— — — — — —
"Grandma Tina," Tom greeted cheerfully, grinning as he waved. Fleur followed his lead, offering a polite, "Hello, Grandma Tina."
Tina smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, Fleur. Tom talks about you all the time. Welcome to our home."
Then she turned to glare at Tom. "Actually, scratch that. You're with this brat, so just think of this place as your own. No need to be polite."
Tina let out a snort, unable to stop herself from remembering just how complicated Tom's love life was.
They really didn't make men like Newt anymore.
Tom blinked, not entirely sure what he'd done wrong, but the safest response was always to play dumb. He obediently followed Tina as she led them inside.
After chatting for a bit, Tina nodded to herself, quietly pleased with what she saw.
Sure, Fleur's bloodline wasn't ideal in pureblood circles—but her family wasn't insignificant either. The Delacours were an old French house with three centuries of history and no sign of decline. More importantly, the girl was polite and composed, far more mature than most her age.
Truth be told, Tina's views reflected the mainstream of the wizarding world. Most witches and wizards still harbored prejudice toward any kind of mixed blood—even Veela. No matter how beautiful they were, they were still seen as a "taint" on wizarding purity.
Tina didn't object to Fleur dating Tom, but if she had to rank the girls in his life, Fleur definitely wouldn't be first. Oddly enough, she had a good feeling about the Greengrass girl she'd never even met.
Tom, of course, had no idea Tina was mentally arranging his "seating chart." If he did, he'd probably laugh and cry at the same time.
Daphne Greengrass was already turning lazy under his care—always clinging, pouting, acting nothing like the dignified "eldest lady" Tina imagined.
The conversation soon found a natural rhythm.
Because no matter the age, when women got together, gossip was always the universal language. And the juiciest story in the wizarding world right now?
Laos Wilkinson running off with Solen Caruso.
Tom had already given Fleur the rough outline—both Laos and Solen were North American wizards from powerful families. Tina had heard their names before, and once the topic started, the two women hit it off immediately.
Even Tom couldn't resist joining in.
"Didn't the Graves family have a feud with the Carusos before this? This time they didn't just slap each other—they went straight for the throat."
When Tom first heard about it, he thought it was insane. Not liking Frank was one thing; cheating before marriage was cliché but understandable. But eloping with Laos? That was just absurd.
Laos had wanted to stay in Britain, thinking he'd be safe here—that the North American families couldn't reach across the ocean. But Tom had still advised him to get as far away as possible. The guy was a magnet for trouble, and Tom didn't want to deal with the fallout.
Maybe next term he'd ask Lupin to take over teaching duties. At least Lupin was the quiet, dependable type.
"How could they not fight?" Tina gave Tom a knowing look, then leaned forward, clearly enjoying herself. "It almost turned into a duel. They say thirty or forty wizards had their wands drawn before the Magical Congress sent in mediators. Otherwise, we'd have had bodies lying in the street and a few more buried underground."
"But after the heads of both families handed over their wands, they went into a bedroom, talked for half an hour, and came out like best friends."
"They made up?" Fleur's voice shot up in disbelief. "How? Did someone use the Imperius Curse?"
"Silly girl," Tina laughed, patting her hand. "The Aurors from the Congress checked. No signs of mind control or potion use. They really did just… settle things."
"How?" Tom asked, raising a brow.
"Simple," Tina said. "Solen Caruso's cousin got engaged—no, actually married—to Frank Graves. There were a few financial settlements too, but the key thing was that they kicked Solen out of the Caruso family."
Tom nodded. "That explains it."
In wizarding society, expulsion from the family was serious business—an unmistakable punishment. Even Voldemort had respected that boundary.
Sirius Black had openly defied him, yet because the Black family had officially disowned him, Voldemort hadn't retaliated against them. He'd even treated Sirius's brother as a trusted follower.
So even if the Graves were furious, they'd only target Solen now—not the entire Caruso clan.
"What about the Wilkinsons?" Tom asked, thinking of Laos's family. "They just stood by and watched?"
Tina shook her head. "Aside from the two Aurors working at the Ministry, the rest ran off to the west coast. The Graves won't touch Ministry employees, and they can't find the others. So for now, they're just stewing."
Tom clicked his tongue. "Figures. The whole family's got that same chaotic energy as Laos."
By the time the gossip died down, everyone was smiling. Tina took Fleur upstairs to prepare the guest room while Tom headed to his own to take a much-needed nap.
He didn't come back down until dinner.
Rolf was still in Britain with his parents, and Newt was traveling back with his Panda, so only Tina was home. But she'd invited her sister's family over for the evening meal.
And this was Tom's first time meeting Queenie Goldstein—the natural-born Legilimens.
Like Tina, age hadn't dimmed her beauty. If anything, the years had only added grace and a soft, wistful charm. Compared to Tina's fiery temper, Queenie seemed gentler, almost fragile.
"Hello, Grandma Queenie. Grandpa Jacob." Tom greeted them respectfully, with Fleur by his side.
He even let Grindelwald out to say hello to some old acquaintances.
For once, the old dark wizard didn't start spewing insults the way he did with Newt. He just looked complicated, nostalgic even.
He had admired Queenie's gift back in the day. Her ability to read minds was terrifyingly precise—a perfect tool for rooting out spies and gauging loyalty.
And yet… a Muggle had stolen her away.
Grindelwald's jaw tightened as he glanced at the portly old man sitting beside her.
Jacob Kowalski was over a hundred now. For an ordinary Muggle, that would've meant death long ago. But years of magical tonics had kept him spry—his body like that of a man in his seventies.
Both elders smiled kindly at Tom. Jacob even winked. "Handsome kid. You're almost as good-looking as I was back in my day."
Queenie snorted. "Darling, you already had high blood pressure, high sugar, and high cholesterol when you were young. When I met you, you were a walking butterball."
"Sweetheart, could you not say that in front of the kids?" Jacob's face crumpled into wrinkles of despair.
"I'm only telling the truth. That's exactly why I loved you—you were adorable."
"And I still am."
Tom and Fleur exchanged glances. Both looked equally helpless.
Getting force-fed a serving of affection from two centenarian lovebirds was not how they'd expected the night to go.
Thankfully, Queenie and Jacob's little display of lovey-dovey affection didn't last long. It was clearly just habit at this point, and they soon composed themselves again. Queenie, though, couldn't help giving Fleur an approving once-over. The girl's slim figure, poise, and natural beauty reminded her of her own younger self. Her expression softened, and she nodded repeatedly.
"What a lovely girl," she murmured. "Such a lovely girl."
Then her gaze met Tom's—and she froze for a moment. Her Legilimency, that instinctive mind-reading gift she couldn't switch off even if she tried, came up blank. No surface thoughts. No flickers of emotion. Nothing. It was like her ability had hit a wall.
Tom blinked innocently. "If I told you I was born with Occlumency, would you believe me?"
Queenie couldn't help laughing.
It amazed her that Newt, of all people, had gotten so close with someone so different in temperament. But she had to admit, the boy was interesting.
In truth, Tom had always been weak in the field of mental magic. His strength came from the sheer density of his soul, not from study or technique. But ever since he'd gotten that notebook from the mysterious "Mr. K," things had changed. Mental disciplines—defense, intrusion, manipulation—were universal across worlds. With even a little study, he'd made huge progress. Now, he no longer flinched before a natural-born Legilimens like Queenie.
...
Dinner itself was ordinary—a warm, unpretentious family meal. No talk of the wizarding world's politics or dark rumors. Mostly it was Queenie complaining about her disappointing grandchildren. Not one had inherited her mind-reading gift, and even their basic magical talent was, in her words, "a tragic downgrade."
Tina didn't say much. She knew that wasn't unusual. Magical ability wasn't always inherited evenly—if it were, purebloods wouldn't be fading out. Even her own kids… well, they'd inherited Newt's gift for magical creatures, but in combat magic? Absolutely hopeless.
Tom and Fleur just listened quietly, chiming in now and then when they were mentioned. Eventually, they walked Queenie and Jacob to the door, said their goodbyes, and the gathering came to a close.
That night, long after everyone had gone to bed, Fleur tiptoed into Tom's room. She wore a silver silk nightdress that shimmered softly in the dim light, smooth and sleek as her own skin.
Tom's grip on the blanket tightened in alarm. "Fleur, don't do this. I'm still a kid… wait, no, you're still a kid too! Let's… maybe wait a few years?"
Fleur's cheeks flushed pink. "What are you thinking, you pervert!" she hissed, half scolding, half flustered. She climbed into bed anyway, snatching half the blanket from him. "I can't sleep in that room—it's not comfortable. I just came to talk."
Tom blinked. 'You can't sleep in that bed, but you can in mine? It's new too, you know.'
No, this wasn't "recognizing the bed." This was recognizing the person.
He wanted to say it, but wisely kept his mouth shut and shifted over to make space. Fleur nestled in beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
"Queenie and Jacob are amazing," she said softly, a note of admiration in her voice. "Seventy years together, and they still look at each other like that. It's so rare."
"Yeah," Tom said seriously. "Queenie even kept putting food on Jacob's plate. You didn't give me a single bite."
She rolled her eyes. "That's what you noticed? And whose fork was stealing food off my plate the whole time?"
He gave a sheepish grin. Fleur's mock glare softened, and after a quiet pause she lifted her gaze to his face. Her long lashes fluttered slightly.
"Do you think… we'll be like them one day?" she whispered.
"Of course," Tom said without hesitation. "We'll be even happier than they are."
Her lips curved faintly. "Just us?"
Tom froze for a beat. "…Well, you know what they say—strength in numbers."
"You—!" Fleur's face flared red. She pinched his arm hard. "It's just us right now, can't you say something nice for once?"
Tom shook his head firmly. "Nope. I might be a Slytherin, but when it comes to feelings, I'm an honest Hufflepuff. Lying to you would be pointless. If I start lying now, it'll just make it easier to lie again later."
Fleur fell silent.
He wasn't wrong. He'd always been upfront—about everything. About Daphne, about Hermione. He'd never hidden anything from her.
But would it really make her happier if he lied, just to soothe her?
The thought left her tangled up and frustrated. No matter what answer she got, she'd still end up unhappy.
So, in classic Fleur fashion, she chose violence. She straddled him and started pounding on his chest with her small fists. "You're the worst!"
It didn't take long for her frustration to melt into laughter.
.
.
.