He then offered his hand to Rudolphus. "To second chances: may we all use them wisely."

Rudolphus seemed shocked for a moment, not reacting immediately. But when Holly gave him a light nudge in the side, he reached out to firmly shake Frank's hand. There was a flash of a camera.

"I think I got my perfect picture," Sirius declared with a grin, lowering his camera. "Good to see you up and vertical again, Frank."

"And you, Sirius," the taller man replied with an answering smile. "I woke to a changed world and I'm still trying to make sense of everything, but I can honestly say I'm glad for at least one of these changes. James would have had all of our heads for ever doubting you."

Sirius laughed, nodding in agreement, before explaining for Holly. "Jamie's parents were Frank's godparents so James always thought of him as his honorary big brother."

"… and once Sirius started hanging out at the Potters during the holidays, I suddenly found myself with two annoying kid brothers," Frank continued, clapping Sirius on the back. "And Alice was good friends with your mother, especially after you and Neville were born. She had actually already started filling out the paperwork to get us at least temporary custody of you when…"

He broke off, some of the colour bleaching out of his face, before he brushed those memories away with a rough hand gesture. "Merlin only knows what Albus was thinking taking you to those Muggles when Lily always made it clear that that would not be an option. She once said that she thought a band of trolls might be more qualified to look after a magical child than her sister."

Holly laughed, silently agreeing with her mum's assessment, but then said, "It means a lot to me that you wanted to do that. And I'm sure I would have loved growing up with Neville as my brother," Holly said, smiling at the shy Gryffindor. "You've always had my back."

Neville blushed bright red, mumbling a soft denial under his breath, but all in all seemed pleased by her words, especially when his father squeezed his shoulders with obvious pride.

"Tom said we could go for ice creams. Would you like to come with us?" Holly asked as Tom stepped up next to her again and suppressing a sigh at the sudden tension she could feel from everyone but Rudolphus and Rabastan.

"Thank you, but I don't think I'm ready for that quite yet," Frank said, pulling his spine even straighter and meeting Tom's eyes squarely. "The circumstances might be very different now, but I still remember crossing wands with you what seems like only a few weeks ago."

"Understandable," Tom said, just managing not to sound horribly smug. "It's an adjustment for all of us, though I'm glad to hear that you're willing to give this peace a chance. Good speed for your further recovery, Lord Longbottom."

Frank inclined his head in acknowledgment before turning to address Holly again, "Our hearth will always be open to you, Holly, whatever you need. And Alice and I would love it if you could come over for lunch or dinner or both sometime."

"I'd like that, too," Holly answered immediately, turning to look pleadingly up at Tom.

But it was Sirius, who answered her silent plea. "We could set something up for this weekend, if you don't think that will be too soon for you or Alice? Holly's visiting us and I'm sure she'd be happy to have some reprieve from Remus' and my attempts at cooking."

"Remus' cooking isn't that bad. Yours on the other hand…" Holly muttered, grinning when Sirius gave her an affronted look and reached out to ruffle her hair.

"Perfect. I'll talk it over with Alice and then send you an owl with the details," Frank said.

He smiled again at her and there was a round of goodbyes, Neville and Frank going off to find the school books Neville needed, Sirius reluctantly returning to his job to finish monitoring the rest of the book signing and the rest of them directing their steps towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

Holly was glad that Hermione and Ron had agreed to this, even though they were both clearly nervous about Tom's presence and to a lesser degree that of the Lestranges. But after a short hesitation Hermione, true to form and with some gentle encouragements from Holly, started to pester Tom with questions, about everything from his policies to the Charms curriculum during his school time. A couple of weeks ago, Holly would have been terrified about how Tom might react to Hermione's at times rather pointed questions. But now she could feel Tom's amusement and the same surprising patience he always afforded Holly in their lessons and just left them to it.

Ron, on the other hand, had taken to a brooding silence, striding ahead with his long legs so that Holly had to run to catch up with him.

"I guess there's no chance of losing your guard dogs, is there?" Ron demanded with a glare back at Rudolphus and Rabastan, who had silently fallen into step behind Holly again. "I thought we'd finally get to spend some time with you."

"Ron, we talk on the Floo at least once a week and if you'd write back with the same speediness as Hermione, I'd be happy to send you letters as well," Holly refuted with an eye roll. "And don't call them that."

"Letters to recount even more about the wonderful time you're having in a damn castle full of Death Eaters and with your new best-friend Draco bloody Malfoy?" Ron sneered. "Thanks, I'll pass."

"Would you rather I was miserable?" Holly demanded angrily. "And I invited you to come join the Quidditch matches at Malfoy Manor. Hermione came, just to watch and to spend time with me. So why didn't you?"

"Holly, come on… it's Malfoy," Ron pleaded, grabbing her arm. "We've hated him since we were eleven and you heard what he just said in there. You can't tell me he's changed!"

"We all have to grow up sometime, Ron," Holly gave back testily. "I wish you'd get started on that and be my friend again because I'm so sick and tired of being everyone's peacekeeper."

She jerked her arm out his slackened grasp, sending him one last glare and then dropping back to walk between Rudolphus and Rabastan, who in turn sent her worried glances but still replied to her guileless enquiries about their favourite ice cream flavours.