Of course, one had to choose a magnificent location for a wedding if one wanted to make an impression on one's guests. What better place to do so than the Malfoys' mansion? Instead of flaunting the wealth of others, they could show off their own perfectly. Anyone who knew the Malfoys even a little knew that they had not decorated much for the wedding. The Ming vases and expensive paintings were always there.

As the day before, Draco strolled through the fireplace while the other guests were welcomed in the porch and the entrance hall. In the drawing room, a gift table had been set up with presents for the couple, on which plenty of packages were already piled up. All of them were wrapped in rich wrapping paper and ribbon and were suspiciously small. There were probably gems and gold chains rather than household items. Draco put his parcel down as well and stacked a few presents next to it and on top of it so that it wouldn't draw attention to itself. It had come in the evening with his festive robes and was suspiciously light, so Draco suspected - rather feared - that Tom had simply packed an empty shoebox.

"The toy blocks are in the next room," he was told from behind.

Startled, Draco turned around and breathed a sigh of relief when there was no Malfoy or Tom standing in the doorway, only a crusty old man with a walking stick. He was having a lot of trouble walking, as he had a huge present wedged under one arm that was threatening to fall off. He could not use his walking stick properly.

Draco made no effort to hide the diabolical grin.

"You brat, help me out!"

"Then perhaps you should have been kinder to the boys, Grayson," someone replied, stepping out from behind the old man. He pulled the large gift away from him and placed it on the gift table.

Draco nodded at him and wanted to leave. In the ballroom he would be able to disappear into the crowd of people. On his way out, he could still hear Grayson grumbling, "Have you seen Smith yet? And her new jewel?"

So Tom had been successful in persuading Hepzibah Smith to accept the invitation. This would give Borgin & Burke's a loyal customer in the future. He wondered what kind of relationship they had that Tom could have such an effect on her? Had he spent the night by her? Spent the night with her? His teeth gritted and he realised he was jealous. How ridiculous.

The ballroom was decorated with flowers and all kinds of white gossip, so that Draco almost didn't recognise it. In the middle of the room was a huge round table at which the Malfoy and Avery families were seated. Around this, arranged in daisies, were other smaller round tables for the guests. They were all taken except for a few seats in the corners of the room. But Draco wasn't sad about it, at least this way he wouldn't draw attention to himself.

As he sat down, he nodded to the others at the table. They eyed him with narrowed eyebrows. Only then did he notice the place card next to his cup.

Miss Dolohov

"You are not Miss Dolohov," the woman next to him addressed him.

"No, uh, Draco Manthey is my name."

"This is the singles table." The scales fell from his eyes. All those present at his table were young women who were not yet married and had not come as plus ones from anyone. "Over there is the one for the gentlemen." She pointed to a table that was on the other side of the aisle.

"Oh, excuse my intrusion, it was an accident, you'll have to take my word for it," Draco stammered. He squinted at the other table and saw a young Antonin Dolohov sitting there, glaring at him. "Where is Miss Dolohov?" asked Draco of the other women.

"I'm sitting here," said the young woman sitting opposite him.

The woman who had just addressed him leaned towards him and whispered: "She wanted to sit so that she would not be in his field of vision. Now you are definitely blocking his view."

Draco turned back to Dolohov, a blush of anger rising in Antonin's cheeks. "I'm sorry about that."

"Thank you."

He swallowed and didn't know what to say in response. "I shouldn't stay here..." Just as he was about to get up, the registrar began to speak.

"We are gathered here today to solemnise the marriage between two..."

"Stay," said another lady and the others nodded affirmatively. "It would be rude to get up in the middle of the ceremony."

And so Draco stayed where he was, feeling the probing gaze of Dolohov at his back.

"Today, beloved Abraxas, I join my life to yours, not only as your wife, but as your friend, your lover, your confidante. Let me be the shoulder on which you lean and the stone on which you rest. I promise to celebrate your victories and love you even more in defeats. Abraxas, today I give you my heart and I vow to walk with you, hand in hand, wherever our journey takes us. We will live, learn and love, together and forever."

"Did you see him?" one young woman whispered to the other. Miss Dolohov leaned closer to the two to understand what they were gossiping about.

The other nodded devoutly. "He had had so many suitors then, but not one did he pay any attention to. Only his friends, his knights." She giggled. "I always thought he was strange, honestly. If they had known earlier that he is..."

"Into wrinkles?" The other grinned insinuatingly.

"Who are you talking about?" asked Miss Dolohov, looking around searchingly.

"About him," one pointed with her head into the crowd. "The man next to Hepzibah Smith..."

Draco turned around as well and froze when he spotted Tom. Wearing a sinfully expensive suit, no doubt tailor-made, he sat next to the old lady and from a distance could be seen holding her hand under the table and stroking her fingers. Smith kept talking softly to him, not following the ceremony at all, where Abraxas had just spoken. Instead, Tom's eyes were literally glued to Malfoy. He stared at him as if hypnotised and absent-mindedly twisted the ring around Hepzibah Smith's index finger.

A needle-sharp pain bored into Draco's heart. He gasped briefly, but when the girls looked at him, he preferred to hold his breath. He could not show any weakness or he would be eaten by sharks like Tom.

"Dearest Ariana, I promise to be a faithful and trusting partner to you from this day forward and throughout our lives. I promise to promote your mercy, because it makes you unique. I promise to be your partner in everything, not to see you as a possession, but to work together with you as a part of the whole."

Tom was romantically involved with a customer, not just any customer...Hepzibah Smith. A woman in her seventies, respected, nay, notorious in magical society. She adorned herself with him, a young, exceptionally handsome shop assistant. But what did he get out of it? Surely he didn't really believe that a lewd relationship would bring him recognition from the old and venerable families? He wasn't that stupid, he couldn't be that stupid.

"You may kiss the bride now."

Cheers erupted when Abraxas' lips touched those of his newly-wedded wife. They did not love each other, but they would spend the rest of their lives together. His father, Lucius Malfoy, would come from this arranged marriage. It saddened Draco because he knew that neither Abraxas nor Lucius would ever say many words about Ariana. He didn't even know what would happen to her, only that she wouldn't be around fifty years later.

He stood in the crowd as if stunned, a glass of red wine in his hand, which he sipped from time to time in a token manner. He had retreated to a corner in the ballroom to hide from Imogene and Armand, whom he did not want to meet again, and vice versa. It was quite enough that he saw Armand dancing with Ariana through the gaps in the crowd.

"So this is where you've been hiding."

"Don't scare me like that!" Draco winced and accidentally spilled the red wine on himself when Tom came out of nowhere to stand beside him and address him. He frantically tried to limit the stains on his ceremonial cloak under the judging gaze of Tom, who impatiently kept tapping the floor with the tip of his foot.

"I can't help it that I do a much better job at hiding than you do," Tom grumbled.

Draco had to let out a snort, which earned him another annoyed look from Tom. "Everyone is talking about you and your choice of..."

"Companionship?" Tom peered into the distance. "I'm accompanying her, you know that already?"

"Of course, without them no one would have let you in. I don't think Borgin & Burke would appreciate you being with their clients..." Draco searched for the right word. "Seducing them."

"Either you're jealous" - Draco snorted, Tom was handsome but he was...yes, what was he? - "Or you're more naive than you look," Tom growled indifferently. "Well, come along. We need to wash this stain out before it dries up." He waved him over and together they ran into the washroom, where Tom first checked to see if anyone else was present besides them.

Draco had a queasy feeling. "I didn't accidentally spill it on myself, did I? You helped yourself."

When all the cubicles turned out to be empty, Tom locked the door with a spell and turned to Draco, grinning conspiratorially. "You know your way around this house. I've been watching you today."

"Abraxas was showing me around when I asked him for an invitation," Draco lied hastily.

Tom squinted one eye. He had seen through it, seen through him. "Blonde hair, pale skin, grey eyes. You look very much alike. The first moment I saw you, I thought you were him."

Draco shook his head. "But ... he has pockmarks. We should be easy to tell apart."

"He looks so different now. Not like Abraxas at all."

Draco almost forgot that his grandfather had these significant scars only recently. "You were close?" When Tom glared at him, he added, "Abraxas mentioned something like that."

"You're so alike." Tom looked past him, but when Draco turned around, there was no one behind him.

"Then why don't you talk to him if you want to make up?" murmured Draco.

Tom's face remained unreadable. The mask was in place. He feigned no emotion, but kept his facial expressions calm as deep water. Draco's words seemed to roll off him. "I have repaired the vanishing cabinet. It stands as functional as the first day at Borgin & Burke's. Now you must fulfil your part of the bargain."

"What do I have to do?"

Tom looked deep into his eyes, Draco looked back. He felt dizzy, swaying without moving. Or was he trembling? Were his knees shaking? He couldn't tell, for he was beside himself. Nothing seemed to exist any more, nothing in the world, just Tom Riddle's dark eyes flashing like two reflectors.

"You have the eyes of Abraxas," Tom muttered.

"What?"

"I meant you have eyes like Abraxas," he quickly corrected himself and took a step towards Draco. "They look alike, almost to a fault."

Draco nodded. Why should he deny it either? Tom wouldn't be fobbed off with an excuse anyway. "I'm his half-brother, an illegitimate son of Armand." Besides, he was so good at explaining why he'd introduced himself as Malfoy when they first met and why the barrier in the fireplace had let him through, should Tom ever ask how he'd got through the wedding party's admittance control.

But Tom didn't ask, just stared at him. How unusual for the usually eloquent Riddle.

"What do I have to do?" asked Draco excitedly because Tom was letting so little shine through. Where did he stand with him? Draco did not know.

Tom stepped closer. His gaze flitted over Draco's face, examining every patch of his skin. He wandered over his forehead, along his eyebrows, and then over the bridge of his nose until he stopped at his lips. His breath caressed Draco's face. Lemon scent rose to his nose.

Tom came closer and closer. Slowly he rested his forehead against Draco's and looked deep into his eyes. Draco looked back unblinkingly, for Tom's irises sparkled like a pearl in the shallow sea water. Dracos forgot everything around him, the bathroom décor, the wedding, what he was here for. His eyelids dropped, he felt like he was sinking into a light slumber. Only Tom's lips on his, that warm feeling, and his smell of parchment and lemons lingered in the darkness. And Abraxas, old and weak, plagued by dragon pox, close to death. Strange that he should think of it at this moment of all times.

A sharp pain jerked through his skull. Under the pressure of Tom's lips, his mouth dropped open once more and a gurgling groan escaped him. Shakily, Draco exhaled, right onto Tom's tongue. What had that been? The sudden pain, as sharp as a knife thrust, had split his head and then disappeared again, as abruptly as it had come.

Draco was left feeling somehow empty. Tom, however, rested his forehead against Draco's again and looked deep into his eyes. His gaze was neither blurry nor seduced nor relishing, but ice-coldly calculating.

Startled, Draco took a step back and pulled himself out of the arms Tom had wrapped around him. "What did you do?" he roared at Tom. "Have you been looking into my head? This is...assault!"

Against all expectations, Tom remained calm. "Why would I, do you have something to hide?"

Draco swallowed and must have looked completely caught off guard. There is no turning back, he admonished himself. He would assert himself now, not let himself be lulled by Tom again. The kiss, the gentle meeting of their lips, burned on his as he spoke, "No...Not me..."

He needed a distraction. It was hard to manipulate a manipulator. Who knew how to pull people's strings. Tom had proved he could play Hepzibah Smith like a puppet. "Are you prostituting yourself?" he asked the first thing that came to mind, and in retrospect could have slapped himself for it.

His counterpart's eyebrows drew together. His diversionary tactic had indeed been successful. Tom was plenty confused and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Hepzibah Smith, your relationship is highly immoral," Draco enthused. "And now you want to drag me into it too. You...you...you kissed me!"

He shook himself, his lips still tingling from the gentle touch. No one had ever touched him so gently before. In general...Tom was a very circumspect and gentle guy. He crept through rooms and crowds, dancing like a feather in the wind without meeting any resistance. He would get involved in conversations and give someone ideas, only to have them think they were his own. Tom was undoubtedly a talented magician and he demonstrated his skills without having to emphasise them. They spoke for themselves.

Draco had always thought gentleness a weakness, but Tom...his tenderness was powerful.

When Tom reached for his hand, he did not pull it away. Draco realised: this queasy feeling that kept creeping up on him when he was near Tom...He felt drawn to him like one magnet to another.

"Come, I'll show you what I want you to do."

Draco let himself be dragged out of the bathroom, which lay along a narrow corridor connected to the ballroom by a long staircase. From up there, one could observe the hustle and bustle in the hall unnoticed, because the gallery of the corridor was far above the normal field of vision of a visitor. You had to consciously put your head back.

The party was in full swing. A string quartet was playing a waltz, many couples were dancing. Around the dance floor, more people stood and watched while others chatted at the tables. The buffet was well attended. Laughs broke out regularly from the confusion of voices.

"What do you want to show me?" asked Draco.

"Do you see Abraxas with his wife?"

Draco had to look for a few seconds, but then he saw them both standing at the buffet by the drinks. Abraxas poured himself a whiskey, holding the bottle with such panache that he filled the glass to the brim and a puddle formed around it. Ariana stared at him reproachfully, the blush of embarrassment on her cheeks. "They already look miserable together."

"He asked for it," Tom growled and Draco searched his gaze to understand where this bitterness was coming from. "Don't look at me like that.

"How?"

"With that puppy dog look, don't do that."

Quickly Draco turned his head away.

"You have such a look in your eyes," Tom continued anyway. "Like a little lamb that's been separated from the flock and keeps bleating: 'Leave me alone or I'll run to my mummy'."

Draco swallowed. "I didn't."

"Then prove me wrong."

The company laughed when the strings began to play a new song that was faster and more dynamic than the previous one. Draco got the feeling that his legs were frozen. He clawed at the balustrade so Tom wouldn't see that his fingers were shaking. Actually, he didn't care what Tom thought of him, he didn't even really know him. On the other hand, Tom was a talented magician and intelligent and so gently he had touched his lips. He could be so inviting and gentle.

"What do I have to do?", Draco heard himself ask. He just wanted to go home.

"Kill Abraxas' wife."

"Excuse me?"

"I told you to kill Abraxas' wife."

"Ariana?"

"Yes."

Draco's heart was beating up to his larynx. He felt sick. "You're not serious ..."

"I'm not joking."

"Why...", Draco stumbled over the words on his tongue, "do you detest her so? What has she done to you?"

"How important is a functioning vanishing cabinet to you?" Tom's lips were pressed together in a thin line.

"I'm not doing this. I won't. I can't." Draco shook his head violently that he almost lost his balance and tumbled down the stairs.

"So you're too weak then..."

"It's not about weakness-"

"It would be perfect!" Tom raised his arms in the air. "You kill her and then you travel back to your time."

Draco's mouth dropped open. "You know?"

Tom laughed derisively. "Your gawking in the shop...you couldn't have blurted it out louder."

It was as if something inside him had broken. He slumped, his head crashed against his sternum and his knees went weak. He swayed like a ship in a storm and only Tom's hand, which closed imperiously around his upper arm, gave him support. He had to think back to their kiss, which now seemed so foreign to him, as if another book had been opened.

"Draco Malfoy." Tom shook him lightly. "You have responsibilities. Your being here in the timeline can do serious damage. You can wipe out the existence of hundreds of people just by addressing the wrong person."

"You can't ask me to kill someone then!" snorted Draco. "Her, moreover?"

"Her?"

"My grandmother! You want me to erase myself."

Tom looked at him thoughtfully and hope grew in Draco that he would desist from his plan. His grip on Draco's upper arm loosened. "You don't know the first thing about time travel..."

"I can put one and one together."

"We're talking about time travel here, one and one is not two, it's three point one four one five nine, I can move on."

"You just said yourself that my presence threatens the existence of hundreds of people!"

"Of hundreds of people in your presence, not here where you are. And you are here and then when you travel, you are there. You can't just disappear into nothingness or fizzle out."

Draco chewed on his lip, his movements becoming more forceful until he had the taste of blood in his mouth.

"Do you know what a paradox is?" asked Tom, although they probably both knew Draco hadn't a clue. "Don't worry about it. If you stay here...in the past, that is...then the space-time line is much more threatened than if you kill a single, unimportant person."

"But..." stammered Draco.

"Yes, she may be your grandmother," Tom said as if it were nothing, "but her death will not endanger your existence. Your existence will become a paradox - but it already was when you first set out on this journey. You will continue to exist, don't be ridiculous. One can't measure magic with physical laws. And you have nothing to fear, Draco! You'll only be here for a short time anyway, no one will miss you. In fact, I doubt anyone will remember you." The corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably. "A murder without a murderer."

"What did she do to you?" asked Draco.

Tom's smile died. They both looked into the crowd again, but this time they could only spot Ariana, who was smiling shyly and listening to the allure of a guest.

"It's not about Ariana," chimed in behind them. "He wants to hurt me, but he can't get to me anymore."

They whirled around. Behind them Abraxas had built himself up. His normally pale face was as red as an ox. A vein pulsed at his temple. The fresh pockmarks shone and gave him a monster-like appearance.

Oh, by Merlin and Salazar, how much had he heard? Draco looked around for an escape route, but the only option was to run into the bathroom and that would be a dead end. While he instinctively ducked away, Tom reared up to his full height. His fingers wrapped around his wand and he pressed its tip against Abraxas' chest. "Think carefully about what you're doing. I don't give out second chances."

Abraxas snorted and pushed Tom's wand aside. "You should have-"

He fell abruptly silent as Tom muttered a spell and an orange spark released. A flash of lightning lit up in the darkness, but fizzled out when Abraxas simply squeezed it with his hand.

Draco drew in a startled breath and a low growl escaped from Tom's throat.

"I'm tired of it, Tom," Abraxas thundered.

The music paused.

Almost all heads turned towards them.

The clamour of voices died away.

"You weren't invited," Abraxas hissed. "I'm not even going to start ranting about what I just heard!"

Draco flinched, but Tom made no move. No movement on his face, only his fingers twitched. His wand, still pointed at Abraxas' chest, swayed slightly back and forth, as if something might boil over inside him at any moment.

Draco was trembling with anxiety, for by now he knew that Tom was unpredictable. Abraxas was certainly aware of this too, but he was at rest within himself. With a serene and fearless look, he gazed at Tom, whose trembling with anger grew even stronger.

The people present acknowledged this by taking out their wands and pointing them at Tom. All against one.

Hepzibah Smith stood in the crowd with her head tilted questioningly. For the first time that evening, her lips were still. She had just been talking to Armand and he apologised to her with a curt nod before pushing his way through the crowd.

"Neither of you were invited," he growled to Tom and Draco. "How dare you oppose that? And then you come here and put Abraxas in such trouble?"

"Sorry, Mr Riddle came on my responsibility," Hepzibah Smith interjected. "I hadn't thought the gulf between them was so wide."

Armand made a hand gesture, whereupon some guests approached with their wands raised. They wanted to surround Tom and Draco. Draco's neck prickled at the thought of it, as if a noose was tightening around it. He looked at the different faces, but they all looked back with hostility.

"Sorry we stretched your patience," Draco said, marvelling himself at how firm his voice sounded. He suddenly knew exactly what to do and walked up to Tom to put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll make our way home now, I promise."

Tom simply shook him off. Disgusted, he looked at him and Draco pulled his hand back in horror. No sooner had he let go of him than Tom turned, grunting, and stomped away. How he could still carry his head so high was beyond Draco, yet he wanted to run after him. He too was not welcome and did not want to be tarred and feathered by the angry mob.

"You stay," Abraxas barked after him and the words made him stumble.

"Abraxas?", Draco heard Armand ask. "What are you doing?"

"Excuse me a moment, I have something to clear with him."

Before Draco knew what was happening to him, Abraxas' fingers clawed at his collar and he was dragged away. "Abraxas, that's not proper," Armand muttered and Imogene, who had just stepped out of the crowd, also made a puzzled expression, but Abraxas would not be dissuaded.

Draco's feet dragged across the parquet and curses and begging escaped him, but no amount of pleading helped. Abraxas stared straight ahead and only paused when they arrived in the drawing room in front of the fireplace through which Draco had also come.

"It was Tom's idea," Draco said breathlessly. "He talked me into it, no, forced me into it! I didn't really want to come, but the vanishing cabinet is broken and only he can fix it! My work-"

"He told you that?"

"Uh, what?"

Disapprovingly, Abraxas raised his eyebrows, looking like his father. "That he's the only one who can fix the vanishing cabinet."

Draco thought about it for a moment and wasn't sure if Tom had said it so clearly. In any case, he had assumed so. He nodded.

"Come on!"

That everyone always had to give him orders instead of explanations! But Abraxas was still too angry to argue with him. They travelled by flea network to Nocturngasse and walked in silence to Borgin & Burke's. Once there, however, they were faced with a locked door. Of course, Borgin and Burke were attending the wedding they had just come from.

Draco's mouth dropped open as Abraxas pulled a key from his trouser pocket. "How, did you...steal it?"

"Of course not!" Abraxas looked at him, annoyed. "Tom gave it to me." He unlocked the door and they entered.

"What happened between you two?" asked Draco. "You hate each other so much...so deeply..." He frowned at himself. Where had his word-finding problems come from again? "You said earlier that he wanted to hurt you. Why?"

Abraxas swayed his head back and forth, he shook it and his hands trembled as he said: "I warn you. Tom is a spitfire, but he is also cold-hearted. And he's brilliant, but always calculating. Don't get involved with him too."

I warn you.

Don't get involved with him.

Draco swallowed. Tom, of all people, knew his secret, that he came from the future.

"You're a Malfoy," Abraxas said suddenly. "But not from here...not from today."

For the second time, Draco's heart skipped a beat. "How do you know?"

Again Abraxas looked at him reprovingly.

"Tom told you," Draco concluded. "That bastard."

But Abraxas shook his head and pointed to Draco's coat, "Madame Malkins, founded 1975" was written on the embroidered emblem. "And then there was the chimney that you could just walk down. If you were my father's illegitimate child, my mother would have found out years ago. Shortly after your birth, to be exact. She has her ways."

"Tom claimed he could tell by my manner, by how confused I reacted at first."

"Tom likes to make himself bigger than he is."

"He's a-"

"Don't insult him," Abraxas interrupted him.

"What did he do?"

"You don't want to know." Abraxas seemed sad.

Don't get involved with him also. "Tom and you?"

Abraxas slammed his fist on the sideboard and an ancient vase with snarling hieroglyphics fell to the floor and shattered. The shards scattered at their feet, but Draco felt no pain. He was in a daze.

"Is that so outrageous?" Abraxas made a gurgling sound, as if anger was choking his throat.

Draco took a step back and a sharp edge pierced his sole. He gritted his teeth and shifted his weight awkwardly. You have Abraxas' eyes, Tom had said. His heart stabbed as if his chambers were being held together by a hot needle. Draco wiped his hand over his face and kneaded the bridge of his nose.

Had Tom only kissed him because he wanted to spite Abraxas? Or was he trying to replace Abraxas with him? Bile rose in his mouth. Guaranteed Tom had not approached him because of himself.

Why was he brooding about it at all? Who was Tom anyway? A forbiddingly handsome youth in the 1940s, talented enough to be admired but not enough to hold a respected social position. Someone who sold his body, who clearly wasn't worthy of himself, but demanded to be valued by others. Unstable as a house of cards. Draco shook his head as if he had to get rid of an evil spirit.

"You shouldn't become Tom's enemy, I can't recommend that to anyone," Abraxas snapped him out of his thoughts. "Being his friend, however, is just as hazardous." With these words, he opened the door from the vanishing cabinet. "I know I'm not allowed to ask any more questions and that's why I also insist that you start your journey back now."

Draco nodded negligently and stood in the chamber. Abraxas threw the door shut and, once the darkness had settled over him, he felt the magic shoot through his body. Faintness seized him.