Snapshots of June

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"Walburga, who is LV?"

The eldest Black daughter lifted her head from her book. She sat in the parlor of Grimmauld Place. Her younger brother Cygnus was home from Hogwarts for the summer, and he had begged her to spend as much time with him as possible before he went back in September.

Walburga glanced at him absentmindedly. "What are you on about, Ciggy?"

He held up a cream-colored parchment. "This envelope came today. It was a serpent with red eyes and then transformed into a letter."

Walburga's eyes widened to the size of saucers. She tossed her book aside and shot to her feet, snatching the parchment from his hand.

She recognized the sharp, spiky penmanship instantly. Her blood ran cold.

My dearest Ciggy,

Please inform your sister that her recent actions have caught my attention.

I am merciful enough to issue this word of caution before any corrective measures are taken.

It will not be your sister who pays the price for her continued interference.

Sincerely,

LV

Walburga's veins were like ice. She gazed at her young brother and swallowed.

"Who is LV? What does it mean?"

She shook her head as she folded the letter, attempting to calm her racing heart. "Nothing, Ciggy. Come, I'll take you for ice cream."


June 15, 1948

Every eye turned on Hermione when she walked into The Daily Prophet this morning. In the few months she'd been a columnist at the paper, she had become something of a legend. Several of the younger writers looked up to her, while many of the elder writers were quite resentful of her resounding success. They bitterly attributed her attainments to nepotism, believing it was the name of her infamous Father which had led to her inexplicable promotion.

Hermione didn't care what they thought or believed. She had a job to do; a purpose. She had not ceased to write her articles pointing out the injustices and prejudices that pervaded the wizarding world. To her surprise, Riddle had not made any attempt to stop her. He had not owled, nor stopped by her flat or her work. He'd made no attempt to contact her since the night they had kissed.

It made her nervous.

Part of her wondered if he'd forgotten about her, or if his anger at her refusal to comply with his wishes had infuriated him to the point that he no longer wished to see her. Or perhaps, she'd been right. Perhaps their little "date" had been nothing more than an attempt to convince her to stop writing, and when he'd realized she would not comply, he'd given up contact. Her mind had touched upon all of these possibilities, but deep within herself, she knew that none of them were the truth.

She wasn't sure what the truth was, but she had the distant feeling that he was planning something.

She hoped desperately that her intuition was wrong.

It had been exactly one month since Tom had kissed her in front of the cottage in Godric's Hollow. Since then, Hermione had avoided Riddle like the plague. Abraxas had owled her several times, reminding her of her promise to make use of his library for her research and inviting her to various events, even asking her over for tea a few times. In truth, the library was magnificent and would be perfect for working on her articles, but she hadn't wanted to run the risk of running into Riddle there. She felt bad for rejecting Malfoy's many invitations and entreaties, and she knew that she would have to accept soon to avoid seeming rude.

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