THREE MONTHS LATER

Thomas Shelby's P.O.V

The three fingers of rum gave a pleasant warmth in Tommy Shelby's throat as he downed the rest of his drink, perched on a stool at the very end of the Garrison's bar, a lit cigarette dangling from his index and pointer finger of his right hand. When the glass clinked against the wooden countertop of the bar, all he had to do was simply tap twice next to it before Fenton caught on, nodded, put away the rag he was using to clean the glasses in the pocket of his apron and pluck up a bottle for a refill of Tommy's drink.

It had been about four, five weeks since he had seen the bartender he had mentally nicknamed 'Red'. Either the girl had grown smart and left Small Heath like he had warned her to, she was now avoiding him at all costs, another smart move on her part, or, as Tommy believed was more likely, Fenton and the woman... A Marcy... Mercy, Merry? Something like that, had been ushering the girl away when either he or his 'colleagues' paid a visit. Why believe the latter? From what he had seen of red, even the very minimum they had interacted, she was a loud-mouthed, stubborn, fiery-tempered thing. So, yes, he doubted she was hiding her face by her own accord.

Tommy's lips curled as he brought his now filled glass to his mouth. Either way, it didn't matter, did it? It was another problem out of the way. At least, that is what he kept telling himself. Especially when he found himself frequenting this place more than he normally would, and that was saying something, or when his eyes swooped the premises for a flash of vibrant red upon entering. Something was... Different with the woman. Something... Hot and bright. Star-esque. Burning and scorching those who ventured too close. Perhaps he had imagined that feeling. Perhaps it had simply been too long since someone had stood up and told him no, let alone slam a window on him, shout, snarl and practically spit in his face the way she had. It had been a... New experience and Tommy liked new experiences. That was all.

Just as his glass made a touchdown for the second time on the counter-top, the doors of the Garrison slammed open, banging against the wooden door frame. Shouts rang out from the patrons, confusion at first, morphing to anger and then finally settling on a sort of muted horror. Ditching his half smoked cig in the ashtray, Tommy swiveled around to the door, almost wincing when he spotted the source of all the commotion. It must have been a Tuesday.

Danny Whizz-bang stood in the middle of the entry-way, hammer in one hand, broken chair leg in the other. His stance was off balance, shaky, unstable. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, glazed and hazy. Scrapes and cuts glittered on his face, swelling and bleeding, telling Tommy this wasn't his first stop since the beginning of his episode. Danny lifted the chair leg in his hand and was about to start swinging by the time Tommy had staggered to a stand and Fenton had made it over the bar. Luckily, or unluckily if you viewed it from a certain angle, before Danny could clock an old minor from the factory across his balding and weathered head, something tackled him from behind, sending the two sprawling to the floor.

The crowd pushed back, trying to get away from the tussle, but that only left more room for Fenton and Tommy to make a dash towards the two on the floor. By the time the two skidded to a stop in front of the mass, things had quieted enough for Tommy to hear a hushed voice. Soft. Warm. Gentle, like a mother brushing the hair away from your forehead. Danny's voice could only croon and croak back.

"You're okay. You're in the Garrison. Remember the Garrison? Say it with me, you're safe. You're in the Garrison. You're safe. You're in the Garrison."

"Safe... Gar-... Garrison. Safe. Garrison... Safe. I'm safe... I'm safe."

Danny's voice broke off into a blistering sob, wracks and heaves shaking his chest... The chest his assailant was currently sitting on. The person was small, curvy, pale even in the sunshine. Dressed in a baggy white shirt, no shoes and men's fawn coloured trousers, Tommy was hard pressed to say who exactly it was, until he took notice of the soaking wet hair that trailed off their back, shielding their face from the way they were hunched over. Even as wet as it was, it was not tough to delegate exactly who that fierce red locks belonged to.

Harry.

"I'm going to let you up now... You're safe, keep saying it, okay? Safe. You're safe now... Now, come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Slowly, like an unfurling spider slipping from its web, Harry moved her one foot that was being used to pin down his hand with the hammer, followed by the knee used to trap the arm with the chair leg. Then she slowly, like a cautious animal trying to cross a busy road, heaved herself off Danny's chest, backing off to give him just enough space to breathe, but keeping close enough should he slip back into the darkness of his own mind, she could leap back into action.

Thankfully, he was still whispering that he was safe and seemed compliant enough to be urged to a stand, although he nearly toppled Harry and squashed her when he leant too heavily on her smaller frame. With pottering, stilted steps, Harry began leading Danny towards the back room, the back room where Tommy often 'conducted' business. Over her shoulder, she spied Fenton, shot him a quick smile and spoke over the noise of the quickly returning to normal pub inhabitants. After all, it wasn't like it was the first time they had played witness to Danny's... 'memory shifts'.

"Can you bring two bottles of strong, and I mean strong, alcohol to the back room Fen? Cheers. Oh, a rag and a glass too."

Fenton hit right back with a confused frown.

"Two?"

From the corner of his eye, Tommy could see the other woman, the one Fenton liked... Molly? Hop from one foot to the other, standing in the open doorway to the pub. Ah, the two of them must have been out and arrived just in time to see the afternoon show. However... Merry, he was pretty sure it was Merry, was bone dry. Harry's retreating voice cut through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter.

"One for cleaning and one for drinking!"

Before Harry and Danny could fully slip into the back room, Merry's stuttering voice brokered through the air.

"A-a-a-are you... You sure you're safe in t-there with... With him after what he-he just did?"

Just as Tommy had remembered that heat, the burn, the crackling temper, it was odd to see it aimed at someone other than him.

"It is not his fault!"

Merry took a step back, a step away, her face falling and only then, when Harry noticed the reaction, did her own temper die down to a cindering log. From the looks of it, Tommy thought this Merry wasn't used to being on the receiving end of Harry's anger, though she did seem skittish enough to have been around someone's anger before. Harry gave a fractured, pained smile as she spoke as if she was whispering a lullaby to a teething babe.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just isn't his fault, okay? The door will be open, I'll be just in here, everything's fine Merry. Tell you what, why don't you get me and him one of those tarts you make so well? They always brighten up my day."

It was almost like someone had flipped a switch in the older woman as she brightened, hastily nodded and with a muted 'on it' dashed for the kitchens around back. Then the two were gone, eaten by the shaded room and lost in the bustle of the pub. Glancing over his shoulder, Tommy eyed up his glass on the bar, debating his next move. However, his curiosity proved too strong as he sighed, slipped a hand into his jackets inner pocket, plucked out his smokes and lit up a cig before sauntering to the open doorway of the back room, leaning in the entryway by his shoulder, legs crossed, plumes of smoke hazing the air around his face.

The two were sitting next to each other in the booth, Harry running a leisurely hand up and down Danny's arm as he whispered the same mantra he had been since Harry's arrival, under his breath. With one last exhale, Tommy piped up.

"What? Not got a hello for me, Red?"

Harry sliced him a glare from lowered lids. The action only made Tommy smile, and her following words only bloomed that upturn of lips into a fully grown grin.

"Fenton told me if I have nothing nice to say to you, don't say anything. Please don't test me on my word. I'd rather not break it."

Any retort Tommy had died when Fenton hustled passed him, dropping the two bottles of drink, a rag and two glasses in front a still dripping Harry. Finally, Harry let go of Danny to wearily pick up the two bottles, gaze flickering between the two before she half-hazardously shrugged, cracked open the Vodka, doused the rag in the clear liquid, then filled a single glass with rum and handed the bottle of rum over to Danny. Danny's grasp violently shook as he took it, taking a hearty sip from the bottle, keeping it on hand.

Harry downed her own drink in one swift go before bringing the rag close to Danny's face, slowly pressing it against his bleeding cuts and scrapes across his cheekbone. Danny said nothing, didn't even wince, he never did after an episode. Fenton's incredulous voice was the only thing to shatter the oppressive silence.

"Harry... Why are you sopping wet?... and wearing no shoes?!"

Harry grinned but didn't take her eyes off the task at hand.

"Took a little dip and swim."

Both Tommy and Fenton frowned, but it was Fenton once again left to verbalize his thoughts.

"There are no public baths or swimming pools in Small Heath... And those are not the clothes you left in..."

A voice picked up from behind Tommy as Merry tottered into the room, holding a tray of what looked like jam tarts, which once placed on the table, Harry dived straight for, handing one to Danny almost reluctantly. She had a sweet tooth then...

"That's because she fell into the canals around back. She thought she could run across the railings of the bridge... She couldn't. Fell right in, nearly got ran over by a barge and then when she finally managed to drag herself out of the canal, she decided to hop a fence and steal some clothes off a washing line. Only, halfway through getting changed, the man of the home spotted her and unleashed his brood of dash hounds, forcing us to try and leg it less we lose a limb, all the while Harry could only laugh. This is the last time I let you pick our walking route Harry, last time it was the crazy barber with his broom and scissors, now these dogs..."

Harry, in turn, looked cheekily affronted, if such a look was possible, as she popped the last bite of her tart in her mouth, re-dousing the rag in Vodka as she went back to work on Danny's face.

"Brood? Merry, it was three... Four, tops. That's not a brood of dogs. And at least you didn't have to try and run while pulling up your trousers. And, might I add, it wasn't me cackling away when said man of the house tried to make haste after us and fell into a pile of his own dogs, dog shit, was it?"

Merry turned a blazing red as she stuttered and spluttered, only making Harry chuckle harder at the woman's expense. Fenton, who had taken pity on the blushing woman, leaned over and placed a gentle hand on Merry's shoulder, tugging her towards the door.

"Can you help me in the bar Merry, people will be lining up by now."

Merope smiled and nodded, eyes large and wide as she looked up to Fenton before quickly sending Harry a limp wave as a goodbye. Harry winked back before the pair left. Mmmmm, seemed to Tommy Fenton wasn't alone in his feelings for Merry by the way she gazed at him back. Harry, however, went back to cleaning, keeping her back towards him. Tommy only flicked the butt of his cig in the ashtray on the table, but stayed adamantly in place.

This, of course, seemed to irk the red-head by the way her shoulders tensed and squared. after all, she didn't even bother to look in his general direction when she spoke.

"Are you really going to just stand there and watch, or actually do something useful?"

Tommy kicked off from the door frame, walking into the room a step or two, hands diving into the pockets of his trousers as he eyed the back of Harry.

"Depends on what you count as useful?"

He heard her sigh, deeply, exhaustedly, as if it was taking everything she had not to bite back the way she wanted to. For some strange, unfathomable reason, this made Tommy want to laugh. Actual, god-given laughter. It also made him want to push her just a little bit more until she did let loose.

"Pour me a drink, will you? I need it if I have to put up with your presence."

Even as he spoke a rebuttal, Tommy obliged, going towards the table to pour her some rum, pulling the other unused glass over to pour himself a shot or two.

"I think the man you just robbed needs it more than you do."

Even before he finished speaking, Harry was scoffing at him, blindly reaching behind her to pick up her glass and drink from it as she began on the last cut on Danny's forehead.

"Have a heart, I've just nearly been mauled by a pack of wild dogs. What more do you want? And hey, he has my blouse and skirt, doesn't he? Looks like both of us will be cross-dressing today. There all done."

Harry dropped the wet rag with a plop onto the table, dusting her hands off on her trousers. Danny smiled at her, shakily, still not fully back in the present but at least calm now, as he went to leave. However, before he stood up and left, he reached out and squeezed her hand. Harry squeezed back before she let him go. It seemed both Harry and Tommy knew now that what was best for him was some alone time and a good nap. Harry downed the rest of her drink and went to leave, but with one smooth step, Tommy was in front of her and subsequently blocking her only exit.

"Have another drink."

The fire in her eyes blazed emerald green as she scowled at him, meeting his ice head-on, barely holding back the scoff that obviously wanted to break loose from her pursed lips.

"I've just been attacked by dogs and forced to run halfway across Birmingham-"

"Exactly. Count it as a victory drink against the evil mutts that nearly ended your existence."

Slowly, Tommy stepped out of her way, giving her the option to leave if she wanted to. He didn't think she would, he had an inkling she was a bit too much like him, too curious for their own good. Her slap back didn't disappoint.

"And what will your drink be? A sorrowful one that the 'evil mutts' didn't finish the job for you?"

Tommy smiled a slick grin, picked up a glass, filled it and handed it to Harry, who reluctantly took it, as he sat down in the booth. Crossing his legs and filling his own drink up, taking a sip, he cocked a brow at her.

"What you did then... for Danny... It was... Nice... Of you."

Harry... Laughed. And she laughed hard. The sound was as bright and flaringly warm as her temperament, like steam rising from magma.

"That actually pained you to say, didn't it? A compliment from the Thomas Shelby... Who would have thought."

Just as it had been Harry's turn to laugh, it was now Tommy's to scowl harshly at her.

"Don't get used to it. You're a loudmouth, foul... Imp of a woman who doesn't know when not to light a match."

Harry still chuckled as she held her glass out towards him in a mockery of a cheer as she took a deep drink.

"Now there's the Tommy-boy I know. The blunt, cold cunt who couldn't care less about anybody else. Couldn't keep up the nice act, could you?"

Tommy very nearly snarled at her. Perhaps by the twinkle of victory in her eye, he actually did.

"And you just can't keep your knife of a tongue from cutting, can you? Perhaps I'm not the only 'cunt' in this room."

Harry glared from hooded, blazing eyes, the curls around her face drying and twirling around her heart-shaped face, framing, the twinkle of victory long gone. Downing the rest of her drink, she leant over, slammed the empty glass on the table and straightened out.

"Well, this has been nice and all... Who am I kidding? I would have rather the dogs had chewed my left leg clean off, but it's been an experience... An experience I'm ending right now. Evening, Mr. Shelby. Don't get backed kicked in the head by one of your horses, now that would be a real shame."

Harry sounded like that would be anything but a shame. Before she could fully leave, Tommy's voice echoed behind her. He couldn't help it. He needed to know. Had to. It was a puzzle, a pretty little thing like her, how could she have possibly understood? How could she have known what to do?

"How did you know? How did you calm him so fast?"

They both knew who he was speaking of. Danny. Still, it took a long stretch of silence before Harry answered him, glancing over her shoulder at him. It took her even longer to find the right words.

"I've seen it before... Too many times. It's... It's not their fault. What they've seen... What they've had to do... It traps them. Makes them relive it. Over and over and over... And over. You just have to... Bring them back into the present. Remind them they're alive. They're breathing... It's the only thing you can do."

For once, since speaking to her, Harry's voice is soft, silken, but so melancholy. It doesn't sound like she's speaking of seeing such a thing before, no. But like she knew exactly how Danny felt... How Tommy felt in the twilight hours when he heard the cries, the bombs, smelled the wet dirt so clearly, he was back in that tunnel. But how could she know? She looked like she belonged more on a lords estate than a battlefield. His tongue was moving before he could stop it.

"From what you've... Seen, does it ever go away? Does it ever end?"

She smiled a dead thing then, small, sad, broken. Tommy... Tommy never wanted to see a smile like it again. Especially on someone as bright and fiery as Harry. He almost thought he was looking at a dying star.

"Does the wheel ever stop turning? Funny thing about life, you can mold the future, influence the present... But you cant wipe the past clean. Not in our memories at least. The cries, the pain, the fear and horror... It's in ou-... Their heads... And just because it's in your head, doesn't mean it isn't real. Does it ever end? Does the wheel ever stop turning? I don't have an answer."

Harry turned back around and Tommy shot one last remark at her retreating back. Or, he had thought it would be his last remark, at least for today.

"You might want to get changed, I think you're getting a cold or flu with how... pleasantly less vindictive you've been."

Of course, Harry had to swing back. There was no quitting or rolling with the punches with this woman it seemed.

"No, its the rum going to your head. It's lessening you from complete cunt to a plain ol' bastard."

"So now there's a hierarchy of insults? A cunt is worse than a bastard?"

She'd disappeared from sight around the corner, but over the sound of the pub outside the room, Tommy could hear her tinkling laugh and taunting words sang in a lilt.

"Hey, I don't make the rules, I just live by them."

Tommy doubted that so very much. From what he had seen of Harry, heard of her from the streets, the way she spoke, acted... Smiled so brightly without constraint, fear or camouflage, he refused to believe any rules, physics, life, could bound a spirit like hers. Harry lived outside the norm, the rules... Just like he did. They were... kindred spirits in a way. Tommy downed his own drink, the thought hot and heavy on his mind as he left the pub. Bloody imp was right.

TWO DAYS LATER

Harry Potter's P.O.V

Harry tugged her coat tighter around her form as she made her way down the early morning street, securely wrapping her arms around her waist to keep the biting chill of the air from piercing her clothes as much as possible. She was tired, achy, cold but also strangely good for someone who was running on three hours of sleep a night and was currently traipsing down to their job at quarter to five in the morning.

It had been two and a half months since Harry had arrived in this time... Actually, nearly three and things had been going good. Almost too good. The kind of good that left Harry on the edge of her seat, just waiting for when the proverbial shit hit the imaginary fan. However, no 'shit' had come sailing towards her head and it felt... Nice.

Merope was doing good, brilliant even. Every day brought the down-trodden woman more out of her shell. Only yesterday did Merope actually join in with the banter, calling Harry a cretin when she had swapped the older woman's sugar with salt in her morning cup of tea. Of course, she had later gone red, stumbled through a hasty apology, which Harry brushed off with a simple explanation that it was about time Merope started standing up for herself. Harry had been awarded a smile and a shaky nod.

Merope had also started branching out with making friendships that weren't based on or around Harry. She had begun talking to a cleaning lady down the road in the afternoons on her lunch break. She baked cookies for the mail boy that came excitedly to their door every morning. And her relationship with Fenton had only solidified. Dammit, in the past week Merope had even started venturing outside the house by herself, without Harry or Fenton. Even if it had only been a quick half hour trip down to the road, knowing how anxious Merope had and was with being around muggles alone, Harry had never been prouder of a person when Merry had come stumbling back into the Garrison, punt of milk in one hand, happy blush dusting her cheeks, highlighting her wide grin.

Harry herself was doing well. When she had a spare half hour, which was rare, you would find her with Freddie playing pool, or on the streets playing cards with the orphans that haunted the streets. Of course, that was after she finished helping Bubbe in the bakery, taking shifts in the Garrison to give Fenton and Merope a break, taking food out to the orphans, magicking blankets and clothes for them or buying them from her small wage in the bakery, or hiding at their little squat of a house in the dead of the night, creating or strengthening the wards she had placed around the house to keep them safe. However, she couldn't and wouldn't complain. not when she had people, real people, who she had come to care for, against the odds. When there were people who she actually looked forward to seeing and speaking to. And the work was never a problem with Harry, she was used to working, dashing around the place, forever busy. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had beat that into her.

In retrospect, there were only two things she could grumble about. The three hours of sleep she got a night from all the shifts and work she was doing and the last, and most important, was skin wrapped and called himself 'Thomas Shelby'. Harry just didn't know what to think or... Feel about him. He was like a human ping-pong ball. One moment she wanted to see him melt in a blast of Incendio, the next she was actually debating with herself if he was actually that bad of a person... Until he opened his mouth again. Harry simply couldn't pin him down, and boy, did that irk her. She pinned everyone down. Her innate sense of who a person was, was something she prided herself on. Yet, Tommy Shelby came along and threw her radar right out the bloody window as if it meant nothing.

What gave him the fucking right?

And while she was at it, how the fuck did he get cheekbones that sharp? Harry shook her head mindlessly. She was getting off point. The crux of the issue was the blue-eyed bastard was becoming a problem. A bane. A prickly fucking thorn, that if it wasn't careful Harry would have to pluck off the damned rose. He was observant, too observant. Smart. Quick. One slip and Harry didn't doubt he would figure something out, and it wasn't only her arse on the line, Merope's was too, and she couldn't let anybody place that sort of danger in Merry's direction, not while she was still so fragile.

Harry wasn't dumb, after her little run-in with him two days ago, with Danny, she knew he knew she wasn't all she seemed. And that glint of curiosity that sparkled in his eyes as she had left the room? Yeah, that sounded like a death knoll alright. So, while she had to walk a tight line, keep her head down for Merope's sake, she also couldn't let sir fucking Shelby play whatever games he was cooking in that quick mind of his. In an odd way, she may have respected him, liked him even, if he wasn't currently making her life ten times harder than it needed to be. And, in turn, making Merope's life harder. That was something she couldn't let past her.

Harry shook off the gloomy, doomy, melancholy thoughts out of her head as she reached Bubbe's bakery, painting a smile on her face as the door gleefully jingled as she entered, shouting out her greeting as she hung her coat up in the hallway.

"Hey, Bubbe! It's just me, Har-"

Harry cut herself off as she came around the corner into the main room of the bakery, seeing the table where Bubbe and she would eat their lunch at. Normally, Bubbe would have been up for about fifteen minutes now, just long enough to put the kettle on and set up some breakfast at the table, which Harry would help complete. Bubbe would still be in her nighty, wrapped snuggly in her dressing gown, slippers still on her feet, stove on to heat up and a few gas lamps to keep the dwindling darkness at bay.

However, that was not the greeting Harry had gotten this morning and all too quickly, Harry knew, just knew, it really had been going too good. Bubbe was sitting at the table, the kettle was in place... Three cups in place. That was where any similarity ended. Bubbe was fully dressed, hat and shoes and all, coat slung over the back of her chair. Instead of porridge, a full array of baked goods let their aromatic smell fill the air in little puffs of steam. Across from her sat a man. Tall, lanky, dark hair, clean shaven, kippah securely pinned to the back of his head.

Harry, of course, froze. Bubbe either didn't care or notice, as she smiled brightly, bubbly speaking in a bright, cheerful voice.

"Oh, just the person we're waiting for! Come, come, sit! Have a hot drink. Harry, this is Ollie, Ollie, this is the girl I was telling you about, Harry."

Harry forced another smile to her face, nodding and blinking slightly, even though she had no idea who this was or what was going on. In the entire two, three months she had been working here, Bubbe had no visitors. No guests. No one. So, yes, seeing a strange man sitting in her spot at the table did throw her off her game a little. Harry made her way over, holding out her hand towards the man... Ollie.

"Erm, nice to meet you, Ollie. I hope it's only been good words?"

Thankfully, her tongue still worked, even if her mind had momentarily stalled in the ignition. Ollie frowned slightly before the creases eased out and he gave her a friendly, warm smile, taking her hand in his large one, giving it a gentle shake before relinquishing his hold. Harry took that as her cue to sit down, which she did, nodding her thanks to Bubbe as the elderly lady pushed over a steaming cup of tea in her direction.

"Oh, only the best. Although... We were under the assumption you were more... Masculine..."

His voice was soft, a bit too soft in Harry's books, but he seemed nice enough. Placid, friendly, a bit shy by the blush blossoming on his cheeks. However, Bubbe only laughed when she seemed to notice the redness creeping up on Ollie's face. Harry's confusion only climbed higher, not only for being mistaken for a boy by a man she had never met, but more pressingly, by the pleasant twinkle currently sparkling in Bubbe's hooded eye's... Almost as if she was pleased that Harry had been mistaken for the wrong gender, then, all too suddenly, Harry clocked on to what he really said. We. Not I. We.

"We?"

Harry took a sip of her tea, sighing in pleasure. Splash of milk, two sugars, strong. Just the way she liked it. Bubbe knew her too well. Ollie seemed to bluster more, the pink becoming a scarlet that started descending his neck and into his collar as he spluttered into his own cup and blinked rapidly.

"Oh, right, sorry. Mr. Solomon... Alfie, he's, ugh, Rania's nephew. He's excited to meet you after what Rania has told him what you've been doing for her."

Ah, that made a... Sort of sense. Bubbe must have told her nephew that she had someone helping out around the shop, perhaps even how the met in the first place, mentioned the name Harry and the obvious conclusion had been, well, concluded. It wasn't the first time and Harry doubted it would be the last. Harry was typically a guys name. Back in primary school, with her hair cut short and dressed in Dudley's hand me downs, everyone had thought she was a boy. Even that one time she had gone to the hospital, after she had 'accidentally' broken her arm after 'playing' with Dudley and his friends, the doctor had not believed she had been a girl until he had checked her medical records. A harmless mistake. Harry's smile finally turned real, but instead of placating Ollie like she had wanted it too, it seemed to have choked him as he started spluttering again. Dammit, Harry wasn't built for social interaction.

"Oh, well, if he's anything like Bubbe here, I'll be glad to meet him too. And to be completely fair, Harry is more of a man's name than a woman's... So, is he visiting today too?"

Finally, Ollie seemed to gain his bearings, but the blush never left his poor face.

"Umm... Visiting?"

Harry gave a slow nod as she bewildering shot a glance at Bubbe, who only grinned deeper. Harry... Harry didn't like that grin. It spoke all too much of 'I know something you don't know'.

"Well, yes. I mean... How else am I going to meet him?"

Ollie placed his cup down on the knitted coaster, turning to face Bubbe head-on, voice pitched a little too high, cracking slightly in the middle of his sentence.

"You... You haven't told her about... You haven't asked her to come when you've told Alfie-..."

Bubbe placed her own cup down, waving her hand in front of her face as if she smelled something bad, nose crinkling too. Harry didn't like where this was going, not one bit.

"Baahhh. It's already set up. The bags are packed and Rosh Hashanah is well on its way."

Harry finally joined the pair in putting her cup down, now wishing it was filled with something a little stronger than tea, as she dazedly shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I'm confused. Packed bags? Asking me what? Told me what? Roshy what now?"

Bubbe kindly smiled at her, folding her hands in her lap. While she knew a bit of Yiddish, a few sparse words Bubbe had taught her, she was still mostly lost on that front.

"Rosh Hashanah, Harry dear. It's Jewish new year. We celebrate it over the week, with family and those dearest to you. You're my little eyniklekh, by blood or not, I refuse to celebrate it without you. You'll love it. There are sweets and candles and those pastries you love so much-"

Harry shook her head again, swearing she had dropped down a rabbit hole or Bubbe had gone and spiked her tea with some strange mushroom. What in the name of Merlin was going on? New year? Nephews? What had this got to do with her?

"I... I still don't see how any of this links up?"

Bubbe opened her mouth to speak but Ollie beat her to the punchline.

"Well, you see, Rania here... Told Alfie about you, of course, she left out the fact you were... Well, a woman and not the man we thought you were, and you see Rosh Hashanah is coming soon and every year Rania comes to Camden to celebrate with her family, only this year she's refused to come unless Alfie made room for you and well, Alfie saw no harm in it and so now-"

Bubbe threw her spindly arms out wide, almost as if she was throwing imaginary confetti.

"Now we're going to London for a week, two weeks to celebrate Rosh Hashanah! The bags are packed, the cars ready, all you need to do is have a hot drink and good food for the road and then we'll be on our way. Oh, you really will love it Harry-"

Harry panicked and she panicked hard.

"I-... I can't just leave! What about the bakery? The Garrison... Merope! I can't just leave Merry behind! And..."

Then, as if summoning an angel by name, Merope's own voice blistered out from the shadowy doorway of the kitchen. She must have come through the back door. Glancing up and over, Harry could just about make her out. She was wrapped up warmly, smiling and... Holding a battered suitcase in her hands.

"It's okay Harry! You need a break, even if it is only for a week or two. You've been running yourself ragged."

Were they... Were they all in on this?! Were they really trying to ship her off to Camden of all places?! No. She had too much to do. She couldn't leave! What if something went wrong? The whole point of being in this bloody time in the first place was to help Merope Gaunt! How could she do that if she was miles away?! Harry's chair squawked as she pushed it out from underneath her, coming to an abrupt stand, hands placed on the edge of the table.

"I've not been that busy-"

Bubbe cut her off with a sharp glare and a no-nonsense tone.

"You come here to work from five every single day. After here, you head to the Garrison and pull shifts there until eight at night. Then, after that, you come back here to help clean up, lock up and take out the old food, heading out into the streets to hand out the food to the orphans... The same orphans that you help cloth and give blankets to with the small wage I pay you. Then around twelve, you go back to the Garrison to help clean and clear the area until two, which you then take a walk to make sure all the orphans and homeless people are safe and tucked away, when you drag yourself home to finally go to bed. Harry, dear, you're nearly dead on your feet. You're doing too much..."

Harry violently shook her head, slicing her hand through the air as if she could physically cut the conversation off. She had not known they had been watching her so closely, but either way, it wasn't as much as they were making it seem. Yes, she was a little tired. Yes, she 'technically' did what they say she did, but that was because she either had to, or she couldn't stomach seeing how people were left in the gutter to wither away. If she didn't stand up, who would? It wasn't too little. It wasn't too much. It was just right! Like fucking Goldilocks!

"Three hours is plenty enough time for sleep-..."

For once, the first time, Merope was the one to cut her off. Harry was lost somewhere between being proud and annoyed.

"Harry... Harry you've taught me to come out of my comfort zone. To break out of my shell. I mean, I went for a walk earlier, all by myself Harry! I would have never done that even a month ago, and I only keep getting better each day... Thanks to you. You taught me that. Now... Now it's my time to teach you that it's okay to have some me time. To relax. Kick back. Enjoy yourself. I'll be here, waiting for you in a week or two's time. Small Heath isn't going to burn to the ground just because you're not here to hold it together. It'll be good, for the both of us. You get to relax and I'll learn that I can't always come to you-"

This isn't why she was here! She didn't come for fun. She came for Merope. To right the wrongs. To save the fucking wizarding world as best as she possibly could. In truth, Harry didn't rightly know what the hell fun was. First with aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon, then Voldemort hovering over her head, then the war, then traveling here... Harry didn't 'let loose'. She did, she worked, she planned and she kept on going. That's what she did, that's what she knew how to do.

"Of course you can bloody always come to me-"

Merope stepped forward, slipping into the orange light of one of the gas lamps. For some strange reason, Harry's chest felt tight. Her head swam. She felt dizzy and she wanted to run... Merlin, was she having a panic attack?

"Harry, I didn't mean it like that and you know it. I... I want to be independent, like you. And you... You need that time to relax. I... I can't see you work yourself to death because you think you have to. Please, if you won't do this for yourself, do it for me?"

Merope's begging tone barely brought Harry back from the edge of a full out anxiety attack. Merry's eyes were sad, pleading and Harry, well, she deflated in defeat. A week. Two, tops. What harm could it do? Perhaps Merope was right. They both needed some alone time. Time to only rely on herself and Harry... Harry was tired. Too tired. First the war, the death, then coming here... Harry had never gotten any time to just... Relax. To take it easy and just breath. It was always jumping from one fire to another, hoping to outrun the hellhounds nipping at her heels.

"Oh, yeah, pull that card when you know very well I can't say no to you..."

Merope dropped the suitcase, dashing over and sweeping Harry into a hug, one Harry readily returned. Her voice tickled the shell of Harry's ear.

"Oh, I'll miss you but have fun, Harry. I'll be right here waiting for you"

Now Harry knows how Merope feels when she pushes Merry out of her comfort zone. It isn't a pleasant feeling. As emotion bubbled in her throat, a million and one things running through her mind that could go wrong in the time frame of two weeks, Harry could only bury her face in Merope's hair and grumble back.

"I'll miss you too... You know I love you, Merry, don't you?"

Merope squeezed harder. It's was likely the first time anyone has ever said that to her, and Harry was more than pleased to be the first. She meant it, she really did. Over the last few months, Merope had somehow, some way weaseled her way into Harry's small world and heart and planted her flag smack bang in its hearth.

"I love you too Harry. So very much and that's why you need to do this. It'll be fun, you'll see."

Of course, it was Bubbe who trampled on the tender moment in all her excitement after finally getting Harry to admit defeat. Not an easy task at all.

"Now, come on, we need to get on the road or we won't make it to Camden until nightfall!"

Harry reluctantly pulled away and nodded, going for her suitcase but Ollie had already beaten her to the finish line, shouldering not only Bubbe's but hers too as he gave her a gentle smile, making his way to the front door.

"Here, let me get that for you."

It almost felt surreal as Harry made her way outside, the sun just hitting the horizon, clambering into the passenger seat of a car parked a few spaces away from Bubbe's shop. The suitcases were strapped to the back, Bubbe climbed into the back of the car, followed by Ollie in the driving seat. After all, she had done to get here, to get to Merope, was she really leaving?... No. It was only for two weeks top. Just a break. Merope had said she would wait for her. Harry would definitely be back. They... they both needed this. Merope wanted this. Still, Harry's heart jackhammered in her chest as Merope waved them away, as Ollie took off down the road. Was she doing the right thing? Could something go wrong? Harry's hand fell onto the handle of the car door, her voice high and strained. She couldn't do this! She couldn't! Something would go wrong! It always went wrong!

"You know what? I think I forgot to turn the stove off and I don't know if Merry's packed everything or forgotten-"

"Harry."

Bubbe's voice shattered the hysteria Harry was working herself into and thankfully, her heart rate began to slow to acceptable levels.

"I'm not getting out of this am I?"

Bubbe reached over and pushed a stray curl behind Harry's ear as Harry strained to turn to face Bubbe. Breath. She just needed to breathe.

"No, deary. So sit back and enjoy the ride. After all, me and Merry didn't go through all the hassle of keeping this out of from under your nose for you to just jump out of the car window halfway through the journey. And before you start, we knew you would try and blow us off if we didn't get the surprise drop on you so wipe that look off your face. It's for your own good."

Ollie piped up as he took a rather sharp corner.

"Are you sure it isn't for your enjoyment? That why you haven't corrected Alfie every time he refers to Harry as he?"

Bubbe made a noise as if someone had found her valve and began deflating her.

"Pfffft. My nephew thinks he knows everything. It'll do him some good for a bit of humility to come his way. He's still not too old for a scolding off his aunt. And don't tell me you aren't looking forward to the look on his face when he realizes his mistake. I mean, look how red you turned! Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!"

If Harry was thinking clearly, instead of being lost in oncoming doom and what could happen's, she would have seen this for what it was. A distraction laid out by Bubbe to get her mind off the worry and stress. However, she didn't and fell right into the trap Bubbe had set out for her.

"Am I... Am I a tool being used to get one over on your nephew Bubbe?!"

Bubbe sent her a cheeky wink.

"Don't be silly!... That's just the bonus!"

Harry flopped in her seat, head lolling to look out the window. Well, you know what they say? If you can't beat them, join them... Unless they were death eaters, then burn those fuckers to the ground.

"What have I gotten myself into..."

Harry mentally debated whether she could apparate away without anyone noticing... Doubtful. Ollie, bless him, answered her rhetorical question.

"A very large, very loud, very close Jewish family who's going to be celebrating for a week straight. Think Rania, times twenty."

Both of them seemed to realize the gravity of the situation at the mental image, groaned and said the exact same words in time with one another.

"Oh dear lord."

The oncoming smack up the back of their heads by Bubbe was sharp, precise, and eerily as timed as they had been.

"Do not take the lords name in vain!"

As if they couldn't stop, they answered as one again, both idly rubbing the back of their heads, sheepish.

"Sorry, Rania."

"Sorry, Bubbe."

They drove past a sign saying 'you are leaving Birmingham' and Harry tensed but felt Bubbe's hand on her shoulder. Looking over she saw the warm smile Bubbe is giving her and tried to relax her taut muscles and push back that incessant voice that spoke of all the bad things Harry tried to keep buried deep in her psyche. The endeavor was only partially successful.

"Do not worry so much. Merry will be fine. My nephew will love you, I know it, and so will everyone else. You're my family, which means you're their family now too and family sticks together."

Harry ginger reached up, wrapped her thin fingers around Bubbe's bird-boned hand, squeezed her hand but the soft moment was ruined by Ollie sniggering under his breath.

"Good luck Harry. You're going to need it in this family."

...

"Boy, you're not too old for me to tan your hide with a rolling pin!"

"Sorry, Rania."

THAT NIGHT...

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Shelby, the man buying the race horses?"

Tommy turned around, eyeing up the young man in front of him. He looked aristocratic, rich, pompous, with his straight, royal nose upturned in the air like he smelled something foul. Tommy wanted to roll his eyes but fought the urge down. Business was business after all.

"Yes, I'm trusting your journey was pleasant? I hear you're here to sell two fine stallions? Long way to come."

Tommy held his hand out for a hand shake, but the little prick only turned his nose up further. Tommy let his hand drop. Today was going to be a long, long day.

"Yes, yes. Family business you see. We raise them, you race them. We're always looking for new clientele. Thomas Riddle, at your service, as they say."

I'm back! Just in time for the new season of Peaky Blinders!

TRANSLATIONS:
eyniklekh- Granddaughter
Bubbe- Grandmother

NOTES ON THIS CHAPTER:

Alfie's muse demanded he be brought in a lot sooner than I was originally planning, and well, I couldn't say no, so here Alfie comes! Plus, having Harry know Alfie before Alfie and Tommy meet, well it makes a good few scenes I have cooking in this demented brain of mine!

As for Harry going on a break, I think it was needed. Merope needs to learn independence by herself, and the only way to truly learn that is to be by yourself. Harry herself needs a break and time to just relax (Though, let's face it, this trip is not going to be 'relaxing' XD). From a very young age, for Harry, everything has been do or die. This is not a healthy mindset and she is digging herself into an early grave, something Bubbe and Merope see and they are not willing to let Harry practically kill herself by trying to do everything at once for nearly everyone.

QUESTIONS ANSWERED:

THE THREESOME RELATIONSHIP? IS HARRY GOING TO CHOOSE? WILL ALFIE AND TOMMY FIGHT?

I can't give too much away, but I do have a few things to clear up. Harry, the one I'm writing and picture when I write, loves and loves deeply. Once you earn that sort of love, nothing gets in its way. Views, ideology, prejudices, nothing. So, say she fell in love with two people, even if the two couldn't stand each other, to Harry it doesn't matter. She loves them, end of.

So what does this mean? In short, Harry doesn't give two fucks. In her life she has been love/attention/affection starved. So when she finds someone worthy, or as she views someone as worthy of that love, she doesn't let other peoples views/thoughts/opinions affect that. Take Remus for example. Harry came to care and love him, found out he was a werewolf, a dangerous creature, a kind belittled, scorned and overall hated, did Harry care? Did it change her love/care of Remus? Hell no.

The same will be for Harry in this fic. If Harry feels like she's doing whats right by herself, her views, her moral compass, she couldn't care less about the outside world. The only thing to change her view would be if she was putting someone in danger/hurting them.

Now, how does this fraction into the Alfie/Harry/Tommy dynamic? Harry, in my mind, doesn't live by societal 'norms'. She's not after a large house, husband, two point four kids to settle down in and grow old (THOUGH! None of those options are fully off the table, they likely just won't come in the form you're expecting them ;)). She loves someone, that's enough for her. That's all she wants... Love. Of course, this is going to bring friction between Alfie and Tommy, and I can't say too much, but I think it will only add to the story and make the relationship more... 'adult' and less fairytale of 'oh, I traveled back in time, fell in love and settled down and the world is at peace now.' spin that most HP time travel fics have. I'm not saying that's wrong, I enjoy some of those stories, but this is not one of them. Grown-up feelings, relationships, connections, they're complicated, deeply so. Life in general is the most complicated thing there is. That is what I'm trying to achieve here.

So no, Harry isn't going to choose one or the other. Tommy and Alfie aren't going to be pitted against one another to win the hand of the fair maiden and while there is going to be drama and tension over these relationships for various reasons, Harry is going to love and get the love she deserves back. Sorry, that's all I can say without giving the plot away.

ARE WE GOING TO GET TOM RIDDLE JR?

Once again, I can't say much... But Thomas Riddle Sr is on the scene now... So... ;). In the books, it states that Merope often watched Thomas Riddle ride across the fields and moors on horseback, and horses are often seen around his estate, and well, with Tommy and his racing horses, It was easy to link the two together to bring Daddy Riddle into the picture. How that affects things, well, you'll have to read to find out! ;)

IS FREDDIE GOING TO DIE IN THIS FIC?

Short answer? Nope, I have plans for him. Hint? He plays a very important role in outing Harry in front of a certain 'someone'. That's all I'm giving away.

DID POLLY SENSE HARRY'S MAGIC? ARE WE GOING TO MEET THE LEE'S? ARE THEY MAGICAL TOO?

Yes, Polly did sense it, and so did/does Tommy on some subconscious level. I will say they didn't get the whole, Oh, this is a magical being, more of something isn't quite right here, sort of vibes. Harry, in turn, gets the same feeling from them. Which has added to her frustration with trying to 'pin' Tommy's character down. With the both of them, they both feel something's different with the other, and its piqued both their curiosities. A dangerous mix... ;)

As for the Lee's, yes, they are coming. Yes, they're magical, but definitely not in the way Harry is. Think old, hearth magic. Curses, hexes, words. That's where their power lies. They have no wands, no flashy magic, but don't count them out. Let's just say, eventually, the two have a run in and it unsettles both parties involved.

THANK YOU ALL! Honestly, this chapters been a long time coming and I hope it lived up to your expectations and you are looking forward to what's in store next! Just remember, it might take me a while to update sometimes, but I will never fully abandon a fic!

THIS CHAPTER IS FOR EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! You are the beautiful people that keep me coming back and writing. Without you, there would only be one chapter of this and that would be all XD. So, here's to you fantastic bastards!

If you have a spare moment, please drop your thoughts in that little box over there and press review... They make my day!

I hope you all enjoyed this, and are looking forward to the next chapter, until next time, stay beautiful! (By order of the PEAKY FUUUUHKIN' BLINDAAHS!)~ AlwaysEatTheRude21