Before the War, There was Love

by TheBlueMoonRose

Full Summary in first chapter. Warning this Story will containt Timeline and Era change into modern times of 2024.

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Neon Lights

The sounds of the fair pulsed around them—music blaring from speakers, the rhythmic churning of rides, and laughter mingling with the scent of fried dough and sugar-glazed peanuts. But for Harry and Draco, the world had gone a bit still.

They had just stepped off Pharaoh's Fury, Draco looking slightly windblown, cheeks flushed from a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. The ride had sent them swinging sky-high, stomachs dropping as the boat-shaped contraption reached angles neither boy was quite ready for. Draco, despite his highborn pride, had let out a yell that had Harry laughing the entire time.

Now, standing in front of another monstrous contraption—Street Fighter, a chaotic ride that spun and swayed like a mechanical monster—Draco's silver eyes widened as he watched it swing upside-down, people's screams echoing beneath the sunny sky.

"Oh... Merlin," Draco muttered, taking an instinctive step back as the ride groaned in motion. "People willingly get on that?"

Harry snorted, elbowing him lightly. "You just survived Pharaoh's Fury. You'll live."

Draco gave him a look, halfway between insulted and impressed with himself, when a voice—familiar and warm—cut through the fairground noise.

"Harry?"

He turned, eyebrows lifting. "Hermione!?"

She stood just a few feet away, the sunlight casting soft golden tones in her short, wavy brown hair. She wore a delicate embroidered camisole tucked into high-waisted light denim shorts, a long beige cardigan draped over her shoulders. Brown wedge sandals completed the look, along with a crossbody satchel slung across her chest. Her sunglasses sat perched atop her head, and her wide, curious eyes lit up at the sight of him.

Harry's grin widened as he quickly closed the distance between them. They shared a brief but tight hug, the kind that silently said I've missed you.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, still beaming.

Hermione pulled back, returning the smile. "I'm here with my parents and my cousins. They're on that ride right now." She nodded toward Street Fighter before her gaze flickered over Harry's shoulder—her expression shifting from cheerful to inquisitive. "Harry... is Draco Malfoy next to you?"

Harry's face instantly turned red as he glanced back at the blonde standing awkwardly beside him.

Draco had turned at the sound of her voice, recognizing her immediately. He stood a little straighter, his usual cool demeanor fighting with an awkward tension in his shoulders.

"Uhm... yeah," Harry answered, scratching the back of his neck.

Hermione folded her arms gently, a skeptical but not unkind smile on her lips. "Alright. Explain?"

The question hung between them like a charm ready to burst.

Draco cleared his throat, attempting some semblance of composure. "Long story," he muttered, eyes flicking to Harry and then back to Hermione. "But I'm not here to hex anyone."

Hermione arched a brow. "Well, that's a good start."

Harry exhaled slowly, trying to collect his thoughts as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... uh, he's staying with Sirius this summer."

Hermione blinked. "He is?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. His mother asked Sirius to take him in for the summer because... well..."

"Because my aunt is losing her goddamn mind," Draco interrupted, his voice laced with a mix of irritation and weariness. He crossed his arms, expression tight. "The—uhm—Dark Lord is off on some mysterious mission, that's what my father says, and Aunt Bella... she's snapped. Worse than usual."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted slightly, but she stayed quiet as Draco continued.

"She's been lashing out at everyone. Just completely unhinged. I was walking past her on my way to the drawing room, and she just smacked me across the face! No warning. No reason. Just... whack!" He gestured toward his cheek, scowling. "That's when they decided it would be safer for me to stay with my cousin Sirius."

Hermione's gaze softened, a flicker of concern briefly crossing her features. "That's... actually very sensible of them."

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. "Yeah. And—uh—you remember when I told you I ran into him near Knockturn Alley? And how you, me, and Ron saw him at the Leaky Cauldron weeks ago?"

Hermione slowly nodded, her curiosity sharpening. "I remember. He looked... different."

"Well," Harry said, voice lowering. "He's here, Hermione. Here—at the fair. With this gorgeous redhead."

Hermione's eyes widened, and before she could respond, Draco cut in.

"She's... stunning," he said, still looking like he wasn't sure if what he'd seen had been real. "No magical aura that I could sense. I think she's a Muggle. He called her Jess." He shook his head slightly, the disbelief still evident on his face. "You should've seen it. They looked like... like a couple. Laughing. Holding hands. He even ate cotton candy out of her fingers."

Hermione's mouth parted in stunned silence.

Draco turned back to Harry, confused. "Wait—you said you saw him before. I'm still trying to figure out how he looks like that. The last time I saw the Dark Lord, he didn't even look human. That... that man we saw today—he looked younger. Human. Normal, even, if you ignore the red eyes."

Harry grimaced. "I don't know. That's the thing. I didn't feel that same kind of... dread. Not the kind we felt at the Department of Mysteries. But it was him. No doubt about it."

Hermione frowned, her arms folding slowly. "Something's changed. This... this isn't the same dark wizard we've fought before."

"And he called us the ones on a date," Draco muttered under his breath, still pink in the cheeks.

Harry coughed awkwardly. "Yeah... that happened too."

Hermione looked between the two of them, her expression unreadable. "Okay," she finally said, adjusting the strap on her bag, "We definitely need to figure out what's going on here."

Just as the tension between the three teens began to settle into thoughtful silence, a pair of voices—warm, familiar, and unmistakably adult—rose over the hum of the crowd.

"Hermione?" a man called gently, and she turned to see her parents weaving through the throng of fairgoers.

Her face lit up instantly. "Mum! Dad!" she said, waving to them as they approached.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger reached her side, both dressed casually for the warm day—her father in a crisp white polo shirt and khaki trousers, and her mother in a floral sundress with a sunhat resting atop her curled hair. They both looked pleasantly surprised as their eyes fell on the two boys standing beside her.

"Well, look who it is!" Mr. Granger smiled brightly. "Harry! It's been a while."

Harry straightened up, offering a shy grin as he reached out to shake Mr. Granger's hand. "Hi, sir. Good to see you again."

Mrs. Granger leaned forward to give Harry a brief, motherly hug. "You've grown, dear. And you look well."

Harry chuckled, his ears tinged pink. "Thanks. Summer's been...eventful."

Hermione turned slightly, gesturing toward the pale-blond boy at her side. "Mum, Dad—this is Draco Malfoy."

At the mention of his name, both Grangers tensed, if only slightly, as they exchanged the briefest glance. Hermione noticed it, and so did Draco. To his credit, however, Draco didn't shrink back or fumble for an excuse. Instead, he stepped forward with surprising poise.

"It's... an honor to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Draco said carefully, his voice low and steady. "I just wanted to say that—I'm sorry. For what I said back in second year. For everything, really. I didn't understand then how hateful and ignorant my words were. I know it doesn't undo anything, but I am truly sorry. Especially to your daughter."

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Mr. Granger studied Draco for a long moment, his brows furrowed slightly in thought. Beside him, his wife watched with a softer gaze, assessing the sincerity in the boy's pale, sharp features.

Hermione stood still, holding her breath slightly.

Then, Mrs. Granger offered a small smile and reached out her hand. "Thank you for saying that, Draco. That takes courage. And... we appreciate it."

Draco took her hand, nodding once. "Thank you, ma'am."

Mr. Granger gave a single approving nod. "It's never too late to grow, son."

Draco blinked, clearly surprised by the kindness in the man's voice. He nodded again, this time more firmly. "I'm trying."

Hermione beamed, visibly touched by the sincerity of Draco's apology and the kindness of her parents' response. It felt like something monumental had just shifted—quietly, without fanfare, but deeply nonetheless. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked at her mum with a hopeful smile.

"Mom," she asked, her voice light but earnest, "is it alright if I hang out with Harry and Draco for a bit? If it's okay with them, of course."

Harry turned to her with a smile already forming, glancing at Draco with an unspoken question. Draco blinked, still processing everything, but nodded quickly.

"Sure," Harry said, his grin widening. "We still need to get Draco on this ride anyway."

He pointed toward the giant pendulum ride behind them—Street Fighter, its neon lights flashing and metal arms groaning as it swung high into the air. The shrieks of thrilled riders echoed in the background as the carriage slowed to a stop, letting off its latest group of passengers.

Hermione's younger cousins tumbled off the ride, their cheeks flushed from excitement. One of them—a spirited girl about twelve with wild curls and a sparkly tote bag—spotted Hermione immediately and dashed toward her.

"That was so fun!" the girl gasped, breathless. "You have to go next, Cuz—oh!" Her wide eyes landed on Harry and Draco, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind Hermione. "Who are they?"

Hermione gave a short laugh, placing a hand on her cousin's shoulder. "These are my friends from Hogwarts. Harry, and... Draco."

Harry gave a polite nod and a small wave. Draco, for his part, offered a tentative smile. He felt something warm stir in his chest at Hermione's words—her friend. It wasn't something he was used to hearing outside of Blaise or Pansy, but from Hermione... it felt heavier, more meaningful.

Her cousin's eyes went wide, then narrowed with a dramatic gasp. "Are you ditching us, Cuz?!"

Hermione laughed aloud, clearly used to the dramatics. "Oh, stop. I'll meet up with you guys later. Go grab ice cream or something—I've got to make sure Draco doesn't pass out on the next ride."

Draco blinked again, this time in alarm. "Pass out?"

Harry elbowed him gently with a grin. "You'll be fine. Probably."

As Hermione's cousins wandered off, chattering excitedly and tossing her playful glances over their shoulders, the trio turned back toward the ride queue. The sun was still high, casting golden rays across the fairgrounds, and for the first time in a long time, Draco felt... included.

The ride roared to life again with a mechanical hiss and a low groan as it reset into position, the vibrant lights pulsing rhythmically along its towering frame. People ahead of them in line filed toward the loading platform, giggling and cheering as they were ushered into their seats by the ride attendants.

Draco stared up at the pendulum-like structure with a tight-lipped expression, his silver eyes wide as he watched it sway higher and higher before slowing to a stop. The metal arms creaked, and the safety bars rose.

Hermione leaned in toward him, her curls bouncing slightly as she spoke, "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, you know."

Draco scoffed lightly, though there was a twitch at the corner of his eye. "What, and let Harry think I'm scared? Please."

Harry smirked from the other side of him. "You literally are scared."

"I am not!" Draco insisted, puffing his chest slightly—though it deflated almost instantly when the group ahead let out a delighted scream as the ride whooshed down from its peak.

"You sure?" Hermione teased, nudging his shoulder as they began stepping forward toward the seats. "We could always go find the Ferris wheel instead."

Draco gritted his teeth as they reached the loading area. "No. I'm fine. I've faced Death Eaters. I can handle one ridiculous Muggle contraption."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Right. The Death Eaters never launched you fifty feet into the air and swung you around at seventy miles an hour."

"Helpful, Harry. Really helpful," Draco muttered.

The trio were guided to a row near the back, Hermione on one side, Draco in the middle, and Harry on the other. As they sat down and the attendant lowered the heavy safety bar over them, Draco gripped the sides with white-knuckled hands.

"You can hold my hand if you want," Hermione offered sweetly, shooting him a playful glance.

Draco turned to her, affronted. "I most certainly will not!"

The moment the ride began its slow ascent, Draco's bravado crumbled further. The metal groaned beneath them, and the wind picked up slightly, brushing across their faces as they rose higher into the sky. From their angle, the fairground was laid out below them like a glowing map—rides spinning, lights flashing, music blaring in a chaotic harmony.

Hermione leaned back against her seat, completely at ease. Harry was grinning as the ride hit its first drop, but Draco let out a startled yell as his stomach lurched violently.

"Oh Merlin—what fresh hell is this?!" he shouted, clamping his eyes shut.

Harry nearly doubled over laughing as the ride swung them forward again. "You doing alright, Draco?!"

"Shut up, Harry!"

Hermione, laughing, reached across to tap Draco's hand gently. "Deep breaths, Draco! It's only a few minutes!"

"I swear if I survive this, I'm going to hex you both!"

But despite his terror, there was something undeniably exhilarating about it—the wind in his hair, the jolt in his stomach, the way his heart thundered in his chest like it hadn't in years. And when the ride began to slow, swinging lower and lower until it finally coasted to a stop, Draco let out a long, shaky breath and blinked his eyes open.

He was still alive. And... oddly enough, kind of buzzing with energy.

As they stepped off the ride, Hermione turned to him with a smug grin. "Not bad for a pureblood prince."

Draco was too dizzy to come up with a good retort, but he managed a crooked smile. "I'm never letting you pick the ride again."

Harry chuckled. "Oh, but there's still the spinning teacups."

Draco shot him a death glare.

---

The shrill clattering of chains and creaking metal echoed through the fairgrounds as Tom and Jess came to a stop in front of the Zipper. The towering, rotating structure loomed over them, its flashing purple and green lights spinning in chaotic rhythm as the ride's caged cars flipped and twirled high in the sky.

Jess tilted her head back with a wide grin, sunglasses now perched atop her head. Her braid shifted slightly over her shoulder in the warm breeze, and her excitement practically radiated off her skin. "Oh, this one's wild," she said, practically bouncing on her heels. "It was my favorite when I was a teenager."

Tom raised an eyebrow, following the motion of one of the capsules as it spun a full three-sixty in midair before slamming back into its arc. "It looks... structurally unsound," he murmured dryly.

Jess laughed. "That's what makes it fun."

He turned his gaze toward her, watching the sparkle in her eyes. Despite the cacophony around them—screaming riders, booming music from nearby games, the hiss of pressurized hydraulics—she seemed completely at ease, grounded in the chaos. And oddly enough, he found that grounding extended to him too.

"Very well," he said at last, voice smooth but laced with challenge, "if we die on this ride, I hope you know I'll be blaming you from the afterlife."

Jess giggled, grabbing his hand and tugging him gently toward the line. "Deal. And if we survive, I expect you to admit it was awesome."

Tom sighed through his nose, but a faint smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. "We'll see."

As they moved forward, waiting their turn, Tom glanced up once more at the spinning cages. He'd fought in duels, commanded legions, and stared death in the face more times than he could count—but somehow, the prospect of being tossed through the air like a sock in a dryer at the whim of a steel contraption made by Muggles was a different kind of gamble altogether.

Still, he didn't let go of her hand.

And Jess, sensing that subtle tension in his usually unreadable expression, leaned closer and whispered with a playful glint, "You're gonna love it. Or hate it. Either way, it'll be memorable."

Their turn was next.

As the ride attendant opened the cage door, Tom helped Jess inside with a gentlemanly flourish, then climbed in after her. The metal door slammed shut with a heavy clunk, and the lock snapped into place. Jess settled into the worn seat beside him, already laughing as the safety restraints were pulled down.

Tom looked over at her, red eyes faintly narrowed but not with irritation—more like a silent bracing for whatever madness was about to happen.

And then the ride lurched to life with a guttural whine of gears.

The world tilted. Screams erupted around them. Jess shouted with joy as their capsule flipped end-over-end, her laughter infectious.

Tom? He simply held on—tight-lipped, wide-eyed, and absolutely convinced that if he survived this, he deserved a bloody medal.

---

The trio made their way through the bustling fairgrounds, weaving between families, stalls, and colorful food carts. The late afternoon sun had begun to soften, casting a warm golden hue across the carnival rides. Laughter and distant music filled the air as Harry, Hermione, and Draco walked together, moving as a surprisingly comfortable unit.

"The tea cups were better," Draco muttered under his breath, still looking a bit dazed from the last ride. His platinum blond hair was slightly tousled, and he gave his shirt an unnecessary tug as if trying to regain some sense of dignity.

Hermione chuckled beside him, her sandals clicking against the pavement as she offered a teasing smile. "They were gentler, at least."

Harry, grinning, nudged Draco playfully with his shoulder before suddenly grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the next attraction. "Alright, then. How about this one?"

They came to a halt in front of the Zipper.

Draco's eyes widened with horror as he looked up at the violently spinning cages. "What the bloody hell, Harry?" he gaped. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Harry just smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction.

Hermione, walking just a few steps behind them, observed the exchange quietly. There was something in the way Harry looked at Draco—teasing but gentle, open in a way she hadn't seen from him with anyone else in quite some time. She tilted her head, watching them closely as the two boys bantered and bickered like they'd known each other their whole lives.

They're not dating... right? she wondered, a curious edge to her thoughts. If they were, would Harry have told her?

Before she could dwell further, her eyes flicked to the exit platform of the Zipper, just as the latest group of riders stepped down from the violently spinning contraption. Her gaze locked on two particular figures, and she froze mid-step.

"Harry... Draco..." she said, her voice low, urgent.

Both boys turned toward her, sensing the sudden change in her tone. Then they followed her gaze.

Tom Riddle and the redhead.

Jess was laughing, the sound carrying lightly through the air as she leaned into Tom, who offered her a rare, genuine smirk. His arm brushed against hers, fingers grazing her back as if by instinct. They looked relaxed. Normal. Like a couple stepping off a thrill ride, not two people who had just stunned three onlookers into silence.

"That's him," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd.

Harry nodded stiffly. "Yeah. That's him."

Draco swallowed, voice tight. "And that's the girl he's with. Jess."

The three of them stood still, hidden partially behind a cotton candy cart, watching what felt like an impossible scene unfold. The Dark Lord—reborn, reformed, or whatever this version of him was—out in public, unmasked, not casting curses or commanding fear.

Just... living.

With her.

And somehow, that made it even more confusing.

Tom and Jess descended the ramp from the Zipper, her laughter light and breathless as she clung to his arm for balance. Her hair had come a little loose from the braid during the ride, and her cheeks were flushed from the thrill. "That was so fun!" she exclaimed between soft giggles, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Tom's gaze, however, briefly flicked toward the group standing nearby—Harry, Draco, and Hermione. His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, not out of hostility, but in quiet contemplation. They were still watching him, and now with someone else added to the mix. He could sense the shift in energy the moment they noticed him.

But Jess pulled his attention back as she tugged gently on his hand. "How about we head to the tents?" she asked, already gesturing toward the line of colorful vendor stalls at the far end of the fairgrounds.

Tom blinked at her. "The tents?"

"Yeah," she said with a smile, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. "The ones with the handmade things—jewelry, candles, clothes. Stuff people actually put time and heart into." She looked up at him, hopeful. "I like checking them out."

He nodded, slipping back into the easy rhythm of their outing. "Sure. Sounds good. We can take a break from the rides for a bit." A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You did say you prefer riding them at night, didn't you?"

Jess beamed. "You remembered!"

"Of course," Tom said, his voice soft as he led her in the direction of the tents. "You said the neon lights made it feel magical."

Jess gave a little squeal of delight and squeezed his hand. "Exactly."

As they walked away, hand in hand once more, Tom's mind lingered—not on the trio still watching from behind—but on Jess's laugh, the warmth of her hand in his, and the way her eyes lit up just talking about something as simple as artisan tents. A moment of peace, one he wasn't sure he'd ever truly known until now.

The ride next to them whirred and clanked in motion, but the sound had become nothing more than background noise. All three stood frozen, watching as Tom and Jess walked hand in hand across the fairgrounds, laughter and soft conversation passing between them like something from another life. The sight felt surreal—less like watching the infamous Dark Lord and more like glimpsing a stranger in an entirely different reality.

Hermione was the first to speak, her voice barely more than a breath. "Let's follow them?"

Draco's head whipped around so fast it nearly made Hermione jump. His silver-blue eyes widened with incredulity. "Are you out of your mind, Granger?" he hissed. "You want him to hex us into oblivion for stalking him and his—date?"

Hermione flushed. "I just meant... they're headed to the tents. We were going that way anyway, weren't we?"

Harry, who hadn't taken his eyes off Tom and Jess, clenched his fists at his sides. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. "I want to check out the tents," he said simply, but the tension in his voice betrayed his thoughts. "Besides, we're not following them. We're just... walking in the same direction."

Draco groaned, dragging a hand through his pale hair. "Harry... he told us to leave them be earlier. He didn't hex us because she was there. But now you want to walk after them, knowing full well he's watching everything?"

"He's not watching us right now," Harry muttered.

"Yes, well, the man has a snake that talks, Harry. And now he's somehow gotten hotter, mysterious, and is being followed around by some insanely attractive redhead who may or may not be a Muggle. Forgive me for not wanting to draw his attention again."

Hermione crossed her arms and sighed. "We can just... go to the tents. If we bump into them, we'll just act casual. It's not like we're planning to eavesdrop."

Harry glanced between the two of them. "You don't have to come."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm coming. I'm not letting you get cursed while pretending it's a coincidence."

Hermione cracked a smile despite herself. "Let's just stay calm. We're not following them. We're browsing."

"Sure," Draco muttered. "Browsing with a side of paranoia."

And with that, the three of them began walking—quietly, carefully—toward the tents.

As the afternoon sun cast golden rays over the bustling fairgrounds, the scent of buttered popcorn and roasted peanuts lingered in the warm air. Tom and Jess strolled side by side, hands occasionally brushing as they passed vibrant tents and stalls. The soft hum of chatter, mechanical ride clicks, and carnival music surrounded them, but one particular booth caught Jess's attention and made her stop in her tracks.

Her eyes widened, practically shimmering with joy. "Oh my god, it's a La Luna plush... And it's no fake, it's a real one!" she whispered, stepping toward the game booth like she was being pulled by invisible strings. Her hands came together in excitement as she tilted her head to admire the display.

Tom followed her gaze, his own red eyes narrowing in curiosity. Perched among a mountain of other prizes was a deep navy blue plush cat, embroidered with delicate cosmic patterns—tiny silver stars scattered across its cheeks, a crescent moon stitched elegantly on its forehead, and a vibrant pink ankh symbol centered on its chest. Its ears were lined with striped violet fabric, and an emerald-like gem was sewn onto its dark collar.

Jess looked like a child seeing a dream come to life.

"I've always wanted one," she gushed, glancing back at Tom with awe. "They're so hard to find—like, sold out everywhere. And even online, you'd be lucky to catch a restock before they vanish."

Tom arched a brow, smirking ever so slightly. "You really want that thing?"

Jess shot him a look, but the soft glint in her eye betrayed her excitement. "It's not just a plush—it's iconic. Magical. Cute. I've wanted it since I was sixteen."

Tom turned to inspect the setup—standard carnival fare. It was a ring toss game, deceptively simple in appearance, but he saw through the illusion instantly. The spacing between the glass bottles was deliberately uneven. The rings were too light, designed to bounce unpredictably. He scoffed inwardly. Cheap tricks.

"I see..." he murmured. "Well then, let's win it."

Jess blinked. "What?" She laughed, eyes skeptical. "You do know these games are rigged, right? No one actually wins unless they're lucky or spend fifty quid trying."

Tom said nothing. Instead, he stepped up to the booth and laid down a crisp set of notes. The carnie, a wiry man with a weathered ballcap and sunburnt skin, gave him a half-smile, half-sneer.

"Think you've got the arm, pretty boy?" the man taunted, sliding over a set of rings.

Tom didn't reply. He simply rolled one ring in his hand, testing the weight, then flicked his wrist and sent it sailing through the air. With a clean clink, the ring spun around the neck of the central bottle and settled perfectly in place.

The carnie's eyes twitched. Jess's jaw dropped.

"Lucky shot," the man muttered.

Tom smirked coldly. "Let's find out."

He threw another. Then another. And another.

Each ring landed flawlessly. Controlled. Calculated. Effortless.

Jess leaned in close, whispering with half a laugh, "Okay... are you using magic?"

Tom gave her a sidelong glance, lips curling slightly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

With one final flick, the last ring flew—and landed without even a bounce. The carnie stared at him in disbelief, then huffed and reached behind the display.

"Alright, pick your prize," he grumbled.

Jess nearly bounced on her toes. "The La Luna plush!" she squealed.

The plush was handed over to Tom, who turned with a theatrical bow, presenting it to her like a rare treasure. "For you, my lady," he said with a smirk.

Jess clutched the plush to her chest, hugging it tightly, her smile brighter than any neon light in the fair. "Okay... I might forgive you for being annoyingly good at everything."

"Might?" Tom repeated, feigning offense.

She laughed, nudging him gently with her shoulder. "Alright, alright—I do forgive you."

Not far off, tucked behind the shade of a striped lemonade cart, Harry, Hermione, and Draco stood watching the entire exchange unfold like spectators in a very strange, very surreal play.

Hermione's lips parted slightly. "He really won it for her... no magic?" she whispered.

Harry nodded slowly, his voice low. "He didn't use a wand. Just skill. He's been out here... blending in. Like some kind of strange normal person."

Draco scoffed under his breath. "If you call casually tossing rings like a trained duelist 'normal.' Honestly, I don't know what's more terrifying—the fact that he's here... or the fact that he's dating some gorgeous redhead and he isn't the dark lord."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "He's... honestly attractive now. It's unsettling."

Draco mumbled, "Tell me about it."

They continued to watch as Jess excitedly adjusted the plush in her arms, laughing at something Tom murmured to her. There was something oddly intimate about the moment—disarming even. The feared Dark Lord was walking away from a rigged carnival game with the casual air of a man on holiday and the smug smile of someone utterly enchanted by the girl beside him.

Harry sighed. "This summer's getting weirder and weirder..."

Draco glanced at him, brow raised. "Weirder than living under the same roof as Sirius Black?"

Hermione chuckled softly. "Definitely weirder than that."

And the three of them stood there in stunned silence, watching the unlikeliest couple at the fair disappear toward the vendor tents.

Tom chuckled softly as they strolled away from the game booth, the La Luna plush now cradled in Jess's arms. Her lingering excitement clung to the air around them like a warm ember—radiant, genuine, and oddly contagious. He had to admit, there was something deeply satisfying about watching her so delighted. The sound of her laugh, the way her cheeks flushed from joy rather than embarrassment, the way her eyes had sparkled when he handed her that plush—none of it was calculated. None of it was forced. It was real.

Perhaps this fair hadn't been such a terrible idea after all.

Her earlier words echoed back in his mind: Are you using magic?

It was a question that should have alarmed him, or at the very least annoyed him. But from her lips, it hadn't sounded like suspicion. It had been playful—curious, even. And that little burst of giddy excitement when he actually won? That had been adorable.

As they continued walking, the path led them toward a sprawling white tent near the edge of the fairgrounds. The heavy fabric fluttered in the breeze, and the smell of handmade candles, warm wood, and sweet confections drifted outward like an inviting cloud. Inside, local artisans had set up their booths with everything from carved trinket boxes and woven wall hangings to enchanted jewelry and home-crafted fudge. Strings of fairy lights draped along the ceiling cast the space in a soft, magical glow.

Jess lit up the moment they stepped inside. Her eyes immediately caught sight of a display stacked with assorted chocolate boxes nestled among velvet lining. "Ooo! These look yummy," she said, stepping closer with a dreamy smile. "I love white chocolate. And mint milk chocolate... and chocolate-covered cherries? Yes, please."

Tom raised a brow at her, intrigued. "Me too," he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Especially the chocolate cherries. Queen Anne's have always been my favorite."

Jess turned to face him, blinking in surprise as her mouth fell open just slightly. "Really? Me too!"

The sheer sincerity in her voice caught him off guard, and for the second time that day, Tom felt something unfamiliar curl beneath his ribs—something warm. Comforting. It wasn't just shared taste in sweets. It was the simple joy of realizing they had something in common. Something mundane. Human. It struck him how rare that feeling was for him.

They stood there for a moment, side by side, both smiling a bit more than either of them meant to. The La Luna plush was tucked beneath Jess's arm like a prized treasure, and the scent of cocoa, mint, and sugar lingered around them like a charm.

Tom reached out, plucking a box of mint chocolate truffles from the display and studying it. "We should get some," he said casually. "You can't possibly come to a fair and not leave with sweets."

Jess laughed and gave a playful nod. "Deal. But only if we share them."

His crimson eyes met hers again, a quiet amusement dancing there. "Of course. Sharing is half the fun."

From across the path, tucked between two jewelry stands and a booth selling hand-carved incense holders, the trio watched the unlikely couple with wide eyes and stunned silence. None of them spoke at first. They didn't need to. Their expressions said everything.

Tom Riddle—the Dark Lord, He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Anywhere-Near-a-Fair—stood beside a radiant redhead, who was cradling a deep navy plush cat like it was a prize from the heavens. The girl—Jess—was smiling up at him with a joy so pure and disarming it made the whole scene look... normal. Wholesome, even. Like they were just any other couple enjoying a summer afternoon.

Hermione blinked slowly, her eyes following the way Tom reached for a box of chocolates, his body language unnervingly casual. "I—Is he flirting?" she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

"He's not just flirting," Draco muttered, his voice low and incredulous. "He's... charming. Merlin, is that what he's like when he's not hexing people into walls?"

Harry crossed his arms but didn't tear his eyes away. "And she's into it," he said quietly. "Look at her. She's smiling at him like he's some dark-haired prince out of a romance book."

Hermione's brows pulled together. Her expression wasn't just one of shock—it was analytical. Watching Tom Riddle laugh and walk casually through the vendor tents, letting a girl like Jess tug him along, was like witnessing a Thestral sing opera. Everything about it defied expectation.

Jess leaned in closer to one of the tables, cooing softly over a display of mint and cherry chocolates. Tom said something, and she laughed—laughed—with such ease that it made Hermione feel like she was seeing a side of the world that shouldn't exist. Tom Riddle and... domesticity?

"Well," Hermione finally said, letting out a breath and stepping away from the tent they'd been hiding behind. "I think we could use something sweet too."

Draco blinked. "What?"

"I need sugar if I'm going to keep watching that without losing my mind," she muttered, stepping over to the nearest vendor table. She exchanged a few pounds with a kindly older woman and returned with a clear bag of glittering rock candy—long, crystalline sticks in vivid purples and blues.

She handed each boy one of the grape-flavored sticks, and then peeled open her own with a quiet sigh. "Rock candy. Childhood classic. Also good for coping with... emotional whiplash."

Draco accepted his candy with an uncertain glance, eyeing the swaying, sparkling sugar. "Is this really going to help?"

Harry smirked as he took his. "Can't hurt."

The three of them leaned quietly against the side of a tent, slowly crunching their candy like war-hardened observers watching a parallel universe unfold before their eyes. Tom and Jess had moved on to the next booth, Jess now holding both the plush and a box of truffles, her laughter ringing faintly across the fairground.

"She's brave," Hermione muttered, almost to herself.

"Or insane," Draco added.

"No," Harry said softly, "she sees something we don't."

They stood there, chewing on sugar crystals and trying to figure out if the world had always been this upside-down—or if today was just special.

---

As they strolled through the winding aisles of the vendor tents, Jess's attention was suddenly caught by a modest jewelry stand nestled between two larger booths. The display shimmered beneath the golden haze of the late afternoon sun—delicate chains glinting like stardust, gemstones catching the light in every shade imaginable. Necklaces, rings, and bracelets were arranged artfully on velvet displays and hanging racks, swaying ever so slightly in the warm summer breeze.

Tom slowed his steps beside her, his gaze sweeping lazily across the glittering display. Amidst the array of trinkets, one piece caught his eye—a ring. Silver, minimal yet refined, its band was designed in the elegant shape of a coiled serpent, the head arching protectively around a deep, polished green agate stone. It was subtle but symbolic, and something about its serpentine design seemed to resonate with him in a quiet, personal way. There was no flashiness, no unnecessary flare. It spoke in symbols—just as he often did.

As he examined the ring between his fingers, his attention drifted to Jess beside him. She was browsing the hanging necklaces with a gentle concentration, her fingers lightly skimming the silver and gold strands as if feeling for energy rather than admiring mere appearance. His gaze moved lower, to her hands—graceful and slender, with neatly shaped oval nails ending in a clean, elegant French tip. They weren't overly polished or dressed up, but their natural beauty struck him. Refined, purposeful—much like the woman herself.

For the briefest moment, a question formed in his mind. What ring size does she wear?

He didn't get the chance to ask.

"Tom?" she said, her voice soft and inquisitive. She had turned just in time to see the ring in his hand, and her eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh! That's a cute one. It looks like a snake coiling around the gem."

Before he could reply, Jess reached out and gently took the ring from his fingers. With a casual confidence, she slipped it onto her middle finger.

Her eyes widened. "Oh! It fits!" she gasped, holding her hand up to admire it. The coiled serpent hugged her finger perfectly, the green agate gleaming against her pale skin like it had always belonged there.

Tom's smirk deepened. Without a word, he pulled out his card and handed it to the vendor—a kindly older woman with graying curls and an expression that said she'd seen her fair share of love stories bloom at her booth.

Jess turned sharply, startled. "Tom, what are you—"

"A gift," he said simply, voice smooth and resolute as he took his card back from the woman and slipped it into his wallet with the same fluid grace he did everything.

Jess stared at him, visibly taken aback. A blush bloomed on her cheeks, subtle but unmistakable, the pink hue dusting her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. Her fingers curled slightly, the cool silver band resting snug against her skin like a secret she suddenly wasn't sure how to process.

She glanced at him again, heart thudding a little too fast. He hadn't hesitated. He saw something he wanted her to have—and made it hers. Just like that.

The air between them warmed with something unspoken, something that didn't need to be defined just yet. Jess lowered her gaze to the ring again, smiling softly as she turned her hand toward the light. It glittered back at her—a perfect little coil of symbolism, mystery, and meaning. A gift from Tom.

And somehow, it felt like more than that.

Not far from the jewelry booth, Hermione, Draco, and Harry stood partially obscured by another vendor tent, pretending to browse—but none of them could tear their eyes away from the scene unfolding before them.

Hermione was holding a small bag of grape rock candy, forgotten in her hand as she watched with open astonishment. Her eyes had widened the moment Tom pulled out his card and bought Jess the ring without hesitation. Draco, beside her, looked like he wasn't sure if he was more surprised by Tom's uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture or by the genuine delight Jess displayed. Harry, meanwhile, had stiffened, his gaze trained sharply on the pair as a strange mixture of unease and curiosity churned in his gut.

Then Jess giggled—a soft, radiant sound that felt too normal, too human for the man they once knew as the Dark Lord. She turned with a light step toward the next vendor, her La Luna plush still tucked against her arm. The nearby booth was draped in earthy tones, showcasing vibrant Native American throw blankets, the fabrics woven with complex patterns and symbols that shimmered slightly in the sunlight. She moved to them with wide-eyed appreciation, her fingers delicately brushing over the detailed embroidery as though admiring sacred art.

The trio glanced at one another, silently processing what they had just witnessed.

"She... looks really happy," Hermione whispered, uncertain whether the words were meant for herself or the others.

"Are we sure he's not under some kind of spell?" Draco muttered, eyes still on Tom, who now stood by the vendor as Jess explored the blankets.

But then—just as they started to lower their gazes, an arm reached suddenly over Harry's shoulder, resting there with unnerving ease.

All three of them froze.

Harry's breath caught sharply, and the familiar sting in his scar flared—a dull, throbbing burn that settled deep in his forehead like a warning bell.

Tom Riddle stood at Harry's side, impossibly close. None of them had seen him move.

He leaned in with casual grace, his voice a soft whisper—velvet and venom threaded into one.

"Now," he murmured, his tone nearly musical, "why are you three... stalking?"

Harry stiffened further, his fists tightening at his sides. He could feel the weight of those red eyes without even looking. Draco inhaled sharply and went still, while Hermione instinctively clutched her bag of candy closer to her chest, her heart racing.

Tom didn't move to threaten. He didn't raise his voice. But the air around them had shifted—charged, coiled like a snake preparing to strike. And yet, he smiled. Calm. Composed.

And utterly unreadable.

In the distance, Jess was still admiring the blankets, unaware of the tension building just feet away.

Tom tilted his head slightly, as if amused by their shared silence.

"Well?" he asked again, voice still low, dangerously smooth.

"Just... curious," Harry managed to say, his tone more defensive than he intended. "It's not every day we see you at a fair. With cotton candy. And... someone like her."

Tom's smirk barely moved, but a dark glint flickered in his crimson eyes. "Curiosity," he murmured, "can be... dangerous."

Without warning, he reached up and pinched Harry's cheek—not harshly, but firmly enough to make the younger wizard flinch and gasp in surprise. The touch was brief, unsettlingly casual, like one might toy with a child or a pet just to establish dominance.

Then, with a voice so low it was nearly inaudible to anyone but Harry, Tom hissed in Parseltongue, "Keep being curious, Harry... and see where it takes you. I have no wand on me... but I'm still more powerful than you can fathom without a wand on hand."

The words slithered like smoke through Harry's mind, cold and venom-laced despite their quiet tone. His scar pulsed again, sharp and quick—a warning shot rather than a threat.

And just like that, Tom withdrew his hand and turned away. No further words. No glance back. He walked with the kind of calm that only came from absolute confidence, slipping seamlessly back into the crowd and toward the one person he'd been with the entire time—Jess.

Jess stood a few paces away, beaming with excitement as she held up a striking blanket. "Look at this one!" she said brightly. "It's purple! They don't have any green ones, but it's so pretty—and it's so soft."

The blanket she held was a vibrant piece of Native American craftsmanship—bold purple with sunburst hues of red, orange, and gold running through geometric patterns. It shimmered in the late afternoon light, plush and inviting.

Tom reached out, running his fingers over the fabric with a raised eyebrow. "Wow... it is soft," he murmured, the threat from just moments ago completely gone from his tone. His voice was warmer now, softer. "You going to get it?"

Jess smirked and nodded. "Yes. The vendor said he can ship it to my place. He figured it'd be hard to carry around today."

A rare, genuine smile ghosted across Tom's lips as he watched her speak—how her fingers lingered lovingly against the fabric, how her eyes glowed with simple joy.

Behind them, still frozen by the booth across the path, Hermione, Draco, and Harry stood in stunned silence.

Hermione's mouth parted slightly, as if to speak, but no words came. Draco's expression was caught somewhere between shock and disbelief, while Harry pressed his hand against the side of his face where Tom had touched him—his mind spinning from the encounter.

None of them could reconcile what they were seeing.

The Dark Lord.

Flirting. Buying gifts. Admiring a blanket with a girl.

And Jess? She didn't seem controlled. She didn't look enchanted. She looked... happy. And the worst part? So did he.

---

The night air crackled with the vibrant pulse of the fair. The golden tones of the setting sun had long faded, replaced by a kaleidoscope of neon lights that painted the walkways in hues of green, blue, pink, and violet. The entire fairground felt like it had come alive—the whirling of rides echoing through the air, carnival music overlapping in chaotic harmony, and the scent of fried dough, sweet kettle corn, and powdered sugar drifting on the breeze.

Jess, her cheeks flushed with excitement, grasped Tom's wrist and tugged him forward through the glowing crowd. "Come on! You have to try this one!"

Tom arched a brow, but didn't resist. His crimson eyes scanned the illuminated midway. Despite how much noise and chaos surrounded them, he wasn't overwhelmed. In fact, there was something strangely grounding about it all. The unfiltered joy of the crowd. The glint of laughter in the air. The simple, unburdened chaos of life.

Ahead of them, a massive UFO-shaped ride glowed in vibrant green and indigo. Flashing lights raced across its surface, the name Gravitron blaring in bold letters across the top. The ride hummed like an engine preparing for launch.

Jess twirled around, her long braid bouncing over her shoulder as she gestured dramatically toward the machine. "This was my favorite ride when I was younger! You stand up against the wall, and it spins so fast you get pinned there—no seatbelts, just centrifugal force. It's insane!"

Tom stared at it, unconvinced. "You're telling me people willingly subject themselves to this?"

Jess laughed, her grin infectious. "Come on, Mr. Skeptical. You've survived worse. Where's that legendary bravery of yours?"

He gave a dry smirk, his tone low and teasing. "That tends to emerge in... different situations."

She rolled her eyes at him but kept tugging him forward. "You're impossible. Just trust me—you'll love it."

As they moved into line, the glowing ride pulsing behind them, the trio following at a safe but not subtle distance caught Tom's attention. He glanced over his shoulder—not in suspicion, not with annoyance—but with a small, knowing smile. A flicker of amusement danced in his expression, almost playful.

Jess followed his gaze and blinked in surprise when she saw the three teens lingering nearby. "Oh! Are those the boys you said you knew?" she asked cheerfully, turning to offer them a polite smile. "Hi!"

Harry stiffened and flushed slightly under the sudden attention. "H-Hello..." he managed, his voice cracking just a little.

Draco looked caught between alarm and fascination, but gave a respectful nod. "Hello..."

Hermione, ever graceful, offered a small wave. "Hello."

Jess beamed. "It's nice to meet you. Tom, love, you didn't tell me you had teenage friends."

Tom's brow rose ever so slightly at the word love, but he didn't correct her. Instead, he turned back to the group with that same subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We're not exactly friends," he said smoothly, "More like... acquaintances. Isn't that right, kids?"

Then, with casual ease—and to the utter shock of the trio—he repeated, "Come along, love. Let's see if this machine is truly as terrifying as you claim."

Jess turned nearly crimson, blinking rapidly at the fact that he'd said it back. Her heart skipped a beat.

Behind them, Harry, Hermione, and Draco were left standing like deer in headlights.

"He just... he said it back," Hermione whispered, wide-eyed.

Harry blinked. "He really is on a date."

Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "And he doesn't even seem like he wants to murder anyone."

A few moments later, Tom, Jess, and the trio stepped into the dimly lit chamber of the ride. The Gravitron's interior was circular, lined with vertical padded panels, each with its own designated standing area. Dim, colored lights pulsed in rhythm with the mechanical hum of the ride, casting shadows that danced across the curved walls like ghosts.

A mechanical voice crackled overhead, distorted slightly by the speakers. "Please lean back against the wall. Keep your arms and feet within your space. Prepare for launch."

Jess beamed as she took her place along the padded wall, adjusting her stance like a seasoned pro. "Ready?" she called out with a giddy grin, already vibrating with excitement.

Tom exhaled through his nose, his arms folding across his chest in that familiar, calm posture. "If I must," he drawled with dry amusement, shifting his back against the panel. His crimson eyes flicked toward the speakers as the doors hissed shut behind them, locking them all inside the chamber.

"Alright, everyone!" came the carny's enthusiastic shout from the speaker system. "Let's enjoy our HARD INVASION!"

The lights flared. A jolt of bass rattled through the floor. Then, without warning, hardcore techno music erupted—heavy, fast, and relentless. The deep pulse of the beat matched the vibration now building beneath their feet, the air thick with anticipation.

The platform began to rotate.

Slow at first—just a gentle spin. But then it gained momentum. Faster. Harder. The ride whirled with violent grace, centrifugal force pinning each rider to the wall like insects caught in an invisible web.

Jess let out an exhilarated squeal of laughter, her hair lifting slightly from the intensity as she tilted her head back and grinned wide. Her entire body buzzed with adrenaline. "Yes! This is the best part!"

Harry was somewhere to her left, yelling something incoherent that got drowned out by the music, while Draco looked frozen, wide-eyed, his fingers splayed against the wall like he was clinging to the last shred of his dignity. Hermione was somewhere between terrified and delighted, her eyes squeezed shut but a smile threatening to break through.

And Tom...

He didn't move.

His long frame remained perfectly still, arms still crossed, legs locked in place. His gaze flicked across the chamber, entirely too calm for someone caught in a glorified spin cycle. His hair fluttered slightly, his coat pulled taut by the pressure, but he looked less like someone on a ride—and more like someone observing a new spell in motion.

He even smirked.

Jess turned her head—an effort, considering the pressure—and found him smirking at her.

"Oh, don't tell me this doesn't faze you at all," she huffed.

Tom chuckled, his voice smooth despite the rush of movement. "It's an... interesting sensation. But I've experienced far stranger forces than this."

Jess narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're ridiculous."

The ride continued, their laughter and conversation blending into the electric energy of the night.

And for the first time in a very long time, Tom Riddle wasn't thinking about the past... or the future.

He wasn't lost in memories of orphanage walls or war rooms of strategy. He wasn't calculating power, plotting legacy, or dissecting prophecy. No—just the present. Spinning wildly in a kaleidoscope of neon lights and pulsing bass, surrounded by the dizzying hum of gravity and the infectious sound of Jess's laughter.

Tom grinned.

It caught him off guard—that rare expression tugging at the corners of his lips. This was... fun. Genuinely fun. The rush of the ride, the chaos of movement, the sensation of weightlessness—it stirred something youthful inside him, something forgotten.

But it wasn't just the ride that intrigued him.

His gaze shifted. Jess stood pressed against the wall, hair billowing slightly from the centrifugal force, her eyes gleaming under the dance of green and blue lights. Her laughter—light, breathless, and sincere—seemed to echo louder than the music. It was untouched by darkness, unburdened by the weight of destiny.

Something in his chest tightened.

Not from the spinning. No, this was something else. Something... warm.

And before he could think better of it, his hand moved—drawn toward hers by the very force meant to keep them apart. His fingers brushed against hers, hesitant at first. But then they laced together, fitting perfectly. Natural. As if they had always belonged that way.

Jess tensed slightly, her breath catching. But she didn't pull away.

Instead, her smile softened, her fingers curling back around his. Even in the dim light, Tom caught the faint pink that bloomed across her cheeks.

Was this... a date?

The realization struck him like a lightning bolt—unfamiliar and exhilarating.

He had taken girls to Slughorn's Christmas parties at Hogwarts, yes, but those had always been for appearance. Empty gestures. Cold calculation.

This... this wasn't that.

This was different. Real.

And Tom, the boy who never allowed himself to hope for ordinary things, found himself wanting to hold onto it. To hold onto her.

Jess gave his hand the faintest squeeze, a small but deliberate gesture.

It sent a ripple through him, deep and unfamiliar. He didn't fully understand it. He wasn't sure he wanted to. But he didn't want to let go.

Not yet.

The ride began to slow, the humming bass and flashing lights fading gradually as the spinning eased. Gravity returned, pressing them back into place—but their hands remained joined.

And for once, Tom didn't question it.

Not far from them, near the opposite wall of the ride, Draco managed to reach out through the blaring lights and trembling air—and took Harry's hand.

The gesture wasn't deliberate at first. It was instinct, proximity, a desperate need to stay grounded. But when their fingers touched, Harry didn't flinch. In fact, he turned to look at Draco with the kind of grin that made his green eyes glow even under the neon wash.

Draco's heart stuttered. Harry looked like he was having the time of his life.

The music—the pounding, rebellious techno that rattled the chamber—was so loud it felt like it vibrated through their bones. Harry wasn't just enduring it. He loved it. His head bobbed to the rhythm, his laughter mixing with the wildness of the beat. He looked like he belonged in the chaos.

And to Draco's quiet shock... he felt like he belonged too.

He didn't let go of Harry's hand either.

Not this time.

As the Gravitron came to a full stop and its doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, Jess and Tom descended the steps side by side, the cool night air rushing to greet them like a welcome breath after the intense whirl of the ride. The scent of fried dough, sweet roasted nuts, and kettle corn wafted through the air, blending with the neon-lit night as laughter and music pulsed all around.

Jess stretched her arms high above her head, her braid shifting over her shoulder as she let out a gleeful exhale. "Wow! That was so fun!" she said, practically glowing. Her cheeks were flushed from the thrill, eyes sparkling under the bright fair lights.

Tom chuckled softly beside her, the corners of his lips curling upward. He wasn't a man who smiled easily—his smirks were sharp, subtle, calculated. But with Jess, the amusement came naturally. Her enthusiasm was radiant, infectious... grounding in a way he never anticipated.

Then—growl.

His stomach rumbled.

Right after hers did.

They both froze for a second, glancing at each other in surprise.

Then laughter.

Unrestrained and genuine, it bubbled up between them, blending effortlessly with the surrounding buzz of the fair. For a moment, nothing else existed—just the echo of shared laughter, the kind that came only when two people were perfectly in sync.

Jess placed a hand over her stomach and pointed toward a golden-lit row of food stalls. "Wanna try some funnel cake?" she asked, grinning.

Tom blinked, briefly caught off guard. Funnel cake?

The name pulled at a memory long buried—children clustered together in threadbare clothes, sticky fingers tearing pieces of sweet, powdered sugar-covered dough beneath a twilit sky. A fair in the 1930s, the rare taste of something indulgent. He hadn't thought of that in decades.

His crimson eyes flicked back to Jess, whose hopeful expression was utterly disarming.

"Sure," he said with a small, genuine nod. "Sounds good."

Jess beamed, slipping her hand into his again and giving it a playful squeeze. "Come on, then! Let's grab something to eat and drink. Lemonade sounds good too!"

Tom let her tug him along toward the food vendors, allowing her light to guide him through the thrumming heart of the fair.

A few paces behind, the trio had followed at a slower pace, still stunned by everything they'd seen that evening.

Draco, his face slightly pale and posture slouched, released a soft groan. "Harry... I think I need to sit down."

Harry, still holding Draco's hand, looked at him with concern but also a fond smile. "You okay?"

"I'll live," Draco muttered, "but Merlin, those Muggle rides aren't for the faint of heart."

Hermione smiled gently at the sight of the two boys still clasping hands. "Come on," she said brightly, "let's follow them. There's a bench near the food stalls—we can sit and grab something to drink."

"Water sounds lovely, Granger," Draco said, clearly exhausted but trying to maintain his pride.

As they trailed after Tom and Jess, their pace steady, Hermione glanced between Harry and Draco and couldn't help but smile again—soft and knowing. Perhaps this summer really was changing everything.

The scent of fried sugar hung in the air like a sweet spell as Jess and Tom stepped away from the Gravitron, the world spinning just a little slower beneath their feet. The cool night breeze swept through the fairgrounds, brushing against their faces and cooling their flushed cheeks. Jess stretched her arms overhead with a glowing grin, her laughter still echoing from the thrill of the ride.

"Wow! That was so fun!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling beneath the shimmering neon lights.

Tom chuckled, a low sound of amusement that slipped past his lips before he could stop it. There was something about her—so bright, so effortlessly warm—that pulled laughter out of him without effort. His lips curled into a faint smirk, more relaxed than he had been all day.

Just then, their stomachs let out simultaneous growls, low and unmistakable. They blinked at each other before bursting into laughter. It was light, real, and utterly unguarded. Jess clutched her side as she laughed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Okay, okay. Clearly we need to feed ourselves."

She pointed ahead to a line of vendor stalls glowing with golden lights, where fairgoers bustled about holding giant turkey legs, fried Oreos, and lemonade slushies. "Wanna try some funnel cake?"

Tom paused at the question, blinking as if summoned back from another time. Funnel cake. The memory hit him with surprising clarity—back in the 1930s, a rare summer fair with a few other orphans, a moment when they'd pooled what few coins they had just to buy one. The sweet fried dough had tasted like freedom. He hadn't thought about it in years.

He glanced at Jess, her face lit up with hope and excitement. "Sure," he said quietly. "Sounds good."

Jess grinned and tugged his hand, guiding him through the crowd. Her touch was soft but sure, and the connection between them now felt more natural than any magic he'd ever known.

They arrived at the funnel cake stand, the air thick with the smell of frying dough and powdered sugar. Jess leaned in toward the vendor. "One large funnel cake, please," she said cheerfully.

Tom observed the process with quiet curiosity as the batter was poured into the fryer, curling into crisp golden spirals. Meanwhile, Jess turned her attention to the drink menu, her eyes lighting up as she spotted something familiar. "And two cotton candy lemonades," she added, pointing to the vivid blue drink advertised on a sign beside the register.

Tom raised a skeptical brow, watching the vendor add a generous tuft of blue cotton candy atop the fizzy lemonade. "Cotton candy... in lemonade?"

Jess giggled as she accepted both drinks, passing one to Tom. "Trust me. Sweet and tangy. The cotton candy melts right into it."

He took the cup with a small nod and sipped through the striped straw. To his surprise, his brow lifted as the flavor hit his tongue—sweet, yes, but oddly refreshing. "Not bad," he admitted, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

With the funnel cake now resting on a paper plate dusted heavily in powdered sugar, Jess carried it over to a nearby picnic table. She plopped down onto the bench, placing the plate between them. Tom joined her, his crimson eyes examining the pastry curiously.

Jess wasted no time, tearing off a piece and popping it into her mouth with a delighted hum. "This is one of my favorite fair foods."

Tom followed her lead, tearing off a corner and tasting it. The warm dough melted on his tongue, the sweetness not overwhelming but nostalgic. He let out a quiet hum of approval, his lips curling into a rare, genuine smile. "Alright," he said, nodding slightly. "This might be the best thing I've had all day."

Jess beamed at him. "Told you so."

Meanwhile, just a short distance away, Harry, Hermione, and Draco followed behind them, still riding the lingering shock of the night. They had found a bench near another vendor stand, with Draco visibly pale and slightly dizzy from the intense ride. Hermione sat beside him, holding a bottle of water she'd just bought. "Here, drink this."

Draco took it gratefully. "Thanks, Granger. I think my soul left my body back there..."

Hermione chuckled softly while Harry remained quiet, his green eyes watching Tom and Jess at the picnic table. The two of them looked almost... normal. Laughing, eating funnel cake, sipping bright blue drinks. It was surreal.

"Still think he's hexed her?" Hermione asked, not looking away.

Draco sighed, leaning back against the bench. "Honestly? At this point... I think she might be the one hexing him."

Harry blinked, then burst into laughter.

And for now, they all just watched—three friends, caught between two worlds, and maybe... on the edge of understanding a little more about the people they thought they knew.

They watched as Tom stood up from the picnic table and made his way toward the restrooms nearby, disappearing behind a line of vendor carts. Jess remained seated, sipping the last of her cotton candy lemonade, her plush cat nestled in her lap and the remnants of the funnel cake between her and the empty spot where Tom had been. She looked calm—serene, even—but her gaze eventually lifted, meeting theirs.

Harry, Hermione, and Draco stiffened as Jess slowly rose to her feet. The soft evening glow lit her silhouette as she crossed the few steps toward them, her movements casual but purposeful. Her face bore a small, polite smile, but something unreadable stirred behind her eyes.

"Why have you three been following me and Tom?" she asked gently.

All three blinked in surprise. Hermione opened her mouth, then promptly closed it. Draco looked to Harry, who awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

Harry offered a weak chuckle. "We're just... enjoying the fair."

Jess tilted her head slightly, the corners of her smile faltering. In that moment, something shifted. A subtle pressure seemed to ripple through the air around her—a quiet, powerful pulse that made the hairs on their arms stand on end.

"I do not like to be lied to, Harry Potter," she said, her voice still calm but carrying a weight that silenced the noise of the fair around them.

Their eyes widened. Hermione stiffened. Draco nearly dropped his water bottle.

Harry blinked, stunned. "You... know who I am?"

Jess's gaze didn't waver. "Answer the question, Harry Potter."

His brows drew together, his throat tightening. "It's because of Tom," he finally said. "Tom Riddle. He's the—"

But just then, they all felt it—that distinct, electric ripple in the air. A faint stir of magic brushed over them like a passing breeze, subtle yet undeniable. It wasn't Tom. It was her.

Hermione's breath caught as her eyes widened, staring at Jess in quiet shock. That sensation... that flicker of power followed by its sudden absence—it meant only one thing.

Jess had masked her magical aura completely.

Not cloaked, not suppressed, but utterly erased from detection. Hermione's mind reeled. That level of concealment wasn't basic glamor work. It was an advanced magical skill—one typically only mastered by the most powerful witches and wizards. Albus Dumbledore had done it effortlessly. So had Lord Voldemort. And now this... girl, no older than they were, had just done the same, without a wand or a word. Not even a flicker of visible strain.

Who is she?

Jess turned calmly, not a hint of the confrontation lingering in her expression. Her gaze shifted toward the approaching figure—Tom, emerging from the restroom, casually drying his hands with a napkin. Jess's entire demeanor had shifted in that breath. Gone was the intimidating force that had stared Harry down. In its place was the girl with the bright smile and glittering eyes, as if nothing had happened at all.

She tossed the trio one final, unreadable glance before walking back to the table with slow, deliberate grace. She sat down just as Tom reached her, her lips curling into a radiant smile as she met his eyes.

"Let's go by the Ferris wheel next?" she asked sweetly, brushing a lock of red hair behind her ear with effortless charm.

Tom glanced toward the towering, glowing wheel spinning in the distance, then back at her. His crimson gaze lingered for a moment—softening ever so slightly—before he gave a quiet nod. "Sure."

With that, they rose together and walked off, disappearing into the golden glow of the fairgrounds. Jess's laughter floated through the air like stardust, and Tom remained at her side, collected and steady, as if nothing could touch them.

The trio stood rooted in place, barely breathing. The crowd bustled around them, the lights and music carrying on as if the world hadn't just shifted on its axis.

Draco was the first to speak, his voice low and uncertain. "Granger... what did she just do?"

Hermione didn't answer right away. Her eyes were still fixed on the path Jess and Tom had taken.

Finally, she whispered, "She masked her aura... completely. That's not something just anyone can do. That takes power. Years of training. Experience."

Harry's throat felt dry. "So... she's not just some girl."

Hermione shook her head slowly, her voice barely above a murmur. "No... she's not. I don't feel like following them anymore."

Her words lingered in the air like an uneasy whisper. She crossed her arms, more out of instinct than discomfort, her gaze still trained on the fading silhouettes of Tom and Jess as they disappeared deeper into the fairgrounds.

"She's dangerous," Hermione continued, her voice low and steady. "Even the small flicker of magic we felt from her was powerful—contained and intentional. She kept it concentrated in such a narrow radius that we only felt her, not him. That level of control isn't normal for someone our age."

Harry's throat felt dry. He swallowed hard. "You think... she's a dark witch?"

Hermione immediately shook her head. "No. That wasn't dark magic I felt from her." She hesitated, her brow furrowing. "It wasn't light either. Her magic was... grey."

"Grey?" Harry blinked, trying to process what that meant. "Like... a grey witch?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a quiet intensity. "Balanced. Not swayed by either side. That's why it felt so neutral—so calm and focused, even when she confronted us. She's walking the line between light and dark."

Harry's eyes widened slightly, a memory flickering to the surface. "A grey witch... like a grey Jedi?"

Hermione smirked, just a little, the tension easing from her shoulders for a moment. "Yes, Harry. That's actually a really good comparison."

Draco, who had been watching them both with visible confusion, arched a brow. "A grey Jedi? What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

Harry turned toward him, a small, amused grin forming. "It's from Star Wars. You know, Jedi are the light side—kind of like Light wizards. Sith are dark, like Dark wizards. But a grey Jedi walks the line between both. They follow the Force, but not the rules of the Jedi Council. They're powerful because they balance emotion and discipline. Don't worry I'll make you watch the movies."

Draco stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "That's... the most absurd thing I've ever heard. But strangely... I think I understand."

Hermione glanced between them, her amusement quickly fading. "Grey witches are rare, Draco. Very rare. They often operate outside the bounds of our usual magical systems—Ministries, schoolhouses, magical law. Some are seers, some are enchanters... and some, well... they're born from very old bloodlines. Ancient ones."

Draco went pale. "You think she's one of those?"

"I think," Hermione said carefully, her eyes narrowing as pieces began to align in her mind, "she's not someone we should underestimate. And definitely not someone we should spy on again."

She paused, visibly troubled, the realization settling deeper into her voice.

"The only magical family known to possess that level of controlled grey aura... is the Magical Royal Family. And I think I—I've seen it in her. In her posture, her power, even her tone. Her looks! It hit me just now..."

She turned, meeting Harry's wide-eyed stare.

"She looks like a younger version of Princess Dawn."

Harry's heart nearly skipped a beat.

"I've met her," he said, voice low with dawning shock. "Oh my god... I met her."

Hermione's brows lifted in realization, but Harry was already caught in the memory, words spilling out as it all clicked into place.

"Remember when I was called to Dumbledore's office? After the Department of Mysteries mess? They were there—the Princess and Prince. The King's sister, Dawn and her husband. I told you how stunning she was. The way she walked, talked—commanding the room like Dumbledore was the student and not the headmaster."

Hermione nodded, recalling the story he had told with casual disbelief at the time. "Yeah... you said the they put Dumbledore in his place."

Harry blinked hard, trying to process it. "That was her mother... and Jess—she looks just like her. And Prince Jerith is her father."

Draco, who had been sipping water with increasing discomfort, sputtered slightly. "Wait. For real?"

He coughed into his bottle and sat up straighter, eyes flicking between the two of them. "You're saying that girl—the redhead with Riddle—is possibly the daughter of Princess Dawn and Prince Jerith? From the Royal Family?"

Hermione nodded gravely. "It would explain everything. Her aura. Her power. Her control. And why she could hide her magic so precisely—and lock it down in front of someone like Tom Riddle without flinching."

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, stunned. "I can't believe I didn't recognize it. She looks just like her. Same energy too... but younger, sharper."

Draco leaned back, swallowing slowly. "Bloody hell... we were just watching the daughter of magical royalty flirt with the Dark Lord at a fair while sharing cotton candy."

There was a pause. Then—

Hermione muttered, "This summer's going to be insane, isn't it?"

Harry and Draco just nodded in stunned silence, as fireworks burst somewhere above them, lighting the fairgrounds with flickering color that felt all too symbolic.

---

As they approached the Ferris wheel, its towering frame illuminated in pulsing neon lights, Jess's eyes lit up with pure excitement. The colorful glow shimmered against her skin, casting an almost magical aura around her. She tilted her head up, watching as the massive wheel rotated slowly against the night sky, each passenger cart gliding gently through the air like stars on a soft orbit.

"It's so pretty," she murmured, her voice soft and filled with nostalgic awe.

She turned to Tom, her smile radiant beneath the glow. "Are we going on?"

Tom followed her gaze to the top of the wheel, its size and vibrant colors stirring something buried deep in his memory. It was nothing like the grim, rusted ride from his childhood—the one the boys at the orphanage had forced him onto, laughing as they tried to push him from the edge of the cart. He'd gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white, his magic flaring without his control, anchoring him to safety.

That had been his first brush with fear—and magic. But this? This moment was entirely different.

He gave a quiet chuckle, brushing the old memory away like dust. "Yeah," he said, meeting her gaze. "Let's do it."

Jess beamed and slipped her hand into his, tugging him toward the queue. He didn't resist. Their fingers laced together naturally, his grip firm and warm. As they waited, the fairgrounds buzzed around them with vibrant life—shouts of laughter, the hum of games, and music drifting from nearby speakers. The scent of funnel cakes and buttered popcorn lingered sweetly in the air.

Tom's eyes lingered on their hands, that simple contact oddly grounding. The sensation was strange—not unwelcome, just unfamiliar. He wasn't used to such closeness, not without hidden agendas, not without expectation. But this day—this girl—it all felt different. Free of obligation. Free of masks.

Was this... a date?

The thought crept into his mind again, unbidden and disorienting. He'd never been on one. Slughorn's parties were political at best, and every smile he'd ever given had been rehearsed. But this? Jess wasn't calculating him. She was just with him.

His gaze flicked toward her—eyes full of wonder as she looked at the ride. Her joy, her warmth... it stirred something in him that defied logic. Something he didn't quite have a name for.

Before he could examine it further, a burst of laughter nearby drew their attention. A group of girls stood just outside the railing, clearly watching them.

"Hey!" one called, eyes locked on Tom. "The handsome one with the black hair!"

He blinked slowly, crimson eyes shifting to them.

One of the girls nudged her friend and whispered, "Are those cosplay contacts? They're so cool."

Another, bolder one, twirled a strand of her hair and flashed him a flirty smile. "So... wanna ditch and hang out with us?"

Jess immediately tensed beside him, her grip tightening slightly. Her smile faded as her gaze dropped to the pavement. But before insecurity could settle in, Tom let go of her hand—and casually draped his arm around her shoulders.

Jess looked up in stunned silence, her heart skipping.

Tom didn't even spare the girls a second glance. His voice came low and smooth. "Can't you see I'm with someone?"

The words weren't aggressive, but they carried weight, a firm line drawn in the sand.

The girls' hopeful grins faltered, one of them muttering something under her breath as they turned away in disappointment.

"Next up! Ooo, a couple!" the ride operator called, gesturing for them.

Tom led Jess forward, his hand falling from her shoulder only when they slid into the seat. The safety bar locked with a soft click, and the cart rocked gently as the Ferris wheel began to ascend.

The fair shrank beneath them, the world glowing with soft color and flickering lights. Jess peeked down, spotting the girls below staring up with clear envy in their eyes.

A slow, victorious smirk curved her lips.

Yeah. She'd won this round.

Tom, beside her, leaned back against the seat, watching the lights with a curious expression. But his gaze shifted to Jess a moment later—her smile, her flushed cheeks, the subtle spark in her eyes.

And quietly, beneath the dizzying heights and neon stars, he realized he didn't want the ride—or the evening—to end.

The Ferris wheel continued its steady climb, the world below slowly shrinking into a dazzling sea of neon lights and shadowy outlines. From their carriage high above the bustling fairgrounds, everything seemed quieter, softer. The laughter, the distant roar of rides, even the music—all of it faded into a gentle hush, leaving only the rhythm of the ride and the two of them in their own suspended world.

Jess leaned forward slightly, her arms resting against the safety bar, eyes wide with wonder. The golden light reflected off her skin, casting a delicate glow across her features. "Wow," she breathed, her voice quiet, almost reverent. "It's so pretty from up here."

But Tom wasn't watching the view. He hadn't been since they boarded.

His gaze stayed fixed on her—the way the lights danced in her eyes, the way her hair shifted gently with the evening breeze. Every part of her radiated something he couldn't quite name. Something rare. Something real.

"Jess," he said, her name curling off his tongue with surprising softness.

She turned her head, eyes blinking up at him. "Hmm?"

Tom hesitated for only a moment. His mind, always so sharp and precise, now wavered between vulnerability and boldness. But this wasn't a question he could keep buried any longer.

"I have to ask..." he began, voice low, "because I've been wondering all evening... Do you consider this a date?"

Jess's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers tightened slightly around the La Luna plush in her lap, its velvety texture grounding her as warmth bloomed across her cheeks. Her lips parted, and she gave a small, nervous laugh before whispering, "D-Do you?"

His answer was immediate. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips, though his eyes were soft.

"Yes," he said simply. "I do."

Her heart skipped wildly at the admission, and she could hardly find her voice. Tom shifted in his seat then, sliding closer until their shoulders brushed. The space between them dissolved, replaced by a quiet tension charged with something unspoken.

Jess tilted her face up, meeting his gaze. "Careful, Tom..." she murmured, her voice barely audible over the creak of the wheel.

He chuckled lowly. "It's fine. The ride can hold us both on one side."

His hand moved before he even realized it. Fingers reached up and gently cupped her cheek, his touch featherlight but deliberate. Jess leaned into it, her eyes fluttering shut as she exhaled softly, the warmth of his palm grounding her in the moment.

Her lips parted to speak again, but no words came.

And then Tom leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first—unspoken curiosity and rising affection mingling at the edges of their breath. Jess's hand rose to his chest, resting gently as if to keep herself tethered. The world beyond the carriage slipped away, fading into colors and sound, leaving only the electricity that sparked between them.

What began as tentative deepened quickly, lips moving in a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. Around them, magic stirred—silent, unseen, but palpable. It hummed in the air, not cast with a wand or whispered in incantation, but born of something ancient and unnamed.

Neither of them noticed the Ferris wheel slowing, nor the sound of the crowd returning to focus. They didn't hear the final click of the mechanism as their carriage came to rest at the bottom platform.

Until—

A loud, amused chuckle broke the trance.

They broke apart, startled, breath mingling in the narrow space between them as they blinked back into reality.

The ride operator, a stocky man with a grin far too knowing, released the safety bar with a loud clack. "Nice ride, huh?" he said, winking.

From the line below, a few teasing whistles and cheers erupted from teenagers and couples who had seen the intimate moment unfold from the ground.

Jess let out a mortified squeak and immediately covered her face with both hands. "Oh my god..."

Tom, in contrast, was the picture of composure. He rose from the seat with effortless grace and turned, offering his hand to her like nothing had happened. Jess hesitated, then took it. Once on solid ground, she stepped aside, attempting to gather herself as the heat in her cheeks refused to fade.

"Tom..." she began, clearing her throat and brushing her hair behind her ear. "Can we, um... stop by the restrooms for a second?"

Tom's smirk softened, and his voice was gentle. "Of course, love."

He said it so casually, so naturally, that Jess's heart gave another wild flutter.

And as they walked away from the Ferris wheel together, the carnival continued to swirl around them—lights flashing, music soaring—but for Tom and Jess, the world had already shifted. Something had changed.

Jess froze in place, the world momentarily blurring around her.

Love.

He had said it so casually, so effortlessly—as if the word belonged there. As if it wasn't something that sent her heart stuttering in her chest and heat rushing to her cheeks. Her breath caught, and for a split second, she didn't trust herself to look at him. Not without smiling like a fool.

So instead, she looked away, biting her lower lip in a poor attempt to suppress the giddy warmth bubbling inside her. "I'll be right back," she managed to say, her voice airy with restraint, before hurrying off in the direction of the restrooms.

Tom watched her go, head tilted slightly in thought. A faint smirk played across his lips, but his eyes were far more focused than amused—calculating, curious. There was something about her reaction that both pleased and intrigued him. That word had slipped out so naturally, hadn't it?

He exhaled, his breath visible in the cool air as he leaned casually against a post beside the ride's entrance. His hands slid into his pockets, his posture relaxed. Neon lights flickered across his sharp features, painting him in shifting hues of blue and violet.

And then—
A low, unmistakable hoot broke the hum of the night.

Tom's eyes sharpened instantly. His spine straightened as his attention cut through the noise, narrowing on a dark silhouette perched atop a nearby wooden sign—half-hidden in the shadows cast by a vendor's awning.

A large owl.

But not just any owl.

His expression darkened.

The Lestrange family owl.

His shoulders tensed as the memories surged unbidden. That owl only ever came bearing one name at the bottom of a letter.

Lord Falcon Lestrange.

The only man bold—or arrogant—enough to send him a message unprompted.

Tom moved swiftly but silently, stepping beneath the sign as the owl flapped its wings and let out another low hoot of impatience. With his left arm extended, he met the creature's golden gaze, and it reluctantly dropped its burden into his palm.

The moment the sealed parchment left its talons, the owl flapped once more and took off into the dark, vanishing across the moonlit sky without another sound.

Tom stared down at the folded letter in his hand, the thick parchment bearing the Lestrange crest etched in crimson wax. His lips pressed into a thin line as he turned it over. Whatever this was, it wasn't casual. Falcon Lestrange did nothing without purpose.

A pulse of irritation stirred in his chest. Now? Of all times?

He tucked the letter into the inner pocket of his coat, his fingers brushing the silk lining as if sealing it away with the motion. His eyes flicked once toward the restrooms where Jess had disappeared, the warmth from earlier still lingering somewhere beneath his ribs.

Not now.

Not while she was smiling.

Not while the scent of powdered sugar and the soft laughter of children still filled the air. Not for the first time in decades—he had begun to feel something more than bitterness or ambition. Whatever Falcon wanted... he would deal with it.

Later.

---

Jess stared at her reflection in the mirror, fingers gripping the porcelain edges of the sink as though the steady coolness might anchor her swirling thoughts. Her breath came in slow, deliberate pulls, but her heart thudded against her ribs like thunder—loud, insistent, and impossible to ignore.

"Okay, Jess... this is the first time since Rick..." she murmured to herself, her voice barely more than a breath. Her green eyes shimmered faintly in the fluorescent light, filled with something between disbelief and realization. "Since he passed away... I never thought I'd fall for someone again."

The words trembled in the air, heavy with emotion. She stared harder at the woman looking back at her—like she was seeing herself for the first time in years. There were new lines of strength, of pain endured and survived, but beneath all of it was something startling.

Hope.

"Oh my god..." Her voice cracked. "I'm in love with him."

As soon as the admission left her lips, a jolt rushed through her—equal parts exhilaration and dread. She wasn't ready for this, and yet... here she was, heart already too far gone to deny it.

But then—

"Princess."

Jess's entire body tensed. The voice was like a blade to silk, slicing through her moment of clarity. Her head snapped toward the stalls.

River Dovahkiin, the 2nd Grand Knight of Celtica. The Dragon knight.

River stood with quiet grace, a vision of icy elegance. Her long, blue hair was styled into twin high ponytails, each secured with ornate blue-and-silver clasps adorned with dangling tassels and lotus motifs. The soft shimmer of her hair caught the ambient light, giving her an almost ethereal glow. Intricate dragon-scale markings adorned her cheeks, a striking tribute to her lineage—faintly iridescent and inked in shades of sapphire and frost if they where visable but they where gamuored, hidden.

Her piercing blue dragon slit eyes were framed by long, dark lashes and held a depth that was both ancient and unyielding. They didn't simply look at you—they saw through you.

She wore an exquisite hanfu-inspired robe in shades of soft indigo and silvery periwinkle, layered with fine embroidery of lotus blossoms, celestial constellations, and serpentine motifs. The wide sash at her waist was tied with precise elegance, and her sleeves fluttered slightly with every subtle movement. It was ceremonial, regal—yet practical enough for someone with power coursing through their very being.

Despite the softness of her appearance, there was no mistaking the aura of danger that clung to her like mist on a battlefield. She was not simply a guard—she was a dragon knight.

Jess's irritation flared immediately. She glanced around—empty. Thank Merlin.

"River," she hissed in a sharp whisper, eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you doing here?"

River bowed her head respectfully, her voice calm and unshaken. "Forgive me, Your Highness. But I have come to deliver a message."

Jess folded her arms, her brows pulling into a stern line. "This couldn't wait?"

"Your presence is requested at the Kuran Estate tomorrow Afternoon" River said evenly.

Jess's frown deepened. "Can't this wait until after my—" she hesitated, cheeks flushing ever so slightly, "—date?"

River's lips twitched into the faintest smirk, though she said nothing. It lingered in the air just long enough to be maddening.

Jess sighed, brushing a hand through her braid. "Fine."

But then River's face grew serious.

"Your date," she said, quieter now. "His name is Tom Riddle... the same name once used by the Dark Lord Voldemort before he abandoned it."

Jess stiffened. Her stomach twisted slightly, but her expression didn't falter. Her eyes turned to flint.

"Leave," she ordered sharply, her voice slicing through the air like a dagger. "And do not bring it up again."

River gave a slow nod, the smirk gone, her features unreadable. And without another word, she vanished—disappearing into the shimmer of a cloaking enchantment with the faintest shimmer of magic in her wake.

Alone again, Jess turned back to the mirror. She exhaled shakily, twisting the faucet knob. Cold water spilled into the sink, and she let it run over her hands, cooling her skin and clearing her thoughts. After a moment, she reached into her purse and touched up her blush. Then she slid the silver snake ring Tom had bought her back onto her finger, letting it settle into place like it belonged there.

One final breath.

She turned and stepped out of the restroom.

And there he was.

Tom stood just outside, leaning casually against the wall, his hands in his pockets. The overhead lights cast a soft golden glow over his sharp features. The moment she emerged, his crimson eyes lifted to meet hers—and the tension in her chest softened.

He smiled. Subtle. Real.

Jess returned it with a warmth that reached her eyes as she slipped her arm around his.

"Hi," she said gently.

"Hey," Tom replied, his voice low and smooth. He glanced at his phone, screen lighting up briefly. "It's almost 10. Wanna head out?"

She nodded, giving his arm a light squeeze. "Yeah. Let's go."

And just like that, the world outside River's warning faded to the background. Because tonight—right now—was still theirs.

---

The amazing Hardcore techno song playng during the Gravation ride, Hard Techno Invasion / Rave Techno / Techno by BRTbarrientos!