Grindelwald glanced toward the elderly, round figure nearby and ground his teeth inwardly.
What a waste.
Such a rare and terrifying talent, and she had been whisked away by a Muggle.
Jacob was well over a hundred years old now. Under normal Muggle circumstances, he would long since have been dust in the ground. Fortunately, over the years he had consumed quite a few magical tonics. Physically, he was comparable to a Muggle in his seventies or eighties. His condition was surprisingly decent.
The two old men exchanged polite nods. Jacob then winked at Tom.
"Quite the handsome lad. Almost as good looking as I was in my youth."
Queenie did not hesitate to expose him. "Darling, you already had high blood pressure, high blood sugar, and high cholesterol when I met you. You looked like ten adorable little dumplings stacked together."
"Dear, could you leave me a bit of dignity in front of the children?" Jacob's face fell, wrinkles bunching together dramatically.
"I'm only telling the truth. I fell in love with how adorable you were."
"And I you."
Tom and Fleur exchanged a glance. Both saw the same speechless resignation in each other's eyes.
How had they just been force fed romance by a pair of centenarians?
Fortunately, Queenie and Jacob only indulged briefly before restraining themselves. It was a habit, not a performance. Queenie's gaze drifted over Fleur's tall, graceful figure, her striking beauty and refined temperament. For a moment, it was as if she saw her younger self. The fondness in her eyes deepened.
"Such a good child," she murmured.
But when her eyes met Tom's, she paused.
For the first time in a very long while, her natural Legilimency yielded nothing. It was as if her ability had simply… slipped.
Tom blinked innocently. "If I told you I was born with Occlumency, would you believe me?"
Queenie laughed softly.
She could hardly imagine how Newt had grown so close to a young man whose personality was entirely opposite his own. And yet, there was something undeniably fascinating about Tom.
Mental magic had once been Tom's weak point. He relied mostly on the sheer quality of his soul to brute force resistance. He had never studied it deeply.
That changed after obtaining certain esoteric notes. Mental abilities were among the most universally applicable powers across worlds. With even modest study, Tom's proficiency in both defensive and offensive mental magic had improved dramatically. Queenie's natural gift no longer threatened him.
Dinner itself was simple and warm, an ordinary family gathering. No grand discussions of wizarding politics. Most of the conversation centered on Queenie's complaints about her less than impressive descendants.
None had inherited her Legilimency. Even their magical aptitude was merely passable.
Tina could only sympathize. While a wizard's power often correlated with their parents, it was never guaranteed. If greatness bred greatness unfailingly, pure blood lines would never have declined.
Even her own child…
Yes, the affinity for magical creatures had been inherited from Newt. But in combat? Utterly hopeless.
Tom and Fleur, the younger generation, quietly ate their meal. They responded only when directly addressed. Eventually, they escorted Jacob and Queenie to the gate, bringing the evening to a peaceful close.
...
Late at night, Fleur slipped silently into Tom's room.
She wore a silver silk nightgown that shimmered softly in the moonlight, smooth and luminous against her equally flawless skin.
Tom immediately clutched the blanket to his chest in mock alarm.
"Fleur, don't do this. I'm still a child. No, wait… you're still a child too. Let's wait a few more years."
"What are you thinking, idiot?" Fleur's cheeks flushed pink as she scolded him, though she climbed onto the bed with practiced ease and tugged half the blanket over herself. "I just can't sleep in a new place. I'm used to my own room. I came to talk."
Tom nearly choked on his retort.
You're unfamiliar with your room, but this bed is new to you as well.
You're not attached to the mattress, you're attached to the person.
Wisely, he swallowed the comment and shifted aside, making space. Fleur nestled close, their bodies pressed together beneath the blanket.
"Aunt Queenie and Uncle Jacob have such a beautiful relationship," Fleur said softly. "Seventy years together, and they're still that loving. It's rare."
"It is," Tom agreed. "Queenie kept placing food on Jacob's plate. You didn't even do that for me."
"What kind of ridiculous observation is that? Besides, it's not that I didn't feed you. Your fork kept sneaking onto my plate."
She could not help but laugh. Then her expression grew quiet. She tilted her head upward, gazing at his profile, her long lashes trembling faintly.
"Do you think… we'll be like that someday?"
"Of course," Tom said without hesitation. "We'll be even more affectionate than they are."
"Just the two of us?" she asked softly.
Tom froze.
He forced himself to respond. "Well… strength in numbers?"
"You!"
Fleur pinched him sharply. "It's just the two of us right now. Couldn't you say something sweet to comfort me?"
Tom shook his head firmly. "No. I may be a Slytherin, but in matters of the heart I'm an honest Hufflepuff. There's no point lying to you. If I can lie about this today, I could lie about something else tomorrow."
Fleur fell silent.
He had always been like this. He had never hidden Daphne. Never hidden Hermione. Never pretended otherwise.
If he had lied just now… would she truly have been happier?
The question tangled itself into a knot she could not untie. Frustration flared. She suddenly climbed atop him and began pounding him lightly with her fists.
"You're awful!"
The mock assault gradually softened into playful teasing. In the process, Tom noticed something important.
The back of her silk nightgown was cut open.
Her pale, smooth back gleamed faintly in the moonlight, as if it carried its own radiance.
At last, his restraint snapped.
Under Fleur's bewildered stare, Tom shot off the bed in a blur, grabbed his wand, and began muttering incantations while rummaging through his bag.
"What are you doing?"
"Come here," Tom said seriously. "Lie down. I'm going to give you cupping therapy."