Tom did not enjoy chaperoning Hermione to the McKinnon farm for Ignis's apparition lessons. The location afforded beautiful mountain vistas, and Tom's yeti-fur robes and Hermione's discrete warming charms made the cold wind feel bracing rather than painful, so it should have been a pleasant outing. Hermione's skill at healing the werewolf after his apparition accidents was impressive, but Tom would have preferred hearing concise summaries of the accidents afterwards to witnessing them in person. Several times, Tom had to look away, admiring the mountain scenery, as Hermione, with calm efficiency, reattached a splinched limb, or returned an internal organ to its proper place.

Tom attempted to foist chaperoning duties off on his parents, but even his father, upon hearing Hermione's description of the lessons, insisted that Tom should spend time with people his own age. "I wouldn't dream of taking this opportunity from you," he chortled.

Tom even tried telling Hermione that this old-fashioned custom of chaperoning young ladies could be dispensed with, but Ignis, damn him, wouldn't hear of it. "I'd rather not have apparition lessons at all than risk damaging a young lady's reputation by being alone with her," he said, so that was that. Thus, Tom (with a disillusioned Dobby), Hermione, and Ignis apparated around Orncrag together. The fresh mountain air was the only thing that kept Tom from losing his lunch.

—-

Tom was safely in his office, calculating wolfsbane numbers, when the telephone rang. Tom ignored it. Tom and his father, after much discussion, had agreed that Tom would take on most of the wizarding tasks, while his father would take back the muggle tasks that he had so recently handed off to his son. Tom's father was not completely happy with this, wanting more involvement in the wizarding world himself, but he'd grudgingly agreed that this was a practical arrangement. Thus, Tom took most Floo-calls in his office, while his father took most telephone calls in his own office.

The phone stopped ringing. Tom focused on his wolfsbane sales projections.

Pop. Dobby appeared. "Master, Squire Riddle says one of your inbred aristocrat friends is on the telephone."

"Thank you, Dobby." As Dobby popped away, Tom lifted the telephone receiver off the switch hook, brought it to his ear, and spoke into the transmitter. "Hello?" He heard the click as his father hung up.

"Tom! What ho! How are you holding up?"

"Hello Algie. How are things in London?"

"Now Tom, when I ask you how you're holding up, in this case I actually want an answer."

"As well as can be expected," Tom replied.

"That bad, eh? I haven't spoken to you for ages, so I was just thinking of you, you know. Listen, would it help if I came up to visit? I don't mean to drag you down to London for a night of debauchery if you're not feeling it, but perhaps some company up there would help?"

"Has the Royal Society commissioned you to lead an expedition to the wilds of Yorkshire?" asked Tom. "Have you hired sled dogs and sherpas yet? Be sure to pack sufficient phonograph records and champagne, for you may have to traverse miles of barren terrain between jazz clubs in this desolate land."

The only son and heir of the Earl of Lichford had a laugh like a duck. "I'm glad you've kept your sense of humor through this. Yes, I am willing to leave my beloved London to visit you. Friends make these sacrifices for each other, you know. Let me take you out to whatever the locals there do for fun. Um. What do people actually do up there? Morris dancing or something?"

"Thank you Algie, that's very kind of you. Even your voice has cheered me. I think I am ready to meet you in London."

"Oh thank God. No offense, but—"

"None taken." Tom drew Tessie's card from his wizarding wallet. It smelled like the ephemeral flowers of spring. "You're not the only one urging me to go out to get my mind off my troubles. That's exactly what some of my other friends have been saying. Do you know the Prewett family?"

"Doesn't ring a bell, sorry."

Of course it didn't, but Tom had to go through the motions. "I thought you might have run into them at some society gala."

"Whenever familial duty requires me to attend such stuffy events, I get sozzled as quickly as possible, so if I have been introduced to them, I don't remember."

"Anyway, my friend Tessie Prewett agrees with you that I need a change of scenery. She'd like to accompany me to London, as she knows I used to enjoy myself there, although she doesn't know her way around it herself. She spends most of her time at their country estate." Wizarding culture permitted witches a surprising amount of autonomy within the constraints of their blood-purity obsession, so Tessie had Floo-called Tom without shame, taking him at his word that he wanted new friends to distract him from his troubles. "Let's all go out together. Tessie is a respectable girl, so her family doesn't allow her out without a chaperone. Her brother Axel will join us."

"The more the merrier. So, that'll be you, me, and this Axel Prewett fellow, so that makes, what, three blokes?"

"Yes, Algie, your calculation is correct."

"And only one girl. That's not right. There won't be enough dance partners to go around. Got any more girls?"

"I could ask Hermione, I suppose. No, I'd better not, she'll be busy with Tommy."

"Who?"

"Tommy, my son."

"No, who's the girl?"

"Oh. Hermione Granger, the daughter of a business associate of my father. She's visiting from Australia. She happened to arrive around the same time as Tommy, so she's taken it upon herself to care for my motherless child. She's a recent orphan herself, so she feels for him."

"What, you hired an Australian nursemaid?"

"No. She's the heiress of her father's opal-dealing fortune, now starting a new life in Britain, as she desired to get away from the memories of her dead parents."

"You never mentioned your family having any connection to Australia."

"Yes I did. I mentioned my father's meetings with his Australian business associates frequently. Don't you remember me saying I was glad he was finally branching out from his old-fashioned focus on real estate? He did very well speculating in the Australian opal market. You must have been drunk and not paying attention."

"Probably," agreed Algie. Creative lies weren't necessary to fool Algie, but Tom believed in art for art's sake. "So how old is this girl?"

"Twenty."

"Tom. You've been living with an exotic twenty-year-old heiress and keeping her all to herself? This is suspicious behavior for a new widower."

Tom laughed. "Oh Algie, your suspicions would be immediately relieved if you met her."

"Why, what does she look like?"

"She's…" Tom found himself at a loss. "Well. Of course, it would be rude to insult the appearance of our guest."

"That bad, eh? What, she's got eyes that look in different directions or something?"

Tom shuddered. "No, nothing like that. She's fine, I suppose. Skinny, though. Well, but sort of top-heavy if you know what I mean. And she hasn't bobbed her hair."

"Old-fashioned girl, eh?" surmised Algie.

"Not at all. Exceedingly modern. I think she refuses to follow fashion out of obstinacy or something."

"So what's wrong with her?"

Tom thought. "It's as if she doesn't care if she's beautiful or not. She's not even trying."

"She may have set her sights higher than the son of a country squire." That stung. Conversing over the telephone freed Tom from any obligation to suppress his scowl. "Her loss," continued Algie blithely. "Anyway, you must at least show the girl a good time while she's here. Imagine visiting an exciting country like this and being stuck in Yorkshire."

"I suppose I could ask her. I'll call you back in a few minutes."

A few minutes was all it took. Tom called Algie back. "Hermione gives her regrets, as she has, I quote, 'No interest in being the only sober person in a group of drunks.' Also she says she's busy with the baby."

"Ah. Teetotaler, is she?"

The simple answer to that was "Yes."

"Poor Tom, having to put up with such a houseguest on top of everything else, in that tiny house."

"The Riddle House isn't tiny. It's the biggest house in Little Hangleton."

"Well, anyway. Sounds like we dodged a bullet. That's all right, I'll invite a couple of my friends. Have I introduced you to Lulu and Nancy?"

Tom couldn't recall. Algie's female friends all seemed to blur together. "I don't think so."

"They're great, a couple of chorus girls at the Regal. Honest girls, you know, but fun. They can dance. Their next show is in rehearsal, so they have evenings off. How about this Friday the eleventh?"

"I'll ask the Prewetts if they're available. I'll call you back soon."

"Righto."

Tom hung the telephone receiver on the switch hook and threw a pinch of Floo powder in the fireplace. "Shell Cottage." If there was an elegant way to stick his head in the green flames, he hadn't found it yet.

Mrs. Prewett answered the call. "Oh, Mr. Riddle! How delightful to hear from you! How are you?"

"I've decided to go muggletouring this Friday evening, and hope that Tessie can join me."

"Wonderful! Tessie's available Friday. Of course her brother Axel will chaperone her. We never let such a treasure as Tessie out unguarded."

In the background, outside his field of vision, Tom thought he heard, faintly, "But didn't Axel say—"

"They'll be so excited when I tell them," said Mrs. Prewett quickly, so Tom couldn't hear the rest of what the faint voice had said.

"Thank you," said Tom.

"What should they wear?" asked Mrs. Prewett.

"It doesn't matter what they start out in. Please have them Floo to the Riddle House at seven. I'll lend them some muggle clothes before we go out."

"Wonderful! They'll be there Friday."

"I'm looking forward to it. Good day."

"Good day."

Tom withdrew his head from the fire. Telephones had much to recommend them over Floo-calling, he thought as he looked with dismay at a dusting of ash on his collar. "Dobby!"

Pop. "Yes Master?"

"This ash. Get rid of it."

Dobby did, quickly.

"Thank you." Tom called Algie back. "The Prewetts are available Friday."

"Perfect," said Algie. "Meet me around eight at the Café de Paris, on Coventry Street, you remember?"

"Probably better than you," said Tom. He always made a point of being less drunk than his companions. He couldn't understand Hermione's aversion to the situation.

"Righto."

—-

When they gathered in the drawing room before dinner, it took some explaining to get Hermione to understand Tom's plan.

"Dancing," she repeated, with an uncharacteristically befuddled expression.

"Yes. You know. Music. Movement. Alcohol optional but recommended."

"But why are you taking a witch and wizard with you?"

"I am making friends. This is the sort of thing friends do together, go out and have fun. If I hope to fit into the wizarding world I need some friends, and one doesn't need many murderers in one's social circle. Serpens fills that role adequately. I'll get to know the Prewetts and see what they're good for. A muggle setting provides a convenient excuse for me to refrain from casting spells. How did you make friends in the wizarding world?"

"We fought a mountain troll together."

Tom laughed. "That sounds a bit too exciting."

Hermione shrugged. "It worked for me. I didn't really have any friends until I did that."

"I'll keep your suggestion in mind in case dancing doesn't work out. Anyway, may Tessie borrow your new muggle clothes?"

"Sure. Your family bought them anyway. I don't know why I even need so many clothes."

"I'll help her dress with style," said Tom's mother. "Dobby?"

Pop. "Yes Mrs. Riddle?"

"Can you magically tailor muggle clothing to make it temporarily fit others?"

"Yes Mrs. Riddle."

"Perfect."

"And I'll loan her brother one of my suits," said Tom. "This will be great fun."

—-

Friday evening soon arrived, along with the Prewett siblings. Tom met them as they stepped out of the Floo. "Good evening," he said. "Welcome to the Riddle House."

"Good evening," said the young wizard as he cleaned Floo-ash off himself. He had the physique of a young man who did not engage in Müller system exercises, or indeed any regular calisthenics, so Dobby would have his work cut out for him in modifying Tom's suit to fit him. On second thought, Tom changed his plan. One of his father's suits would require less adjustment than one of Tom's own. After a skeptical look at Tom, the wizard apparently resigned himself to his fate and stuck his hand out to shake. "Axel Prewett."

"Tom Riddle," said Tom, shaking his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you."

Tessie, once she'd stepped out of the Floo and cleaned ash off herself, looked around Tom's office with great interest, her gaze finally settling on Tom. "Oh, my," she said breathlessly. "I mean, good evening, Tom." She pulled her gaze away to briefly look at her brother. "You see, Axel? You had no cause to worry about wearing muggle clothes, when wizards can look as handsome as that in them."

"Results may vary," said Tom. "This way to the drawing room. I have some muggle costumes for you, which our elf can adjust to fit."

Tom was pleased to see that the Prewetts seemed impressed with their surroundings. In the brief time that Dobby had been in Tom's employ, he'd burnished the Riddle House to an even higher glow. There was nothing that blatantly violated the Statute, but the perfection of every surface would have been hard to achieve without magic.

In the drawing room, Tom introduced the Prewetts to his parents (elegantly attired in robes) and Hermione (presentable in muggle evening dress, and wearing Tommy in a sling.) Tom sent his father off to fetch one of his muggle suits for Axel.

Tessie, upon meeting Hermione, squealed. "The Australian duelist? I'm so excited to meet you."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Hi." She looked like she might apparate away right then.

"I have so many questions!" Tessie continued. "To start, who does your hair?

Hermione blinked at her. "I do."

"Really?" Tessie was in awe. "The serpentine animation charm and everything?"

At that point, Tommy's slobbery little fist snagged one of Hermione's wayward curls as if he wanted to claim credit for her style, so Hermione gently extracted it. "I know you don't mean it, but you must let go of my hair."

"And this must be your son!" Tessie said to Tom. "He's adorable! May I hold him?"

Hermione clutched Tommy a little tighter.

"I know how to hold a baby," Tessie assured Hermione. "I have so many cousins, I hold babies all the time."

Tom nodded to Hermione, so she grudgingly gave up Tommy.

As promised, Tessie held Tommy expertly. "He's absolutely perfect! Look at those chubby cheeks! You must have hired a good wet nurse for him," she said to Tom.

"I took a wet nurse potion myself," said Hermione.

"Of course," said Tessie. "I'd have done the same. Oh, look at those eyes! He looks just like you, Tom. He's so beautiful."

"Thank you," said Tom. "But I think any objective observer would say that my son is more beautiful than I am. I haven't yet managed to perfect the drooling technique that comes naturally to him."

Tessie laughed. "Oh Tom, you're so witty!"

Tom's father returned with a suit for Axel, who accepted it with trepidation. "I've fooled plenty of muggles in that," Tom's father assured the wizard. "I'm sure it will work for you."

"Thanks," said Axel.

"Here's a dress of mine you could wear tonight," said Hermione, so Tessie had something else to squeal over. She exchanged the baby for the dress, which first required untangling her hair from Tommy's slobbery fist.

Tom's mother had purchased a dance dress for Hermione just in case, but Tom had not yet seen her wear it. It required much magical adjustment to fit Tessie's figure, which had a lower, more stable center of gravity. Dobby got to work magically altering it. Tom's mother provided guidance to Dobby about the effect he should aim for, which was good, as Hermione was useless at that. When Tessie emerged from behind the privacy screen in her costume, she looked like a beautiful and even fashionable muggle, except for her hair, which unfortunately followed the new Australian duelist fad currently sweeping wizarding Britain.

Tessie was delighted with the fringe and crystals ornamenting her dress, but Axel was aghast at its shortness. At Axel's insistence, Dobby lengthened the skirt to cover the tops of Tessie's shapely, ivory-stocking-clad calves. Tessie's bright coral lips pouted at her brother's lack of fashion sense, but she acquiesced to his demand.

"Thank you, this is beautiful," said Tessie to Hermione. "But don't you want to wear it yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not going," said Hermione, who seemed much more interested in the baby in her arms than in their guests. She looked up from counting Tommy's tiny fingers as if Tessie had interrupted something interesting. "I'll stay here and read tonight instead."

"Really? But this adventure sounds so fun!" said Tessie.

"You've got sense," muttered Axel to Hermione. "Unlike some girls." He seemed less than thrilled with the suit Tom's father had loaned him. He'd looked better in the medieval drapery of his wizard robes than in the more revealing fit of a muggle suit, and he hadn't looked that good in robes.

"Axel!" scolded Tessie. "Don't be such a grump."

"Don't be such a Gryffindor," he retorted. "Strolling into danger on a lark."

"I'm sure it's not all that dangerous," said Tessie. "I mean, Tom's done it many times. He can defend us from any muggles if necessary." She looked up at Tom adoringly. She must have practiced with a mirror.

"Heroics are quite unlikely to be necessary," said Tom. "I'll be sorry to disappoint you, but I don't expect to encounter any great danger on this outing. Muggles don't just randomly attack their fellow muggles, which they will assume we are."

"You see?" Tessie said to her brother. "Tom knows all about it. We have nothing to fear from muggles. They're just like people."

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Axel.

"That's what the drinks are for," said Tom. "They dissolve bad feelings and wash them clean away."

"Can't apparate if I drink," complained Axel. "What if I need to escape in a hurry?"

"You can barely apparate when you're sober," teased Tessie. "Remember when you forgot your elbow?"

Tom winced. He did not need a reminder of splinching accidents.

"At least I can count on none of my mates seeing me in this getup," said Axel, glancing at the full-length mirror before hastily looking away.

Tom decided not to mention that he'd already told Witch Weekly where they could photograph some entertainingly attired purebloods this evening. Axel would probably enjoy the outing more if he wasn't aware that it was being documented.

Dobby put the finishing touches on their clothes and accessories and, with the guidance of Tom's mother, wrangled Tessie's magically exaggerated hair into an approximation of a modern style. However the rest of the evening went, Tom felt that this fitting might be sufficient entertainment to count the event a success, for Tessie seemed to derive great pleasure from having a house elf wait on her. She tried to accept such service as her due, but Axel's awkwardness gave the impression that such luxury was a novelty for their family. Prewetts might be respectable purebloods, but this particular branch was a shoot off the main line, not the heirs to the familial fortune. They seemed to have invested much of their wealth in their daughter's appearance. Tom respected that investment plan. The payoff was potentially large, for a relatively small initial outlay.

"You can still change your mind," said Tom to Hermione. Then, as they had arranged, he offered her his arm. "Let me side-along apparate you there, so at least you know where it is. Feel free to join us later, if you tire of reading."

Hermione, with a last kiss of Tommy's cheek, handed Tommy (who was apparently a dear little diricawl chick today) to Tom's mother, then took Tom's arm.

"Dobby, disillusion yourself and apparate the Prewetts to the alley by the Café de Paris," said Tom. Earlier, Hermione had apparated Tom and a disillusioned Dobby to an alley in London's West End, and Tom had taken Hermione and Dobby to the club in a taxi so they could scout out a discreet apparition point near it.

They all arrived in the alley. Axel didn't seem to find side-along apparition any more comfortable than Tom did, although perhaps his disgusted expression had more to do with his surroundings than the means he'd taken to get there. Tessie seemed steady on her feet and looked around with interest.

"This isn't our final destination, don't worry," said Tom, leading them out of the alley. "The Café de Paris is this way. We're meeting a muggle friend of mine tonight. He goes by Algie. He's a particularly good first muggle for you two to meet, as he's so unobservant, he might not even notice if you flew a broom around the ballroom. Although I do advise against that. He said he'd bring a couple of friends with him, and they may be more observant. They could hardly be less."

"Algae?" asked Axel. "Like, pond scum?"

"Short for Algernon Clamdowne-Clamdowne, son of the Earl of Lichford. Everyone likes Algie, most immediately upon meeting him, the rest as soon as they learn how wealthy he'll be upon the death of his father."

"Did you say his father is an earl?" asked Tessie, eyes wide. "Real nobility, like in storybooks?"

"Not exactly like in storybooks," said Tom. "Axel may have been closer to the mark with his pond scum idea. But yes, Algie is the real deal, the heir of a noble muggle family, for what that's worth. He knows I'm a recent widower, and is determined to cheer me up, just as you are. It seemed efficient to gather my well-wishers together." Tom turned to Hermione. "Sure I can't tempt you to join us? You need cheering up at least as much as I do."

"I have reading to do," she said. "And I've seen all I need to see to apparate here, if I ever want to. I'll see you at breakfast at the Riddle House. Come on Dobby." She and a vague shimmer in the air headed back to the alley.

"Well, she's full of sunshine, isn't she?" scoffed Tessie quietly once Hermione was gone.

"She's a recent orphan," said Tom. "We can't fault her for her lack of cheer, but it's true that she's not the most pleasant houseguest."

"The society column in the Prophet suggested that you and she—" started Tessie, before Tom interrupted her with a laugh.

"Don't believe everything you read," said Tom.

Once the doorman had deemed them sufficiently well-dressed to enter, Tom led his companions towards the sounds of throbbing drums and howling horns, to the basement ballroom, which was sumptuously decorated, glittering with electric lights. Tom gave the Prewetts a moment to absorb the scene. Tessie's eyes glittered as brightly as the lights as she looked around excitedly at everything. Axel seemed to be trying to retreat into the collar of his borrowed clothes.

Algie waved at them from his table. He was accompanied by a couple of pretty young things who were snacking on some appetizers.

Tom led his companions to Algie and introduced them. "Good evening, Algie. These are the friends I was telling you about, Tessie and Axel Prewett. This is my friend Algernon Clamdowne-Clamdowne, Algie for short."

"I'm very pleased to meet you," said Algie with his usual friendly enthusiasm. "And these are some friends of mine, Lulu Legrande and Nancy Baker. We had to have an even match between us blokes and the fairer sex for this outing, of course."

"I'm glad you were able to entice such charming companions to join us," said Tom to Algie. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Legrande, Miss Baker."

The girls giggled. "Call me Lulu."

"Call me Nancy."

"All right. Then please call me Tom."

Lulu turned to Algie. "Is this one of those stuffy aristocrats you were complaining about?"

"No, Tom's all right. He just tries too hard since he's from the middle of nowhere. You should have heard his Yorkshire accent when I first met him. Maybe if we get him drunk enough we'll hear it again. That'll be a treat. Now he sounds stuffier than my elocution teacher."

Tom put on a smile. "I was being polite out of consideration for my friends, who are unaccustomed to the West End's informality."

"Oh, don't stand on ceremony for our sakes," said Tessie. "Please call me Tessie."

Now it was Axel's turn. He quaked under the stares of these wild muggles. "Um. Please call me Mr. Prewett." Everyone but he laughed.

"OK, now Tom seems like the cat's pajamas in comparison," laughed Lulu.

Tessie laughed a little too loudly at that, making up for Axel, who didn't laugh at all. Once she caught her breath, she squealed "I love your clothes!" at Lulu and Nancy. "The sparkle, the fringe, the hem so daring, everything! Where do you shop?" The three girls were soon engrossed in discussion.

Algie turned to Tom. "Now Tom, I'm the butter-and-egg man tonight. What poison would you like to drown your sorrows in? I dare say you need a snootful as badly as ever a man did."

"I find myself in the mood for champagne."

"Really? Don't the circumstances call for something stronger? Gin perhaps?

"I wish to celebrate the arrival of my son, despite the unfortunate circumstances of his birth."

"Righto." Algie flagged down a waiter and ordered Bollinger (extra sec) for the table. "Or would you prefer something else?" Algie asked Axel. "Mr. Prewett or whatever you call yourself? Hello? Operator? Is this a bad connection?"

"Um." The revealing dresses of Algie's friends seemed to have made just as strong an impression on Axel as on Tessie, but of a different kind. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Would you like anything other than champagne to drink?" Algie explained patiently. "I'm buying."

"Oh. Um. Whatever is fine."

"Righto." Algie sent the waiter away with instructions to keep the champagne and snacks coming until told otherwise, or until everyone at the table had passed out, whichever came first. The waiter promptly delivered the champagne in a bucket of ice.

Once everyone was supplied, Algie raised his champagne flute. "A toast! To Tom, and his son, and the future! May it be brighter than the past." All clinked glasses and drank.

Algie turned his satisfied smile to Tom. "So, here we are. You're fully supplied with wine, women, and song, so you can't help but cheer up, what?" He gestured expansively at the female half of the party. "Take your pick of dance partners. I'm sure any of these girls would be happy to help you forget your troubles."

Tom took another sip of his champagne. "Not yet. I'm still getting my bearings. Feel free to dance with them yourself."

Algie shrugged and turned to Tessie. "With gams like those, you must be quite the hoofer."

"Excuse me?" she replied. Her wide eyes shot a nervous glance at Tom.

"You know," continued Algie blithely. "You must cut a rug. Waltz? Tango? Foxtrot?"

Tessie blinked her big brown eyes at Algie.

Tom rescued the poor girl. "He's saying that a young lady with such a graceful form as yours must be an excellent dancer."

"Oh!" She blushed pink, clashing with her orange hair. "I'm sorry, I don't know these dances."

"Really?" said Algie. "Your family must not let you out much."

"That's right, they don't," she said, with a glare at her brother, who withstood it stoically.

"I find it useful to have a vine growing around one's bedroom window that one can climb down," suggested Algie. "If they cut that down, a knotted sheet will do in a pinch. But really, the thing to do is get your own flat if you can swing it. My family is much happier when they have no idea what I'm up to. At least you're here now. Come on, I'll teach you." He took her hand and assisted her up. "Feel that music."

"I'm listening to it. It's wonderful."

"Don't just listen to it, feel it. Feel the beat. Like this." Algie took both her hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Found it? Not all that syncopated stuff on top, the beat is down here."

Tessie, after a few false starts, was bouncing along as if she and Algie were riding one bicycle over railroad ties.

"You've got it! Now keep that going while you do this." He led her into a turn, eliciting an excited squeal. Axel looked on suspiciously.

Soon they were part of the vibrating mass of humanity on the dance floor. Algie danced with a lightness not weighed down by any superfluity of brain. He danced like no one was watching, giving himself up completely to the music.

Tom had, in the past, tried to emulate Algie's style. Tom knew the dance steps, and could perform them perfectly adequately, but when it came to copying that impression of joyous spontaneity, he came close, but ultimately failed. He'd come to the conclusion that the only way to dance like no one was watching was to genuinely not care that everyone was watching, which seemed an impossible task, since if dance wasn't a performance to impress onlookers, what was it for?

Tom mulled over this conundrum as he watched Algie lead a giggling Tessie thorough a foxtrot.

Lulu set down her empty champagne flute. "Aren't either of you going to ask me to dance? Algie said he needed a couple of girls to entertain a couple of blokes from out of town, but you two are just sitting there like bumps on a log."

Tom and Axel looked at each other. "I don't know these dances," said Axel quickly.

"That's all right, I'll teach you," said Lulu. She held a hand out to Axel, who didn't take it. "Come on, don't be shy. The worst that can happen is you fall down and everyone steps on you."

Axel's brown eyes widened in horror. Lulu laughed.

"She's joking," explained Tom, although Axel didn't look very relieved.

"All right, stay glued to your chair if you want," said Lulu. She next addressed Tom. "You know how to ask a girl to dance, right?"

That would leave Axel alone at the table, foiling Tom's plan to befriend the wizard. "I'm sorry, but I think I need some more champagne first."

Lulu, hands on her hips, glared at them. "Algie's friends are usually livelier than this. Come on Nancy. We don't need them to have fun. We'll dance with each other." The two girls went off and did so, both with exceptional flair.

Tom looked at Axel, whose eyes practically popped out of his head as Lulu deeply dipped a laughing Nancy. He turned away to look at Tom. "These muggle girls," he complained. "They ought to cover themselves up better. Their robes are so short, when they dance, sometimes you can see—" he leaned in close so he didn't have to say the word louder than a whisper "—their knees!"

"Dresses," said Tom. "Not robes, dresses. Muggles have different words for their clothes. Short dresses are the fashion now."

"Whatever they call them, they're indecent." He looked away from the dancers and suspiciously dissected a canapé from one of the platters on the table. "Muggle girls seducing purebloods, trying to drag us down into the mud with them. Diluting our pure stock. My father warned me. Wizards will die out if we don't resist."

Tom was reminded of Mr. McKinnon's talk on breeding dahus. "She only asked you to dance."

"That's how it starts," Axel said ominously. He tried without success to reassemble the canapé.

"I suppose a wizard who's unsuccessful with females of his own kind might be unusually susceptible to the attractions of muggle women," said Tom.

"What?"

"Never mind." Tom generally preferred to keep his thoughts to himself, and resolved that this was his last glass of champagne for the evening. He flagged down a waiter and ordered mineral water for the table. "Anyway, these muggle dresses really make one appreciate the modesty of a well-dressed witch," he said agreeably to Axel once the waiter had gone.

"Speaking of which…" said Axel, peering through the crowd.

"Over there," said Tom helpfully. "She and Algie seem to be having a fine time."

"But you will dance with her yourself, right?"

"Of course. But Algie is a better dancer than I, so I thought I'd have him break her in for me first."

"What?!"

"Teach her to dance, you know."

"Hmpf." The pause after this grew long. Just as Tom took a breath to speak, Axel asked, "Think the Chudley Cannons have a chance against Puddlemere United?"

Tom had studied the sport section of the Daily Prophet well enough to hold his own in this type of conversation, although it was one of the duller aspects of the wizarding world.

Algie next led Tessie through a bunny hug under the disapproving glare of her brother. Tom sipped his water and wondered if the champagne Axel was drinking would make his personality better or worse.

Algie eventually led Tessie back to the table. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink, and her eyes were sparkling. "This is amazing!" she exclaimed once she'd refreshed herself with some champagne. "I love dancing!"

"You're a natural," said Algie. Once he had refreshed himself with some champagne, he said, "Excuse me, I must go iron my shoelaces," and headed for the WC.

The band struck up another tune and Tessie practically jumped from her seat. "Ooh! This music is so exciting!"

Tom offered her his hand. "Are you ready for another dance, or do you need to rest?"

This time she did jump from her seat as she took his hand. "I could dance all night!"

Algie's assessment of Tessie's dance ability had been accurate. She seemed almost to fly, as nimble as the notes of music in the air. She was an excellent follower, responding instantly to whatever move Tom led, from sudden spins that showed off the fringe of her dress, to a close hold that let them glide through the press of the crowd.

It wasn't Tessie's fault that her perfume smelled like failure and rejection. The fragrance of hyacinths was generally regarded as pleasant. They even grew in colors other than deep purple. Pink. Lilac. No, everything Tom could imagine clashed with Tessie's orange hair.

"What's wrong?" asked Tessie. "I'm sorry, I don't really know these dances. They're so different."

"No, your dancing is fine," said Tom. "More than fine, really, you're learning remarkably fast. The fault is entirely mine. I was just reminded of someone with whom I will never dance again."

"Oh!" Tessie's eyes brightened with unspilled tears. Tom was impressed with her control of her tear ducts. Her left hand on his shoulder, and her right in his hand, pulled him closer. "Oh Tom, you don't have to do this if it's too soon. Whatever you need, a shoulder to cry on, anything, I'm here for you."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I thought that perhaps a diversion with friends..."

Tessie hugged him, and he found himself at a loss for words. She was undeniably an attractive girl, for those who liked that type. Being a widower had its advantages. "It's all right to be sad," she assured him. "People can't just bounce back from a loss like that. I don't expect you to dance like you used to."

"I hate to cut this dance short, when you were so clearly enjoying it."

"Oh don't be silly. Taking me here in the first place was wonderfully kind of you. You have no obligation to entertain me even more, especially considering you have your own troubles to deal with." Tessie, with every indication of regret, released Tom from the embrace with which she'd been comforting him. She did not, however, release his hand, instead using it to pull him back to their table.

It took all of Tom's self-control to maintain the expression of a mourning widower when faced with the sight of Algie trying to teach Axel to dance.

"You need to give weight on the rock step, your arm's all floppy— Oh hello. Back so soon?" said Algie.

"Oh Algie," said Tessie, "I know we both had the same thought to cheer Tom up with a night of dancing, but perhaps we're wrong. It seems cruel to expect him to put on a happy face here, of all places, when it just brings up memories of his wife."

Algie looked from Tessie to Tom and back in confusion. "But he never—"

"At any rate, I don't wish to ruin your evening," said Tom to Tessie hurriedly. "I know you were enjoying dancing, so please, don't let me stop you."

"Oh, no, I mean, I was enjoying dancing, but I'm not here just for that. I'm here for you! I mean, to be a friend to you, however I can help. Do you want to talk about her? I'll listen."

"I don't wish to burden my friends by getting all maudlin," said Tom. "Ruining your evening would make me feel even worse. Please, get back on the dance floor. Perhaps you can give your brother a lesson." He looked at Axel. "Unless you'd prefer to dance with Lulu. She seemed very interested."

Axel gulped, and looked to his sister. "Come on. Show me how this dancing thing works."

Tessie, with a worried look back at Tom, led her brother to the dance floor.

"What an appleknocker," remarked Algie once the Prewetts were out of earshot. "His sister's a bit of all right, though." He looked to Tom. "Is she right? Was it a stupid idea to try to cheer you up?"

Tom, watching Axel try to dance, could restrain his laughter no longer. "Look at that oaf," he managed to choke out. "It's clear who got all the dancing skill in that family. I'm feeling better already."

Algie appreciated a slapstick performance as much as anyone, but his laughter was tempered with concern. "This is fun and all, but have some sympathy for the poor girl he's dancing with." He stood. "I'm going to cut in."

"Mr. Prewett might not take that well," said Tom. "That might not be wise."

"Well," said Algie with a defiant swig of his champagne and emphatic click of his glass on the table. "I've never been accused of being wise." He charged off. Axel, unaware of what was going to hit him, continued to blunder through a dance, not merely stepping on his sister's feet, but even kicking her in the shin.

Tom wondered if this table would make an effective shield for any stray spells, if he flipped it onto its edge and hid behind it. That would spill the champagne, besides blocking his view of the show. It shouldn't be necessary as long as Tom believed he could fly. He kept that phrase in mind in case he needed it in a hurry.

The confrontation was less interesting than Tom had hoped. Axel seemed relieved to have an excuse to leave the dance floor, and Tessie was obviously grateful to her savior.

Axel slouched back to the table and dropped heavily onto a chair. "Well, I tried," he said. "How late do you usually stay at these things, anyway?"

"Until midnight, perhaps," said Tom.

"Oh Merlin." Axel flopped his head down on the table, but soon lifted it back up with a groan. "Can't fall asleep, gotta keep an eye on my stupid sister. Not stupid, sorry. I mean beautiful, charming sister. Very refined. Definitely good wife material."

"I can see that," said Tom agreeably, admiring Tessie and Algie, moving together on the dance floor as if they were one playful, four-legged beast.

The band eventually took a break, and Algie led Tessie back to the table. Tom looked around for Lulu and Nancy and found them engrossed in conversation with other revellers at a different table. Tom couldn't blame them. He and Axel had not proven to be agreeable companions.

Axel poured some more champagne for Tessie, then himself.

"Thank you," said Tessie, eyes sparkling as much as her dress.

"Thank you for the dance," said Algie. "And thank you, Mr. Prewett, for letting me cut in."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Tessie, looking down at a run in her stocking, then angrily at her brother. "Axel, look what you did to this stocking! It must have been like this for that whole dance and I didn't even notice. That's so embarrassing."

Axel shrugged. "It wasn't my idea to dance with you anyway, or for you to bare your legs to the world. Wear a longer skirt next time and you won't have this problem."

Tessie reached her hand up her skirt, drew her wand from what must have been a thigh holster, and pointed it at her stocking. "Reparo." The stocking knit itself back together. Then she suddenly shot a guilty glance at Tom and said "Oh."

It would be inaccurate to say that Algie looked at Tessie keenly. He was not capable of looking keenly at anything. But his normally calm face was perturbed by an unfamiliar expression indicating thought. As Tessie returned her wand to its holster, the impossibility of her action did not seem to concern him. "Funny," he said. "I thought earlier there was a run in your stocking. Must have been a trick of the light. There is absolutely nothing wrong with your legs at all."

Tessie's giggle sounded nervous. Her gaze flicked to her brother.

"Obliviate." Axel put his wand away as Algie slumped out of his chair towards the floor.

Tom rushed to catch Algie before he hit, and wrangled him back into his chair. "You can't claim you're all that concerned about the Statute if you just obliviated a muggle in public," he hissed furiously.

"No one saw me obliviate him," growled Axel.

"He didn't even notice me fixing my stocking!" objected Tessie. "That was totally unnecessary!"

"This whole outing is totally unnecessary. You can't impress your rich halfblood widower by letting a filthy muggle paw at you all night. We're going home." Axel grasped his sister's arm, then turned to Tom. "Where's a good apparition point around here?"

"That hallway leads to the facilities, but take care no muggles see you," for Tom wasn't about to duel a wizard over a witch's honor. As satisfying as it would be to punch Axel in the face, he'd have to say "I believe I can fly" immediately to escape before Axel retaliated, and who knew what trouble he'd get into with the Ministry for portkeying out of a crowd of muggles?

The Prewetts caused an embarrassing scene as Axel dragged his sister away. Tessie glared at her brother so angrily, the suit Tom's father had loaned him started to smolder. Well, it had been a bit out-of-fashion anyway.

The ballroom was so loud, Tom had to listen closely to hear the crack of apparition.

Tom looked at Algie, slumped awkwardly in his chair. He was drooling slightly. Tom blotted at Algie's chin with a serviette. Tom's reading on obliviation had informed him that the subject could regain consciousness immediately, or later, depending on the skill of the practitioner and the severity of the erasure. So far, it appeared that Axel had not been skilled or the erasure had been large, or both.

When Lulu and Nancy returned to the table for some refreshments, they expressed concern over the unconscious Algie.

"I'm afraid Algie overindulged," said Tom.

"But all we had was champagne," said Nancy, confused. "That's like milk to Algie."

"Perhaps he started early," said Tom.

The girls nodded, recognizing that as the sort of thing Algie would do.

Nancy looked at the crowd on the dance floor. "Where's Tessie?"

Tom explained. "Axel seemed perturbed at how Algie was dancing with Tessie. He's unfamiliar with these modern dances, and seemed to think that Algie was being overly forward. Axel took his sister home over her protests."

"But Algie's a perfect gentleman!" objected Nancy. "And she was having such a good time!"

"That bastard brother of hers!" Lulu exclaimed.

"Lulu!" said Nancy, horrified at her friend's language.

"I know a bastard when I see one," continued Lulu. "That girl's got to get out from under her family's thumb. Move to the city, change her name. Lots of girls do it, I could show her the ropes."

"What…" said Algie, fluttering to consciousness.

"You had too much to drink," Tom explained.

"What…"

"I'll get a cab for you," said Tom.

Algie shook his head. He seemed at a loss for how to stop shaking it, but figured it out eventually. "No need, this early." He looked at his watch. "The night is young, the band is hot, the champagne is cold, why stop now? There are plenty of girls to dance with. Lulu, and Nancy, and…" He looked confused. "Didn't you say you were going to bring friends tonight?"

"We're two blokes and two girls, so we have the right ratio for dancing, what?" said Tom. "We don't need anyone else." He heard himself picking up Algie's speech pattern now that the witch and wizard were gone.

"Right," said Algie. "Right," he repeated uncertainly. He reached to refill his empty champagne glass but Lulu stopped him.

"Have some mineral water," she said, pouring a glass for him.

Algie seemed about to protest, but thought better of it and drank the water without complaint. "Perhaps you're right," he conceded. "I feel a bit out-of-sorts." His head started to bob to the music. "Nothing a bit of dancing won't put right." He looked from one girl to the other. "To whom do I owe the next dance?"

The girls looked at each other. "You take him," said Lulu.

"Thanks," said Nancy, taking Algie's hand.

"If he's going to be sick, better on you than on me."

"Hey!" objected Nancy.

"I'm fine," Algie assured her. "I don't even feel drunk, exactly, just odd." He pulled her onto the dance floor, where they danced with their usual style.

Lulu looked at Tom.

He offered his hand. "Shall we?" They did.

Lulu was a skilled dancer. At this close range, she seemed older than Tom had thought at first. Tom enjoyed the evening. It was pleasant to dance with an experienced girl like Lulu, and a sweet young thing like Nancy, and various other girls who were vaguely familiar from his pre-Merope days, and girls he just met. None approached Cecilia in beauty and ambition, but they did exist.

Eventually the girls all blurred together into a big mass of not-Cecilia. "I think I'll call it a night," he said to Algie. "Thank you for this. You did cheer me up."

"I'm glad I could help," said Algie. "You're welcome to use my flat tonight."

"Thanks, but I'll take a late train instead."

"Really? That seems uncomfortable."

"It's less crowded than the daytime trains," said Tom. "And I like the chance to think."

"Suit yourself," said Algie. "Let's do this again soon."

"Definitely." Tom left, and ducked into the alley near the club. "Dobby," he called.

Pop. "Yes Master?"

"Take me home."

—-

A Floo-call to the office of Witch Weekly ensured that they would publish the flattering, rather than the incriminating, photographs of that muggletouring jaunt. Tom's threat to cease tipping them off with the whereabouts of the photogenic and adventurous heir of Riddle had weight. At Tom's request, the editor owled him the magical photographs of both Prewetts drawing their wands in the midst of a crowd of muggles, so that Tom could destroy the evidence and thus protect the reputations of his friends. Tom chuckled as he filed them in his rolltop desk.

—-

At breakfast Tuesday, February fifteenth, as Tom and Hermione discussed how they would gather data from Ignis's anonymous clients after the full moon on the sixteenth, they were interrupted by the arrival of Malfoy's magnificent white owl. Their system was well-practiced by now. Hermione served the owl a dish of bacon as Tom untied the scroll from its leg.

Tom unscrolled the letter. "Oh no."

"What?" Hermione jumped to read it as well.

Tom angled it so they could both see it. "Look at this," he complained. "I won't be able to use Malfoy's letters as examples of pureblood calligraphy anymore. He wrote this with a fountain pen."

"But what does he have to say?" demanded Tom's father. "You haven't had him kill anyone else for you, have you?"

Tom didn't dignify that with a response. Instead he read the letter aloud:

"Dear Tom,

I hope this letter finds you well. Thank you for this muggle pen. I find it not only a useful instrument, but also a novel conversation piece.

If you have not yet made plans for the Ides of March, I would be delighted if you and Miss Granger would accept the hospitality of Malfoy Manor. Feel free to bring your son. Our families can celebrate the holiday informally together with lunch and an afternoon's entertainment on the grounds. Please reply at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Serpens"

Tom set the letter down.

"Isn't the Ides of March the day Julius Caesar was assassinated?" asked Tom's father.

"Well, yes, in muggle history," said Hermione. "But the holiday is much older. It's the day for settling debts. It's not a major holiday, really, just an excuse to have a picnic. A lot of families don't even do the traditional sheep sacrifice anymore."

"It sounds delightful," said Tom's mother.

"And I have time to research any wizarding customs about it," said Tom. "I'll obviously reply yes." He looked to the white owl. "Would you like some more bacon while I quickly write a reply?"

The owl responded by dipping its beak in Tom's tea.

"Ah," said Tom. "Well, that's yours now. Enjoy." He looked to Hermione. "I assume I'll again convey your regrets?"

Hermione said nothing, although her expression spoke of inner turmoil. Tom waited. "You mean to go alone?" she eventually said.

"Well, it would be tacky to bring Dobby, considering his history, and the invitation didn't include my parents, so—"

"Tom," Hermione interrupted, but she didn't say anything else.

"Yes?" Tom prompted eventually.

"You've been so helpful scaling up the wolfsbane potion, and so kind to Ignis despite his condition, and of course it's wonderful to see Tommy being raised by a loving father…"

Tom waited for the bad news, although he anticipated what it would be.

"...So I can't let you go to Malfoy Manor alone," she concluded predictably.

"Let?" repeated Tom's father, prompting Tom's mother to lay a soothing hand on her husband's. Tom's father looked at her and was silent.

Tom smiled at Hermione. "It's true that entering a murderer's lair is a job for a Gryffindor. Do you know of any I could bring with me for protection? And please don't say Ignis. Although I daresay he could distract Serpens from any evil scheme by staging a dramatic splinching right in front of him. I could make my escape while Serpens is being sick."

Hermione let out an explosive laugh, powered by a sudden snap of the tension that always filled her. "All right," she said. "We'll go together. Someone has to look after you." She looked at Tommy, who was currently in the arms of Tom's mother. "We won't go for long," she said. "And of course I'll leave Tommy with you, Mrs. Riddle."

"I'll be happy to watch my fluffy little puffskein," said Tom's mother.

"I'll write back to Serpens," said Tom. "You'll have your reply soon," he said to the owl, which was busy with its bacon and tea. "Excuse me." Tom went to his office. After some thought, he set to work with his Mabie Todd Swan, flexing the gold nib in proper muggle style:

Dear Serpens,

Thank you for the invitation. Miss Granger and I look forward to joining you for the Ides of March.

Tom

Tom brought the letter to the dining room, from whence the owl carried it away. "Thank you," Tom said to Hermione.

"I hope this isn't a mistake," she said.

"What happened the last time you were there?" Tom asked.

Hermione looked pale. Even her hair seemed frozen.

"Never mind," said Tom. "That will never happen in this timeline, since you'll prevent such things. This is your chance to form better memories of Malfoy Manor."

Hermione shivered, although the room was warm.

"I'm sure Serpens will be a perfect gentleman," said Tom. "And besides, the two of us already beat him in a fight. We could easily repeat our performance in a rematch."

He'd finally said the right thing. Hermione smiled at him. "Thanks. I know, we'll probably be fine."

After breakfast, Tom worked in his office. He wanted a rough estimate of the werewolf population in various countries, but wizards seemed to have an aversion to statistics.

Pop. "Master, Squire Riddle says some loud-mouthed bint wants to talk to you on the telephone," said Dobby.

"Thank you, Dobby." Tom picked up the telephone receiver and put it to his ear as Dobby popped away. "Hello?" He heard the click as his father hung up.

"Tom?!" much too loudly. Tom held the receiver further from his ear.

He spoke into the transmitter. "Who is this? And you don't have to shout."

"Sorry! I mean, sorry. It's me, Tessie."

It took a moment for the name to ring a bell. When it did, it rang loudly. "Tessie?! Sorry, I wasn't expecting to hear your voice over the telephone. Why didn't you Floo-call me?" He was in no great rush to get the muggle costumes back, and he'd expected to arrange that by Floo.

"I didn't want my family to overhear. They don't know I'm here. I went to a muggle pub and asked to use their telephone, all on my own, can you imagine? These muggles are giving me strange looks, and I sure hope I'm not doing anything to violate the Statute, but I had to talk to you."

"But what do you have to say to me that your family shouldn't overhear?" He'd been under the impression that her family fully approved of her throwing herself at the heir of Riddle.

"It's about Algie," she said. "How can I see him again?"