Landing on a street, the loud traffic of central London greeted their ears, almost deafening. Horns wailing, people talking on their phones in an incessant chatter, performers singing and playing instruments, a plane flying overhead.

  Delilah moved to step forward but Tom was stiff. Turning to him, his face was painted in the purest form of shock. Eyes wide, darting back and forth, watching people weave past them wearing odd clothing and everything was so busy.

  He got a headache from the noise alone.

  "You okay?" She squeezed his hand, looking up at him with furrowed brows. His own held a crease between, his mind moving at rapid pace to keep up and process everything.

  He felt relief flood through him, though. London was whole, tall buildings scraped the clouds and gleamed with slick glass. Life was surrounding him. Even after the disasters of the bombs, the giant only appeared to grow.

  Delilah had told him they won the war, but now he was standing in living proof that Britain had persevered.

  "I'm okay."

  Offering him a smile, she began down the streets, her mental map coming back to her as they walked, like fish in a busy stream. Tom kept to her side, not daring to let her go in case he or she got swept away in the undertow.

  Delilah looked at ease, she was finally back in her natural environment, after so many months she was back. Tom thought people would be giving them odd looks due to their vintage taste in clothing. But no one spared a glance, too busy wrapped up in such strange box-like contraptions.

  He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "are those the phone things you were talking about?" His tone was one of genuine, childlike intrigue. She couldn't help but smile and she nodded. "If you think that's something, just wait till we turn down the next street."

  She was giddy, excited for him, and he raised a questionable brow. Rounding the corner, he was greeted by the large glowing signs of Piccadilly's Circus, advertising for what he could only assume were shops.

  If he thought the street where they had been was busy this was something else entirely. The circle was also a place of attraction even back in the forties, but with evolution in technology it clearly gained a larger rapport.

  "What's McDonald's?"

  Delilah bit her lip, trying her hardest not to laugh. This whole situation was just odd. Shaking her head, she tugged him along, the two getting lost in another swarm of people. "C'mon let's get a change of clothes and then you can eat. After we need to try to find out where the Order is located."

  They entered a clothing shop, Tom didn't see the name but it was massive. Blinding white lights shone above them, it made his eyes hurt and he kept his focus in front of him. "The Order?" He asked, eyeing an oddly patterned shirt they walked by.

  Muggles dressed so strangely.

  Delilah brought them to a stop in front of the women's section. Tom didn't really need new clothes, sure he looked old school but it was charming in nature. She on the other hand, looked like she just stepped out of a pinup photo shoot.

  "It's a secret society Dumbledore formed, to fight Vol-" she stopped herself, her tongue going dry. She'd almost forgotten the name was now taboo.

  That could've been disastrous.

  Imagine it, a swarm of Death Eaters crashing down inside a Miller's Outpost only to be greeted by a younger version of their Dark Lord.

  Taking a breath, she began to rifle through a stack of jeans, "to fight You-Know-Who. You can't say his name, it's jinxed to alert the location of whoever says it... God I haven't worn jeans in ages I don't even remember my size." She grumbled.

  Tom looked her over before gazing at the different sizes listed on the tags, "you're an eight."

  "How do you know?"

  He shrugged and grabbed a size eight, handing them to her, "your measurements." She blushed and nipped the pants from his hands. Yes he's seen her naked, but to be honest she didn't think he had paid that much attention.

  Leading him to a rack of shirts, she filed through him and he scrunched his nose at the crude colors and awkward angles. It was atrocious. Taking in his reaction, she rolled her eyes and set the shirt she was looking at back on the rail.

  "Where were they at last time?" Tom inquired as she brought them to what looked like the men's section and she dug through black and gray hoodies. "An old town house on the outskirts of the city, but they move every week."

  Grabbing hold of a dark gray hoodie, she held it up to her form and looked up at him, "what do you think?"

  "It doesn't seem very complimentary for your figure."

  "It's not supposed to be complimentary asshole, it's supposed to be comfortable." Nonetheless her cheeks felt warm. Despite herself she wanted to look good for him, but making sure she had a fashionable outfit was the least of her worries.

  She needed one more thing, though.

  They walked around a bit more until they came to the shoe section, Delilah immediately darting for the red Converse.

  "Don't you already have a pair of those?"

  "I did, but they got left behind."

  Tom checked the price and he scoffed, "I'm assuming this is because of inflation and not quality."

  "They are quality, shut up."

  "And where are you going to get this money from, by the way?" He mused as she sat down on one of the chairs that were littered around the area, taking the shoes out and fixing the laces.

  Delilah shrugged, "what they don't know won't hurt them." Tom smiled, it was small but it was amusing to watch how excited she was. She tried them on and they appeared to fit as she rolled up to the toes of her feet and back onto her ankles.

  Grabbing her clothes, she turned to him. "I'll be right back."

  His brows creased for what felt like the hundredth time, "where are you going?"

  "The changing room," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Delilah turned and began to walk away, but seconds later footsteps fell in step with hers.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Coming with you."

  "You can't."

  "And why's that?"

  His burnt coffee eyes held a challenge and she felt a blush raise up her neck. For someone from the forties, he was very cheeky when he wanted to be.

  Rolling her eyes as if it bothered her, when really it didn't, she looped her arm through his. As they neared the women's changing room, it looked empty for the most part and there was no employee around to chastise Tom.

  Still, she wasn't risking getting yelled at so she hurried them along to one of the large rooms at the very end. "No rush," he teased as she pushed him inside, Delilah scoffing at him as she shut the door behind her. Locking it, she also cast a silencing charm.

  Barely having time to do so much as slip off her shoes, she felt Tom's fingers dance across her shoulders lightly before finding the zipper on her dress. Her breath hitched, not expecting the gesture but she wasn't going to deny it either.

  His breath was hot on her neck, his knuckle lightly dragging down the curve of her spine as he tugged on the zipper. Tom pushed the fabric from her shoulders and it pooled at her feet.

  Placing a chaste kiss to her neck, he mumbled into her skin, "I'm going to miss your dresses." Before she could utter a word he stepped back and settled himself in the small chair shoved into the corner, his ankle crossed over his knee as he watched her.

  Delilah felt exposed, but in the most sensual way.

  Shaking her head, she grabbed the jeans and ripped off the tag before shimmying into them. Not missing how his eyes darkened as the material clung to her legs and curves in all the right places.

  Perhaps modern clothing wasn't that bad, Tom mused to himself.

  Shrugging on the sweatshirt, she felt comforted by the soft material and put the converse back on. She didn't really want to leave the dress, but she realized she hadn't much choice as Tom stood up and took hold of her hand again.

  She caught sight of themselves in the mirror and couldn't help but laugh. There Tom was, in all his striking aristocratic glory next to her in a baggy jumper and skinny jeans. Nonetheless, she felt her old self sinking back into her skin.

  Running a hand through her hair to mess it up a bit, she pocketed her wand and unlocked the door. "What's sushi? You never explained it," Tom asked. Delilah was about to do so when she met the wide eyes of a young teenager, the girl's eyes trailing to the discarded dress and Delilah's still blushed cheeks.

  Smiling awkwardly, Delilah yanked on Tom's hand and practically dragged him out of the changing area, he looked oblivious and she wanted to smack him.

  "It's raw fish, seaweed, and rice," she muttered as they made their way back onto the busy streets. His lip curled, "that sounds atrocious."

  "It's delicious. But we don't have time, so chips it is." They neared those artificially golden arches and Tom took in the restaurant's name, he could smell burnt oil in the air and it didn't seem appealing at all. Yet as they walked in, the tables were packed.

  He eyed the lit up menu behind the counter, "people actually eat this rubbish?" Tom said it a bit too loudly and got some glances from the workers and she shushed him. She realized it was a bit, or a massive step down from the food he was accustomed to.

  After a well placed jinx, they walked out with their free chips and Delilah led them to a small alley resting between two buildings.

  Tom ate his at a slow pace, his palet getting used to the flavor but he guessed it wasn't that bad. Still, oil coated his tongue and the salt made his mouth water yet dry at the same time.

  Delilah dropped one into her mouth, the chip burning her tongue but she welcomed it and brought out her wand.

  She hoped to god this worked, because if it didn't they'd be lost. If anything, she supposed they could go to Grimmauld Place, but Hermione had told her there was a high chance the location had been compromised when Yaxley followed her, Harry, and Ron from the Ministry.

  Nonetheless, it was all they had. She didn't even know where her family was, they were also on the move, following the Order for safety's sake.

  She was about to cast the spell, but her nerves got the best of her, "I need another chip." Tom raised a brow at her but gestured for her to take one, "do you want me to do it?"

  "No," she shook her head, chewing numbly. "It has to be from me or else they won't come." Then again, they had the same patronus, but they needed to hear her voice. They needed to know it was her.

  Clearing her throat, she raised her wand and muttered the spell, pale moon-white light pouring from her wand and swarming to life in the shape of a greyhound.

  It sat patiently, ears perked up and alert.

  Tom eyed the dog with sudden realization, how had he forgotten what hers was? It had been many months since he watched her cast the spell for the first time, but still he should have remembered such a spectacle. Theirs were the same.

  And his mind reeled at what that meant.

  Delilah pulled her tongue from the roof of her mouth, her words feeling heavy even though she had yet to speak them. "Inform the Order; I'm here. I'm alive. I'm home and I need a bit of guidance. Bring me home." Her voice broke off in a whisper and the dog took off, disappearing off into the sky, in the hunt to deliver the message.

  Tom took hold of her hand then and her head fell against his chest, her heart was thudding violently against her ribs and made her ears ring. "Are you ready for this?" He discarded the chips in a nearby bin and ran a hand through her hair, and she looked up at him.

  Worry was etched into her features but she nodded, "I have to be... are you ready?"

  His face lowered then and his lips pressed softly to hers, it was probably the most gentle he's ever done so and she melted into it. The hand in her hair slid down to her neck and held her close, deepening the kiss for another moment before pulling back.

  This was important, for history and for her. At the moment, if he were being honest, Tom only cared about the latter. He couldn't mess this up. Tom knew he wasn't going to, if he needed to get something done he would.

  Admittedly, his pride could get in the way and he knew the grounds he was about to walk into had to be done so carefully, treading with cautious steps.

  He was about to meet Harry Potter, after all.