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Chapter Text

O brothers mine, take care! Take care!
The great white witch rides out to-night.
Trust not your prowess nor your strength,
Your only safety lies in flight;
For in her glance there is a snare,
And in her smile there is a blight. 

The great white witch you have not seen?
Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,
Like nursery children you have looked
For ancient hag and snaggle-tooth;
But no, not so; the witch appears
In all the glowing charms of youth. 

Her lips are like carnations, red,
Her face like new-born lilies, fair,
Her eyes like ocean waters, blue,
She moves with subtle grace and air,
And all about her head there floats
The golden glory of her hair. 

But though she always thus appears
In form of youth and mood of mirth,
Unnumbered centuries are hers,
The infant planets saw her birth;
The child of throbbing Life is she,
Twin sister to the greedy earth. 

And back behind those smiling lips,
And down within those laughing eyes,
And underneath the soft caress
Of hand and voice and purring sighs,
The shadow of the panther lurks,
The spirit of the vampire lies. 

For I have seen the great white witch,
And she has led me to her lair,
And I have kissed her red, red lips
And cruel face so white and fair;
Around me she has twined her arms,
And bound me with her yellow hair. 

I felt those red lips burn and sear
My body like a living coal;
Obeyed the power of those eyes
As the needle trembles to the pole;
And did not care although I felt
The strength go ebbing from my soul. 

Oh! she has seen your strong young limbs,
And heard your laughter loud and gay,
And in your voices she has caught
The echo of a far-off day,
When man was closer to the earth;
And she has marked you for her prey. 

She feels the old Antaean strength
In you, the great dynamic beat
Of primal passions, and she sees
In you the last besieged retreat
Of love relentless, lusty, fierce,
Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet. 

O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!
The great white witch rides out to-night.
O, younger brothers mine, beware!
Look not upon her beauty bright;
For in her glance there is a snare,
And in her smile there is a blight.

- James Weldon Johnson, The White Witch

Chapter Text

Delilah had never felt so broken.

  As she apparated, she landed on shaking legs in the tall grass, feeling like daggers in her skin. Dried blood coated the corners of her mouth and was caked in her nose, making it hard to breathe.

  Taking a step, her muscles trembled and her lungs screamed out and agony. Why must she keep fighting? What was the point? Her body was begging her to give up. Just sleep. Just rest. Rest and it will all be over.

  Looking at the house, light from candles gleamed in the panes, making it looks alive and she felt like crying. It was only a few yards away yet felt like miles and miles and miles.

  Delilah didn't know where Tom was, and she couldn't trust anyone. A wail left her lips, making her sound like a wounded animal as she crumbled to the ground, her fingers clutching at the earth as she convulsed and threw up.

  She was sweating, her hair sticking to her neck and cheeks and she scratched it away, aggravated and her mind was a mess, not taking note how her nails tore through her skin.

  Her chest was heaving, as if all the oxygen had been yanked away from the atmosphere, leaving her suffocating and alone and scared. She didn't know what to do.

  Everything had changed.

  Delilah knew the truth and she felt like screaming until she vomited her lungs and then her heart. She wanted to stomp on it, stab it, crush it within her fingers for making her feel so terrible and desperate and lonely.

  It was overwhelming, all her trust had been upended, mocked as if her feeling of betrayal was childish.

  How could he?

  Her mind chanted incessantly, making her ears ring and she pushed her forehead into the ground, gripping and yanking on her hair until her scalp burned, begging for her mind to stop talking.

  He was lying all along.

  Stop talking.

  He played you.

  Stop talking.

  He used you.

  Please stop talking.

  He never cared.

  Delilah blacked out, alone in a field, broken.

Chapter Text

  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. 

Chapter Text

  Minutes ticked by, Delilah had pulled away from Tom and paced, tapping anxiously against her leg. He watched her calmly, eyes tracing the path she’d walk from a bin to the wall. Over and over again. 

  Eventually she threw up her hands in exasperation, “what if they don’t come?”

  “They will.”

  “How do you know?” she snapped, and he refrained from rolling his eyes at her sudden attitude. He knew it was from stress. “They‘ve only just realized you’re alive, it’ll be a bit of a shock. They have to be cautious in case it’s a trap.” 

  Delilah deflated a bit and closed her eyes, “right. Of course. That makes sense.” 

  Leaning against the wall, he tilted his head as he observed her. “There wouldn’t be any use in telling you to calm down, would there?” Her eyes narrowed, “no there wouldn’t.” 

  Tom hummed, “thought so.” 

  Delilah felt incredibly nauseous, her stomach wound up in a tight knot and the back of her neck felt stiff. She also felt rather twitchy, her fingers shaking and she found if she stayed still her left leg would start to tremble. 

  What was taking them so bloody long? 

  The thought barely registered as there were two sudden cracks that erupted from the back of the alley. They both whipped around, eyes squinting into the shadows. Two figures were approaching hesitantly, and for a moment she saw a flash of sandy blond hair. 

  “Merlin-“ the word just passed her lips as her brother sprang forward, crushing her in a hug and she let out a sharp cry both from relief and shock. 

  Delilah squeezed him so tight she was sure she was hurting him, Harrison didn’t seem to mind seeing as he was returning the gesture with full force. “You’re fucking alive- jesus christ you’re actually alive.” He said in a mess of jumbled words into her hair, eyes squeezed shut. 

  She laughed breathlessly and caught sight of Kingsley behind him, her smile faltered at his expression. 

  “Ms Meddows, I’m going to need you to slowly come towards me.” 

  Her brows furrowed and Harrison seemed equally as confused as he pulled away from his sister, looking over at Kingsley in question. 

  “What do you mean, is this a security check? Ask me anything.” 

  His eyes flashed to behind her and she followed his gaze, landing directly on Tom. She had forgotten he was there for a moment, too caught up in the fact that Harrison was okay. He was there, in front of her. Her mind reeled back to the cave and the false image of him being broken and hurt. 

  Realizion settled in quickly, however. Delilah paled and hurriedly stepped in front of Tom, who had gained a defensive look in his eye. 

  “No you don't understand-“

  “Delilah that’s…” Harrison’s eyes widened as he looked at Tom, remembering how Harry had called them all down to look at the picture in the yearbook. 

  “Step away from him.” Kingsley said in a calm voice and she shook her head, reaching behind her to grab hold of Tom’s hand. “Listen to me-“

  “Delilah back away, now .” Harrison’s features warped into a mix of fear and anger and he tried to reach for his sister but she dodged his hold. 

  “He’s with me for fucks sake, just listen!” 

  Tom on the other hand appeared calm as ever, the sudden unfold of stress between the others not bothering him in the slightest. An easy smile graced his lips as he looked at the two men, “I take it there’s no need for me to make an introduction, then?” 

  Delilah squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled a sharp breath, he was unbelievable. “You really need to work on your timing,” she said looking over her shoulder at him. 

  Tom shrugged impartially, “it’s a work in progress.”

  When she turned back towards Harrison and Kingsley she was met with their rightfully confused expressions at her and Tom’s interaction. 

  Sighing again from exhaustion, she rubbed at her eyes as she tried to piece together some coherent way to explain this. “This is going to be a lot to unpack.” 

  “You don’t say,” Harrison’s tone was dry and untrusting. 

  She didn’t blame him. 

  “Look, once we get to the Order I’ll explain everything in much greater detail. But I want to make this clear, Tom is not You-Know-Who. He isn’t. If you don’t believe me, which is completely understandable, you can call upon Dumbledore’s portrait.” 

  “Are you mental? We aren’t taking him to our headquarters.” 

  “Harrison-“

  “Ms Meddows,” Kingsley cut in, his eyes intensely set on Tom even though he was speaking to her. “I don’t think you understand the severity-“

“Yes. I do.” 

  Today was going to be full of interruptions, she was sure of it. 

  Tom stepped around Delilah and the two men’s wands were immediately drawn. He kept his hands up, that ever present distant look on his face, “you have full reign to restrain me if it’ll make you feel better.” 

  Again with the sarcasm hidden under his tone. 

  Delilah wanted to smack him, she didn’t know if his seemingly easy going nature was better or worse but she sure as hell knew it wouldn’t matter once Harry laid eyes on him. 

  Without a thought, light shot out in the form of a rope and bound Tom’s hands behind his back, rather tight gauging by how his jaw had clenched.

  Kingsley finally pulled away from observing Tom and walked up to Delilah, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to be sure about this, you know hell is going to break loose once they see him.”

  Straightening her shoulders, she raised her chin and gave him a curt nod. “I understand.” 

  A very small, almost invisible smile met the man’s lips, he looked tired. Giving her shoulder a squeeze he sighed, “I’m glad you’re safe. They’re going to be happy that you’re back.” 

  Delilah wished she could believe that. 

  They’d probably all hate her. 

  They should hate her. 

  Turning to Tom, he merely raised an impatient brow at her. Once they were alone later she was going to slap the absolute daylights out of him. 

  Harrison then raised his wand, and a rucksack slid over Tom’s head. 

  “Is that really necessary?” his voice was muffled by the fabric and her brother shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see the action. 

  “Can never be too cautious. Shall we?” 

  Gripping onto Tom’s arm, she also grabbed hold of Harrison and the apparated.

   Their feet landed with a thump on whitewashed tile, the room dim due to all curtains being drawn but Delilah quickly noted they were in a kitchen. 

  It looked painfully muggle, save for the magic trinkets littered everywhere. The tile was sectioned in squares and yellowed with age. The proportions of the room appeared too cluttered yet large, indicating an extension charm was used. 

  Her eyes fluttered around, taking in the light brown wooden counters, metal sink and the plastic dishes cramped into the glass cupboards above. Through the middle was a very long table, more worn and had maps and news articles spread throughout. 

  She glanced at the date, October 1998. 

  Right, to them she’s only been gone three months. 

  For her it had nearly been a year.

  So much had changed, for awhile she genuinely thought she’d never see any of them again. She felt she had lost so much. 

  Delilah had. 

  Elio’s necklace burned against her skin and she gripped it tight with white knuckles. 

  “It smells incredibly drafty in here,” Tom muttered quietly and she blinked out of her trance. Shooting Kingsley a glance, he nodded after a moment and she lifted the rucksack off Tom’s head. 

  His eyes adjusted to the darkened kitchen and he bit at his cheek either in thought or disgust. Delilah couldn’t tell, probably both. 

  Their eyes met, but other than that silence ensued before the clatter of footsteps could be heard approaching from the hallway. 

  Her heart shot up into her throat, suddenly feeling cold and faint and she slumped against the table. Tom went to reach for her but cursed under his breath when the sharp reminder of the restraints cut into his wrists. He didn’t have the time to ask if she was alright before three people burst into the kitchen. 

  Tom immediately jumped out of the way as a spell was fired at him, the light a blinding red but it wasn’t that deep of a crimson so he crossed out it being a hex. 

  Probably just a stunning jinx, he mused. It was funny to him, Delilah never hesitated to knock him back with some darker magic. 

  No doubt he had a mildly bad influence on her. 

  Shaking his thoughts away he saw the three who had entered. A lanky red headed boy, a girl with wild hair and dark skin, and then the one who fired the spell at him. He was a bit shorter than Tom, with the world's most unkempt black hair and startling green eyes. 

  He looked absolutely furious. 

  “Harry Potter, I presume?” his tone was painfully casual and it knocked Delilah out of her trance. 

  She was going to kill him. 

  “Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled and Tom’s wand flew out from where it was holstered. He was visibly shaking and the red head quickly stepped in front of the girl protectively, his own wand out. Tom eyed it. 

  Cheap. 

  Either that or it was a hand-me-down, it didn’t seem to fit quite right in the boys hold. 

  “As you can see I’m quite defenseless at the moment,” he turned in a short circle to flash his bound wrists. “But please do keep firing at me if it’s comforting.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Ron huffed out and went to fire something at him, shortly joined by Harry but Delilah practically threw herself in front of Tom. 

  “Wait wait wait.” she rushed, her hands up with palms splayed. She was struggling to breathe, still dizzy and she was worried she was on the verge of hyperventilating. 

  “One more word out of you and I swear to fucking god I will castrate you,” she muttered, only in ear shot of Tom and his lips quirked up at one side. Other than that he remained quiet.

  Her eyes shot over her friends quickly, all equal mixtures of shock, horror, and anger. 

  Hermione looked purely stunned, her wand out as well but her eyes were calculating as she jumped back and forth between Delilah and Tom. Watching how they interacted carefully and thought back to how they were looking at each other in that yearbook photo.

  Ron was flushed red, the tips of his ears on fire and he had a grimace to his lips. Pure loathing and revenge was etched into his features. 

  Delilah paled, of course. She had just jumped to defend the person who had nearly killed his sister. 

  And then Harry… her breath escaped her and black dots swam across her vision. His expression couldn’t be filed under mere words. Words were too simple. The most she could muster was anger and disappointment. No, anger was dull. 

  Wrath.

  His eyes were burning with it. 

  Her own widened, his grip on his wand looked as if it would shatter the wood but other than that he was deathly still. 

  He looked like he was going to kill someone. Tom specifically, but if need be he’d go through her too. 

  “Move.” Harry’s voice sliced through the air, making her hair stand up. Delilah settled her weight and gulped dryly, “Harry listen to me.” 

  “ Move .” 

  “Potter,” Harrison cut in, him and Kingsley’s presence becoming known again. 

  “Delilah move.” 

  “Let me explain-“

  “Impedimenta.” 

  Barely having time to register Harry throwing a stunning spell at her, she felt someone twist her around. Her eyes met Tom’s for the briefest of moments before the jinx slammed into his back and he went limp against her, Delilah catching him in her arms. Due to his dead weight however, she fell to the floor with him. 

  Rolling Tom off her, she shot up to her feet and saw Harry stalk forward, who knows what spell on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t in his right mind. He’d never kill anyone. Even Voldemort. 

  Now the opportunity was right in front of him. The person who he thought to kill his parents and so many others he loved was knocked out and vulnerable and everything was happening much too quickly. 

  Delilah cast a quick shield around her and Tom, the glimmer of it only seeming to fuel Harry further. She couldn’t hear properly, it all sounded foggy but Hermione was yelling something. 

  Maybe Harrison was too and Kingsley was shouting something out the door. More people were stumbling into the room. 

  Looking down at Tom’s passed out self reality crashed back down and her ears began to ring as she registered all the sound flooding back in. 

  So much noise. 

  “ Enough !” 

  The roar of her voice shook the room and someone was able to yank Harry back- Arthur. It was Arthur. 

  Who was still alive? A lot could happen in three months during a war. 

  Arthur, Molly, Harrison, Kingsley, Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Patil twins, Ginny, George, Charlie, Fleur, Luna, Percy, McGonagall, Neville, Dean, Cormac, her parents... her vision blurred as Hermione stepped in front of her. 

  She said something. 

  “What?” 

  Again. 

  Delilah knew her lips were moving. 

  “Sorry, can- can you say that again?” 

  Turning, she knelt down next to Tom and brushed the hair away from his eyes. 

  The room was spinning. 

  “You’re going into shock.” 

  Hermione’s voice cut and stabbed into her skull like a knife and her world upended as she fell unconscious against him. 

  “Where’s Tom,” the words ripped from her dry throat as she sat up, a sudden wave of coughs violently shaking her ribs. 

  Hermione appeared at her side and eased her back to lay down, the space between her brows creased with worry. She looked exhausted. 

  Her friend sighed, pleating her hands neatly in her lap. “He’s still downstairs, he woke up a few hours ago.” 

  “What? Why didn’t you wake me up? Is he okay?” Delilah went to get up again but Hermione shook her head, her eyes sharp as she registered the genuine worry on the blondes face. 

  “He’s being questioned, he’s fine though. I’m actually surprised he woke up before you considering how powerful that spell was.” 

  Delilah should’ve felt relieved but tension still gnawed at her whole body, her limbs feeling like rusted metal. Squeezing her eyes shut, her head sank back into the pillow.

  “How’s Harry?” 

  There was a long pause as Hermione thought it over. She could say Harry was fine to ease Delilah’s stress but she’d easily see through it. 

  “I don’t know. There was a lot of yelling, he had to be pulled from the room. He punched Cormac. The only person to go anywhere near him since has been Ginny.” 

  “Merlin. This is a wreck. I knew it would be bad but what the fuck was I thinking?” 

  Looking over at Hermione, she saw she was picking at her nails to avoid her gaze. “What ‘Mione?” 

  Sighing, she looked up and her hazel eyes were warm but always calculating. “What were you thinking? No- I don’t mean like that, sorry. I’m overwhelmed with happiness that you’re alive and well and back home. I am.” Pulling Delilah up, she crushed her in a hug. Hermione still smelt like books and herbs and it made her heartbeat calm down a bit. 

  “I missed you. All of you so much.” 

  They pulled back and she smiled, “we did too. All of us. I’m just wondering.. why bring You-Know-“

  “Tom,” Delilah corrected her without a thought. 

  Hermione blinked at her, that crease between her brows returning. “Why bring him back here? That’s incredibly reckless. The timeline would completely unravel with one missed step. That’s why we had to take Harry’s wand so he didn’t do anything impulsive.” 

  Delilah’s eyes widened. That no doubt pissed Harry off even further. 

  “Yeah, I know.” Hermione sighed, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

  Leaning back against the headboard, Delilah took in the room they were in. It was rather small, the walls painted a light grey with white sheets and there were some pictures and news clippings posted to the mirror. Clothes were strewn around though, and from the looks of it this was probably Hermione’s room. But there were also some men’s clothes scattered and she noticed a chess board on the desk. 

  Her and Ron were sharing a room. 

  “I have no idea where to start.” 

  “Well, how was it at least? A three month holiday from the war seems nice.” It was Hermione’s attempt at a joke. It wasn’t good but she appreciated it nonetheless. 

  A bemused smile tugged at her dried lips, “it was actually about a year for me.” 

  Hermione’s jaw went slack. 

  “You were there a whole year? All alone.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well I saw you were at Hogwarts.”

  “How?”

  “A yearbook I had managed to find.” 

  Delilah hummed, twirling her necklace, “can I see it?” 

  She nodded, waving her hand and the book flew from the bookcase along the left wall. It came to rest in her lap and it flipped open to a page. 

  The graduating class of 1944.

  Her eyes glanced over all her friends, then they fell on Elio. 

  She stared. 

  They were all laughing, not standing still for the photo. Elio’s hair was a mess from the wind and he was grinning widely as Pyrrhus shoved into him playfully. 

  “Are you okay?” Hermione’s voice was soft and Delilah realized after a moment that her cheeks were warm with a few escaped tears. 

  Sniffing, she snapped the book shut and tossed it away from her as if it burned. 

  “Who was he? If you mind me asking.” 

  “A friend. A really good friend for the time that I knew him. But he- he’s- fuck .” 

  Wiping the tears away, she pulled her knees up to her chest. “So much has happened ‘Mione. Everything changed. I had Dumbledore to help but…” 

  “Dumbledore was there to help you?” The curiosity and sadness was prevalent in her tone. 

  “He was but- merlin it all feels like a fever dream now.” Her mind raked through all the months, all the happy moments and all the bad and all the heartbreak and triumph. 

  “Eventually he figured out the easiest and sure way to get me home was with a time turner but they only resided within the Ministry. So we as a group went down but Grindelwald’s followers were-“ she suddenly hiccuped, not realizing her breathing had picked up in pace. Her chest felt too tight, like her ribs were shrinking. 

  Hermione quickly summoned a vial from a cabinet and brought it to Delilah’s lips. “Drink this, it’s a calming draught.” The liquid poured down her throat, thick and warm but it caressed the tension that had knotted up all over her body. 

  After a moment Hermione asked, “Grindelwald was after you?” She also wanted to ask if that’s what happened to the boy, but due to the heartbroken expression in her friend's face she put the pieces together. 

  “Yes, there was something placed on me though when I went to the Ministry for that one mission. The one I didn’t come back from. Some sort of body clock, someone sent me back in time for a reason. I just don’t know what. And Grindelwald knew I was from the future so he intercepted us and I would assume he would use me for information.” 

  Hermione nodded slowly, trying to take it all in. “How does you-know… Tom fit into all of this?” 

  Despite the calming potion she still felt her stomach churn. 

  “He was the first person my age I met. Dumbledore enrolled me as a new student since I had shown up at the very beginning of the term. I had to get resorted and everything and was placed in Slytherin.” 

  “Really? How does that work?” 

  Delilah’s lips quirked up, she missed all of Hermione’s questions when she didn’t know something. It was a rarity, but amusing when it happened. 

  “The sorting hat didn’t really care to explain. It just said I was needed in the Slytherin house. And Tom was head boy, he introduced me to people who made being there easier. You’d be surprised how kind Draco’s grandfather is.” 

  Hermione seemed skeptical. 

  Her heart sank, having to remember all her friends from this time have only witnessed one reality. 

  “He really was. I don’t know what happened but he was a very genuine person. Tom, over time I’m sure, corrupted that in the original timeline.”

  “The original? What do you mean, has anything changed?” 

  “He has.” 

  “Delilah you can’t be serious,” Hermione laughed in disbelief. Wondering if her friend had actually lost it. 

  Sitting up, her eyes were set and a storm was brewing behind them. Hermione leaned back a bit, just now registering the subtle changes to the girl. 

  She looked sharper, if that term could even be applied. There was a roughness to Delilah now that one couldn’t miss once they’ve seen it. Her eyes were colder than she remembered. She looked tired.

  Something had shifted. 

  “What happened to you?” 

  “Too much. But Hermione,” grabbing her friends hands, she squeezed them and held a burning vigor in her gaze.

  “He can help end all this.”

  There were a few moments of quiet as Hermione seemed to recede into her mind, undoubtedly puzzling something together. 

  The two parts of herself were clashing. The logical side and the empathetic part. Delilah had realized he was the young Voldemort and still appeared to care for him despite knowing everything he would be responsible for. 

  That part confused Hermione immensely. How could she? Then again with her empath side she understood. Delilah had been thrown into such a chaotic situation so suddenly, completely alone and defenseless. 

  Of course her mind would want to latch onto someone in order to cope with that. 

  Being alone was utterly terrifying. It ate away at a person. And although it was unfortunate, it made sense the person would be Tom Riddle. His whole entire person was a mystery and she knew Delilah wouldn’t be able to resist. Despite all the consequences. The girl was only human. 

  “You love him, don’t you?” 

  Delilah couldn’t decipher her tone, she hadn’t the energy. But hearing someone else say it, in such clarity sent a shockwave through her. 

  “I do.” 

  Hermione bit at her lip, she looked incredibly confused. An odd expression not typically seen on her. “Even when you know who he becomes?” 

  “He’s not- hes-“ she took a deep breath. “I didn’t piece it together right away. In fact I was embarrassingly slow about it. Took me months before I figured it out. I think i subconsciously tried to ignore it until I didn’t have a choice anymore.” 

  “And even after, you still do?” 

  “Hermione. He has changed, Dumbledore even said so. I know trusting my judgement is a stretch but trust his.” 

  “Even a Dumbledore’s made faults-“

  “He can cast a patronus.” 

  Her eyes appeared to shoot out of their sockets. If there were any way to demonstrate a change of character that was surely one way to go about it. 

  “That shouldn’t be possible.” 

  “I know. But he can. A full corporal one too.” 

  Hermione fell back on her hands, taking in this new found information. 

  The young dark lord to be could cast a patronus. 

  “This could change everything , you realize that right?”

  Delilah nodded sharply, “that’s exactly why we’re here. The war.. it could finally be over. Imagine it.” 

  A sudden laugh broke from Hermione, it nearly sounded hysterical with how sharp it was. 

  The second wizarding war, actually over. Forever. 

  It sounded too good to be true. 

Chapter Text

  Tom thought he had seen pure loathing during the period where Delilah hated him. Maybe she still did, it wouldn’t be surprising. He surely thought nothing and no one could surpass that sheer level of resentment. 

  He was quickly proved wrong. 

  This was different, the air was thick with the mingled breath of fear and abhorrence. Tom gauged their expressions as he sat quietly, bound painfully to a wooden chair in some drafty room. He tried shifting to the best of his ability, but the ropes strained against his skin with a sharp sting.

  Tom supposed it was reasonable. After all, his apparent future self was responsible for the hell they were currently living in. Except now he appeared as nothing but a boy, the same age or younger than half of them. 

  They had been questioning him for what appeared to be hours. A back part of his mind kept drifting to Delilah, wondering if she was awake and okay. He was partly concerned she’d start bleeding out again, not trusting anyone there to help her properly but himself. 

  Over time he supposed he’s taken on a duty of care for her. 

  A headache was blooming, the questions being relentless. Kingsley was there and was accompanied by a man with red hair, littered in scars. After a few moments assessing the aged wounds he quickly drew the conclusion it’d been from a werewolf attack. 

  Curious.

  The questions were rather dull in his opinion. 

  Who are you? 

  He felt that was obvious. 

  How did you come into contact with Delilah Meddows?

  That one was vaguely complicated. 

  What do you know of the resistance? 

  From his perspective they looked like they were losing, which was a tad concerning. They seemed ignorant to the fact, blinded by misplaced optimism. Sure they had hope, but that’s anyone. Hope doesn’t win wars, despite all those silly little stories parents tell their children about at night. 

  Do you know who Albus Dumbledore is? 

  Unfortunately.

  Et cetera, et cetera. 

  Dull. 

  He answered them swiftly, not having to mull it over considering none of their inquiries dug at any of his underlying motives. He’d leave the task of telling them about their mission involving the Deathly Hallows up to Delilah. 

  The door opened, only then did Tom notice how silent outside seemed to be. Wards were put up, extensively. Walking in it was Harrison, he was tense but determined and his eyes didn’t draw away from Tom. 

  “Anything?” 

  “This is a rather tedious situation, we’re still treading on where to even begin.” 

  “Can we get Meddows down here?” Bill asked. He seemed young but painfully worn down with stress. 

  Harrison shook his head, “we’ll have to wait a bit longer, Granger said she’s still out. There’s something wrong with her though-,”

  “Perhaps I can enlighten you on the matter?” Tom suddenly spoke, causing the three men to whirl around. 

  They looked immensely placid at the notion of getting insight from him. Their body language was stiff, guarded, he could see their hands itching to grab their wands and hex him. Kill him even, if they were to be so bold. 

  Tom needed to navigate this clearly. Somehow he needed to not necessarily gain their trust- that he knew would be impossible given their time crunch- but to at least prove his point where his loyalty lied. 

  Which was with Delilah, and if he were to be so generous, by default it lied with the Order. 

  There was a fine line between self preservation and just being ignorant. Clearly the other version of himself, Voldemort, failed to recognize that. He recalled something he’d read in a book one late night in the library on muggle philosophy; allegory of the cave. Yes, that was it. He wondered if that’s what was happening within this pathetic little resistance. Were they choosing to ignore the obvious facts in front of them so they wouldn’t have to deal with the crushing weight of their impending failure?

  Or perhaps he was just severely pessimistic on their behalf. 

  He sighed through his nose, ignorance was a safety net he couldn’t afford. 

  “How could you help us? You’re him .” Harrison bit out, his jaw clenching so tightly Tom thought it would lock. 

  “Do I look like him?” He tilted his head to an angle, his hair falling in his eyes and in the dim lighting he really did appear just as an eighteen year old boy. There was a weight behind his eyes Kingsley didn’t miss though, Tom was tired. The exhaustion was nearly obvious. But under all that there was just a hint of unease that would even be seen as fear. 

  For himself? The older man wasn’t sure, but in the back of his head it said it was for the girl upstairs. 

   Delilah awoke with a groan, burying her head deeply into the pillow until she was forced to take a breath. There was a small laugh and she twisted around, blowing hair out of her eyes to see Hermione sat at her desk.

  “How long have I been out?” 

  “Nearly a day.” 

  “Christ,” she sighed as she turned to lay on her back, rubbing at her eyes that were still heavy with sleep. When she remembered Tom was downstairs, she forced herself to sit up and tried to best shake off the dizziness she felt. 

  Clearing her throat, her mouth was painfully dry and she was about to ask for some water before Hermione was already at her side with a glass. She gave her a warm smile and thankfully took the drink, the cool liquid sliding down her throat with a generous gulp. 

  “He isn’t being tortured, is he?” 

  Hermione sat down, choosing her words carefully. “Unless relentless questions count, then no. They haven’t let Harry anywhere near him. In fact they sent him out on some field work to let off some steam.” 

  “Harry doesn’t exactly think things through when he’s angry,” Delilah said and Hermione’s eyes met hers sharply. Though it wasn’t said, she got the hint. She really wasn’t the one to talk. After all she brought Tom Riddle to the future. 

  “You know you’re going to have to explain everything to everyone eventually, it might as well be now.” 

  “But-“

  “Delilah if you wait it’ll only be worse, or they’ll force you to talk. They won’t want to be patient either. You owe everyone answers.” 

  Biting her cheek, she wanted to roll her eyes but refrained. “Why are you always right?” 

  Her friend smiled, “I’m not always right.” 

  “Well you’re honest, they usually go hand in hand.”

  “My honesty has gotten me into a lot of trouble lately.” 

  Delilah’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean?” 

  Licking her lip, she lifted her legs onto the bed and hugged them to her chest. “Well there’s been a lot of arguments on how we were to move forward these past few months, since the ministry mission fell through. I had some ideas that might be a bit too progressive for everyone right now. Honesty isn’t always the most diplomatic approach.” 

  “What did you suggest?” 

  There was a heated pause as Hermione picked at the hem of her jumper, “that we stop taking prisoners.” 

  She got the hint that wasn’t all, “and?” 

  “Don’t think of me as terrible.”

  “‘Mione I’m the last person who would ever think that.”

  “Well, I mean to put it bluntly, during battles or if any sympathizers with the Dark Lord fell into our presence… I suggest the order to forcefully stripinformation or kill on sight.” 

  That took Delilah by surprise, causing her to stare at Hermione blankly for a few seconds. Hermione covered her face, “I know it sounds terrible but-“

  “No it’s not that,” she cut in, finally getting her wits about her. “We’re desperate. The world is. But I think you’re right, it’s too much of a step forward for them to consider I think. Even if they need to, I don’t know how everyone would be convinced. More than half of The Order is set in their ways and I don’t think they’d be willing to stray away from their morals.” 

  “Exactly! Merlin, that’s so refreshing to hear,” Hermione fell backwards and her hair fluffed out around her. “I can’t even tell you the amount of screaming matches Ron and I had at each other over this, it was awful. He made me feel so disgusted with myself for even suggesting it. But think how many lives we’d save.” 

  Right, how many lives they could save. With Tom now on their side, or at least she prayed to the fates that he truly was, they could save thousands. 

  “Hermione?”

  “Hm?”

  “How does this change things? With Tom, I mean. Him being here?” 

  Turning to perch herself up on her side, Hermione’s brows furrowed as she thought it over. 

   Everyone gathered in the downstairs kitchen, some sitting and some standing, staring at Delilah expectantly. 

  Who of which was wringing her hands nervously behind her back, partially rocking back and forth on her feet. Hermione stood at her side, her gaze heated as she looked at Harry as a silent ‘behave’. 

  Looking off to her left, Tom stood leaning against the wall. He looked annoyed as far as she could tell but he kept his expressions at bay. They’d put some sort of magic dampener around his left wrist, the silver material looked as if it was melted into his skill. It essentially limited his abilities to only basic magic, and they had taken away his wand. 

  Personally, he didn’t think it was necessary. But he understood. If it helped them sleep a little easier he didn’t blame them. 

  Clearing her throat, she looked at everyone again before starting on her long, and surely confusing story of what happened to her. 

  Throughout her explanation, there were many furrowed brows, sounds of exasperation and shock, disgust, some small laughs, and she didn’t even know how many questions were thrown at her. Hermione tried to help, but no one would even look in Tom’s general direction. 

  Despite himself he wasn’t used to being so acutely ignored. He was typically always the center of attention, or close to it. 

  Everyone appeared to be actively trying to ignore his existence. 

  Harry wasn’t giving much away of what he thought, however at every mention of Dumbledore there was a slight stirring of some harbored emotion in his green eyes. 

  Finally, Cormac asked that question that was weighing in everyone’s hearts. 

  “How can the future not be changed?” 

  Hermione stepped forward, beginning on her long explanation of her theory about how she believed time was a forward progression. “This had to have already happened,” she finished with. 

  There was a long pause as everyone tried to comprehend this when Tom shook his head, “it can’t have.” 

  Everyone flinched, turning to watch him careful and some had even grabbed their wands. One of them being Harry, a spell to render him unconscious surely on his tongue.

  Tom ignored them all, his eyes trailing to Delilah for a moment before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to them all. He spotted one girl with white hair and the oddest of earrings, they looked like radishes. 

  She didn’t look at him with anger or fear, he couldn’t explain it. She had a sort of passive, dreamy state about her. It was mildly unsettling. 

  “I don’t believe anything is set in stone, time isn’t a strict line. We know that because time travel is possible and we’re able to move back and forth. Although Miss Granger’s theory could make sense on a series of different levels, there’s also a high probability of contradiction. No choices can be predicted.” 

  Tom took a pause, gauging their reaction to see if everyone was following along. For the most part they were, but there were still a few confused looks. Most also seemed reluctant to even be listening to him. Nonetheless he continued. 

  “What if we’ve split the timeline? Coexisting, but now separate? What the final result is, is still up for debate now that there’s new factors to take into account. Perhaps in the original where Delilah didn’t get sent back in time, the ‘original’ history took its course. But now…” he gestured to himself. “You have a new card to play.” 

  “Brilliant.” Hermione blurted before she thought better of it, catching a glare from Ron. 

  “In reality though, we have to recognize we won’t truly know. We can’t know if this was always meant to happen or not. The events are already taking place now, we can’t back track them, not in our reality.” Tom’s eyes trailed to his clever little witch again, his lips quirking up to the side though no one noticed but her. 

  “Anything can happen.”

Chapter Text

  After the meeting, Delilah only had mere moments to talk to Tom and she wasn’t keen to waste any time. As many members discussed what had been presented to them, she rushed over towards him and restrained herself from reaching out to hold his hand. 

  Instead she glanced down at his wrists, “how are you coping with that?” He sighed through his nose before looking down at her, “how do you think? I feel like a squib.” His eyes turned away again and she followed his gaze, landing on Harry who seemed adamant on ignoring both of them.

  “He won’t speak to me," she muttered.

  Tom hummed, his hand twitching in the reflex of wanting to grab hold of her but he kept his fist clenched at his side. “You should go and talk with him.”

  Turning back to him her lips quirked, “it’s not that easy.”

  “It was with me. You’re stubborn, it was hard to avoid you.”

  “Hilarious.” 

  His eyes glimmered for a moment before gesturing back towards Harry with his head, “go on.”

  Delilah didn’t have time to oppose as Kingsley made his way over with Bill and they led Tom out of the room, undoubtedly to bound him again and ask him more questions. She watched him till his form disappeared around the corner before turning to find Harry. 

  Her shoulders slumped when she realized he’d left the room. 

  Ginny was suddenly at her side, making the girl flinch and the red head rested a hand on her arm. “He went up to his room, I calmed him down for the time being so I recommend you talk to him now.” Her voice was stiff and she wasn’t meeting her eyes.

  Delilah’s heart dropped, she hadn’t even thought of how Ginny was taking this. Seeing Tom again. It didn’t occur to mind that he was the one who possessed her back in her second year. Noted Delilah hadn’t known at the time, she didn’t find out till this past year. Still, she should’ve remembered. It was selfish of her. 

  “Ginny-”

  “Go talk to Harry, I’m fine.” With a tight smile, she left her standing there. 

  Licking her dried lips, she took a breath before knocking on his door. There was no answer and she closed her eyes, resting her palm against the wood. “Harry… Harry it’s me. Please open the door.” 

  Nearly two minutes of silence. 

  “Harry-”

  The door swung open and her eyes blinked in surprise before guilt overtook her features. He was angry at her, that was certain due to the rage in his green eyes. But he was containing it, keeping his face as neutral as he could. Though his jaw clenched. 

  “Can I talk to you? Please?”

  He stared at her for a moment before his gaze shifted to the ground, he nodded once and stepped aside. 

  Slowly she entered, wrapping her arms around herself as her eyes flickered around the room. She smiled a bit at the sight of Ginny’s things, one of her Weasley jumpers hung on the back of a chair. 

  The door clicked shut behind her and she turned, Harry was leaning against the door with arms crossed. 

  “What is it?”

  Delilah opened and closed her mouth several times. She knew apologizing seemed pointless, but she did it anyway.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She could tell he wanted to roll his eyes. 

  “Harry, I am sorry. I don’t know how to fully encompass everything, but I am. And if it could be any other way, of him not being here, of it not having to have come to this, I’d wish for it in a heartbeat.”

  At that he scoffed, his eyes narrowing into a glare behind his glasses. “I saw how he jumped to your defense. How you jumped to his...I saw how happy you looked in that photo - how?”

  “What photo?”

  “Hermione discovered an old Hogwarts yearbook from the forties, you were in it. Just graduated. How was that, might I ask? Must’ve been nice. Was a bit of a shock seeing you so happy and you know, alive.” His tone was of bitter indifference and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

  “Harry-”

  “I don’t want a full sob story, Meddows. Just tell me why.” 

  Her heart hurt with the sting of his words. But she didn’t blame him. If she were in his shoes she’d never forgive him. 

  “He’s not You-Know-Who.”

  A dry laugh left his lips and he shook his head, “fuck… are you serious right now?”

  “He’s not, he isn’t.” Her voice was steady and she met his gaze coolly. “He’s dedicated himself to helping the Order, he’s willing to give information that will benefit us in the war effort. He can even cast a patronus, that isn’t supposed to be possible-”

  “I don’t give a damn if he can cast one, Meddows. That person, that thing down stairs,” he took a step forward and gestured towards the door, venom on his tongue. “Is Tom Riddle, whether you accept it or not what he’ll become. What he’ll always become.” 

  Delilah gulped, ready to fire back to try to make him understand but he shook his head and stepped closer. 

  “You care for him, I can see that. And I won’t shy away from saying it disgusts me. But I know I won’t change your mind, you’re as stubborn as I am.” His jaw clenched as he tried to read the pain etched onto her features. He didn’t even recognize her. “Tom will turn on us, he’ll turn on us all. And he’ll turn on you. Whether or not it’s soon or down the line. God help you when you realize I’m right. God help us all.” 

  He looked at her for another hard moment before walking back to his door and opening it, “you can go now.” 

  Delilah didn’t move for a moment, trying to grasp what he had just told her. 

  “Will you ever forgive me?”

  Her voice cut through the air and it sunk into Harry, gripping at his heart with sharp claws. Delilah had always been a friend to him. They weren’t terribly close, not like he was with Ginny, Ron, or Hermione. But she’d always been there, willing to go to the ends of the earth if it meant helping him. 

  Harry had always been thankful to her for that. But now he wondered if she went too far, losing herself in the process and falling into the likes of Riddle. Of Lord Voldemort. And it all led to her trying to help him and the world.

  It all tied back to him. 

  Part of himself said not everything was about him, but a large portion of this war was. 

  He returned her gaze heatedly, “Delilah,” he began slowly and took a breath. 

  “I’ll only begin to trust him if he helps kill himself. Even then that won’t ever be enough. Nothing ever will be. He-”

  He killed his parents.

  The sentence was left unsaid but it hung in the air. 

  The next day they were sat in the kitchen, Tom only allowed out of his bonds if he was supervised by a higher ranked Order member. It became clear to Delilah that they didn’t trust her anymore. At least not to the extent they did before. 

  She was emotionally compromised. 

  Tom and her made strained conversation, not exactly being able to talk of anything of importance with so many burning ears. She watched him as he picked at the bracelet on his wrist. 

  “Is it uncomfortable?”

  “I can hardly feel it, but magically it makes me feel sort of numb.”

  Delilah offered him her best smile, she knew this was hard for him. Tom prided himself in his magic, it was his entire life and it had been stripped away. He was handling it remarkably well. “I can see about getting them off soon.”

  He shook his head, “it’d be pointless, they’d never agree. I’m seen as a threat. I’m surprised they haven’t killed me yet.”

  “It’s not in the Order’s nature.”

  Tom looked at her for a moment, “no, it’s not. But it’s in yours.” 

  She bit her cheek and glanced down at the table, messing with her fork since she’d lost her appetite. 

  Suddenly the front door banged open and everyone flinched, wands at the ready before a voice rang out. One that was familiar and missed and her heart suddenly warmed. 

  “Delilah!” at the sound of Blaise’s voice she shot up, her chair toppling over. 

  Before she could make it to the doorway, he appeared in front of her, looking the same as ever and a grin broke through her features. Blaise stopped at the sight of her, a halting moment of joy and shock running through both of them before they broke out into a laugh.

  He picked her up in a hug, spinning her around and the two talked over each other in a rush of incomprehensible words. 

  “Merlin, you’re alive.” He breathed out, holding her head into his neck as his eyes closed in relief. Delilah squeezed him tightly once more before he set her down. She was smiling but then her brows furrowed as she looked up at him. “How did you-”

  “A lot changed in the time you were gone, it was only sooner or later before I was approached by the Order since I wasn’t sworn to You-Know-Who.”

  At the mention of his future self, Tom shifted in his seat. He couldn’t help the jealousy that pricked at his sides.

  He hadn’t been able to touch Delilah freely since they got there. Something a few months ago he would’ve never believed he’d miss. 

  It was a longing inside of him he wasn’t used to. And now with his wand and most of his magic gone, the absence of her was felt even deeper. 

  Delilah had become a much bigger part of him than he’d ever anticipated. 

  He didn’t know whether or not to hate himself over the fact, but he knew he needed her. 

  Tom clenched his jaw when something told him that he was even desperate for her. 

  He needed his magic back, without it his mind was wandering much too far. There were fewer distractions and everything just seemed to be Delilah.

  Delilah. Delilah. Delilah.  

  Last night he woke up muttering her name.

  She was living stubbornly in his head and his heart now. 

  And he had no more defenses to push her out.

Chapter Text

  Hearing the noise, Harry made his way downstairs and nodded in greeting to Blaise. The two weren’t anywhere near friends, they never would be. But he recognized they were on the same side. 

  When his eyes landed on Tom however, his jaw clenched and he turned back around to go into the war room. 

  Tom sighed, not surprised, but he wondered if there was any way he’d be able to talk to the boy. An apology would never suffice, he knew that it would probably only get himself hexed. He tried to insert himself into Harry’s mindset. What would he do if the person responsible for all his pain was suddenly brought forth, but he couldn’t enact revenge?

  He would go mental, and if he were being honest, he’d act out regardless.

  He wasn’t able to connect further beyond that. His future self had killed Harry’s parents.

  Sure, his own were dead, but he was responsible for both of their passings. He killed his mother in childbirth and murdered his father. For years he thought they might be the source of his suffering, or what he thought might be suffering. It was hatred. But after he killed his father he still felt it deeper in his bones, it’d be with him forever. The feeling even stronger since he’d split his soul. 

  Part of him wondered if just trying to talk to Harry would be a good idea, perhaps try to convince him he was there to aid the Order. He shook his head, Tom knew that wasn’t what the boy wanted. 

  Harry wanted him dead. 

  Tom’s eyes returned back to Delilah and this boy who she apparently knew, it was obvious they were close. Blaise was his name, and his eyes burned a bit when he noticed his hands rested on her hips for a moment. It wasn’t a long interaction between the two, but it felt like it. 

  It was clear she missed him, and that part at the back of Tom’s head wondered if they used to be something more. Their body language was apparent. 

  His jaw clenched at the thought of them being previous lovers. This jealousy felt like a disease in his chest, he’d never been jealous before. Not over someone else. He wanted this sensation gone and tried to reassure himself Delilah was his. He probably knew her better than anyone else, surely he’s seen more of her than anyone in this pathetic little resistance of theirs.

  They’d shown each other their true colors long ago.

  Delilah was still hiding a part of herself from them, that dangerous part that could reign hell on anything beloved. 

  To them she was just another fighter in the war, collateral damage. Yes, he knew they cared for her. But there was only so much room for keeping personal relationships and grieving during a time like this. 

  They had thought she died and moved on. To Tom he thought with little difficulty, which he took issue with. 

  He snapped out of his when he felt her eyes on him. 

  Blaise was staring at him, “so that’s… him.”

  Delilah nodded, watching her friend closely. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, Blaise was always careful with his words. Back at Hogwarts he never talked much, he was the mysterious one in Malfoy’s inner circle. It was a surprise to everyone when it became known they were friends.

  No one ever found out about their few escapades of having sex, though. 

  She'd like to keep it that way.

  Finally he looked down at her, “can we talk in private?”

  Delilah looked to Tom for a moment, they barely had any time with each other now. But she hadn’t seen Blaise in months. “Yeah, c’mon.”

  Tom’s stomach churned a bit as he watched them leave, not a moment later Harrison and Bill yanked him up to his feet by his arms. 

  “Free time’s over.”

  He was led down the hall, but when they passed the room he’d previously been held in his brow rose. Instead of being intimidated he was rather curious, wondering what they could possibly have in store for him. They turned and Harrison opened a door, looking down it was an old set of stairs and darkness could only be seen below. 

  He was shoved down the steps harshly, nearly losing his footing but he kept himself up right. 

  Once they reached the bottom, he was then shoved forward, Tom caught himself only when his shoulder rammed into something hard and cold, the ache shooting up his side and he exhaled a breath through his nose with a grunt. 

  Seconds later there was the sound of creaking and the echo of metal slamming shut. A light then flickered and his eyes flickered around his surrounding. Annoyance and a bit of anger creeping up the base of his skull when he noted he was placed into a cell. Though it more resembled a cage. The metal rods cemented into the middle of the floor and there was only a singular light above him. 

  To his left there was a mat, a bucket he could only assume was his bathroom, and an empty desk. 

  He wasn’t alone. Harrison, Cormac, Bill, Kingsley, and that Ron boy were in the room, watching carefully as if he were an animal. 

  “I suppose my being in here is a comfort?”

  As soon as he spoke he stilled, his voice was trapped within the cell, bouncing around him like a ricocheted bullet and only seemed to get louder before eventually dwindling. They couldn’t hear him, he was trapped alone with himself. 

  Kingsley then waved his wand and Tom saw a glimmer ripple over the cage. 

  “You will be confined here until further notice.”

  “Did you approve of this?” Tom asked, he wanted to ask if Delilah knew about it but thought best against it. He could only hope she'd never approve of anything like this, he would've been able to tell if she was keeping something from him.

  Then again, she was able to keep his own fate away from him.

  He couldn't help the doubt chewing at his stomach. 

  Did she know about this?

  “It was voted upon, for the safety of the Order, I’d say this is minor at best seeing as you pose a threat to the resistance.”

  Tom hated this, he hated all of it. But he knew there was no way to change their mind. So instead he gave them a slight smile, just to throw them off, and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “Very well.”

  Kingsley considered him for a moment. Looking at Tom he knew he wasn’t the monster they were currently fighting, not yet at least. He was just a boy, the same age as Harry. But he couldn’t take any risks, he knew the potential danger Tom possessed if they weren’t careful about this. He sighed through his nose as he thought about Meddows, they’d need to question her soon. Something wasn’t sitting right. 

  “You’re young, foolish, and dare I say it you have the potential to save us.” 

  Ron looked like he was about to argue but Kingsley held up his hand. He stepped closer to his cage, eyeing Tom with a calm disposition. In some way the man reminded Tom of Dumbledore. 

  “But heed this young man, all that power you have. The power that we stripped from you-”

  Tom’s fists clenched at this behind his back. 

  “It is derived from rage and pain, such a weighty amount no man your age should ever have to carry. But that power is the weakest power a man can have.” 

  A heated silence passed between them before Kingsley bowed his head and stepped back, that glimmer passing over the bars again and Tom was trapped in his own prison of silence. 

  Kingsley said something to Bill but he wasn't able to discern it, only he caught the smirk Harrison sent his way before they all left.

  Please, he begged to no one but himself, please tell me you had nothing to do with this. 

  What if it was all a lie? What if she had preformed so well she even fooled him. Roping him to the future so he could be detained, controlled, killed. All for the sake of the war. 

  Please tell me you didn't know.

  What if she'd used him? It would be her greatest revenge for all the suffering he would cause her and the world in the future. 

  Delilah had made him care and - he felt dizzy - perhaps she exploited his new disadvantage. 

  Tom felt he couldn't put it past her. He knew she was capable of many twisted and great things. She's killed before, how is this any different? How is this any worse?

  He couldn't breathe. 

  Falling against the bars, he sucked in air harshly but it felt like nothing was getting in. 

  Was he having a panic attack?

  "Delilah," he breathed hoarsely, her name swirled around him in the air, trapped around him.

  Tom had never been loved, he didn't know what it properly looked like. How was he supposed to know if her love was true? Yes, maybe he has seen her true delf. Maybe he's the only one who has, and that version of her could be capable of this. 

  He couldn't master his doubt like he always had been able too. 

  All his rules, all his guidelines that he followed to protect himself... he'd broken all of them for her. 

  Tom slid to the floor, heaving with this crushing realization he didn't want to be true. 

  He couldn't block the thoughts out, not without his magic.

  Trapped with himself was possibly one of the worst things imaginable to him right now.

  I shouldn't have come.

  Blaise and Delilah had been sitting in the small study at the safe house, though it was a bit larger due to a charm to house more books on advanced healing. They’d just been catching up on simple things, such as Blaise’s recruitment and Delilah talked about a few things from the past. 

  “You remind me of Cain,” she mused, curled up on one of the chairs as he sat across from in another, his back to the fire making him glow. 

  “Is he wickedly charming?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She mused, but her smile fell as she thought back to them all.

  “When did you get that necklace?"

  At him mentioning it, it seemed to burn into her skin. “Oh this, it was a gift.” She forced out, suddenly feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. Blaise quirked a brow, “from a boy?” He teased but his playful manner dropped at her crestfallen expression. 

  “Was he the one who…?”

  Delilah nodded mutely. 

  “I’m sorry.” 

  Sniffing, she shook her head. Trying to get the image of Elio’s bloody smile out of her head. 

  “How’s Draco?”

  Blaise leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering as he thought back to his best friend. 

  “I rarely see him.”

  “Still? How long has it been?”

  “Sixth months.” 

  “Is he… do you if he ever got the mark? I know Harry had his suspicions back in sixth year.”

  He sighed through his nose, looking at her pointedly and her heart sank. 

  “No.”

  “He didn’t have much choice.”

  “He couldn’t have tried to run?”

  “Delilah, they had his mother. You know he’d go to hell and back for her. If he would’ve delayed or refused they would’ve used her to get to him. You-Know-Who made sure of it.” 

  At the mention of Voldemort they both stiffened and Blaise's eyes trailed to the door before looking back at her with a heavy gaze. 

  “How could you bring him back here?” 

  She could tell he was having a difficult time keeping his voice void of judgement. 

  “He can help us.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I trust him.”

  “He’s Tom Riddle,” exasperation was creeping into his tone, blinking at her in disbelief. 

  Her eyes cast down as she messed with the sleeve of one of Hermione’s jumpers she let her borrow. 

  “I trust him.”

  “That’s not an answer, not one I’ll accept. What aren’t you telling me?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her forehead against them. She was so tired. “Not tonight, Blaise.”

  He stared at her for a long moment before she sensed him get up, flinching when he rested a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but she felt as if she could read his thoughts.

  Blaise didn’t know her anymore, not really.

  The only one who did was downstairs. 

Chapter Text

   After she worked up the courage to leave the study, Delilah headed back downstairs to the kitchen. Tom, that was the only person she wanted to see right now. 

  Of course she missed Blaise and was elated with seeing him again. But she hadn’t realized the toll it would take on her. She hadn’t seen him for nearly a year and it almost felt as if they were strangers. Strangers who once knew each other, but not any more. There seemed to be a wall between them she hadn’t the energy to break it down. 

  Stopping in the kitchen doorway, his seat was empty. 

  “Dean?” she called.

  “Hm?” He was currently stocking up the cupboard with potions.

  “Have you seen - where did they take him? Back to his room?”

  “I would assume so.”

  “You didn’t see them?”

  He sighed and turned to look at her, the war had aged him. His eyes were heavier than she remembered and there were a few new scars littering his features. 

  “I don’t exactly want to look at him.”

  Her heart hurt at what Tom being here was doing to everybody. She knew she wouldn’t ever get them to understand that he wasn’t like that creature yet. Voldemort robbed all of them from their youths. She didn’t blame them. 

  A moment of silence passed and she gave him a mute smile and nod before turning around. Bill and her brother are typically the ones who move him, so she headed to her Harrison's room.

  Delilah would just head to where he had been being held, but no one would tell her which room. She tried searching all of them the night before but came up fruitless, there were probably wards around it to keep people away. Most notably her and Harry. 

  Annoyance flickered when Harrison’s room was empty, as well as panic due to her mother being sat at the desk inside. Quickly and quietly, she shut the door and continued down the hall. 

  She’d been successful in avoiding them for the most part and she preferred to keep it that way. Delilah had never been fond of her parents, and she knew they didn’t particularly like her either. They loved her, yes. But didn’t like her. 

  Eventually she knocked on Hermione’s door, who thankfully answered a few seconds later. 

  “Have you seen Harrison?”

  “He’s out on a scouting mission, for a new safe house location.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  Hermione’s brows furrowed, “no, why?”

  Delilah peaked around her and her friend shook her head, “Ron’s in the war room with Harry, it’s okay.” Stepping aside, she let the girl in the room and Delilah took to sitting on the edge of the bed. 

  “Hermione, please answer me truthfully.”

  Giving her a concerned look, she sat next to Delilah and rested a hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”

  “Do you know what room they’re holding Tom in? Please, I just need to see him for a few minutes and then I’ll go. No one will know I was there.”

  “Delilah you know I can’t-”

  “So you know where he is then?” The desperation in her voice was nearly painful. 

  Hermione bit her lip but shook her head, “I don’t know what room, I just know Kingsley is in charge of his holding. Where Tom was kept was under strict need to know. I don’t blame them for not telling me, Merlin knows Harry would’ve found some way to get it out of me.”

  Delilah shoulders slumped, but she nodded. She knew he’d be alright, he could handle himself. Besides, the Order wasn’t cruel. Surely they weren’t torturing him. The past few times she’s seen him he appeared alright. 

 She needed to get a hold of herself. The clock was ticking and they had a job to do, she couldn’t wait around until they decided to let Tom out of his room again. 

  “I need to speak to Ron and Harry, all three of you. It’s important.”

   When they entered the war room, Harry only spared Delilah a glance before looking down at the multiple maps spread out across the table. 

  She immediately regretted this, it was always easier with Tom by her side. The weight of his absence felt crushing now - she felt stupid. 

  Hermione nudged her forward, though. Shooting her an encouraging glance and Delilah cleared her throat. “Um…” she scratched at the back of her neck. “I need to tell you all something, well- the main reason I’m even here really. And why I brought him.”

  Ron looked up finally, circles hanging beneath his eyes, stark against his pale skin. His freckles had seemed to fade more and more over the years, looking less like himself. “What do you mean?”

  “Well-” she trailed, merlin why was this so difficult? Harry looked up at her through his glasses and her words felt like bile in her throat. 

   Just spit it out , she could hear Tom telling her. 

  So she did. 

  “Do any of you know about the Deathly Hallows?”

  The trio stiffened, all eyeing one another, and the silence that draped over the room gave Delilah her answer. She knew they did, but she didn’t want to come right out with it. Part of her was relieved, the other half concerned with their expressions - or if they would tell her anything. 

  “So is that a yes, then?” she urged, looking expectantly at Hermione.

  The girl's mouth opened and closed a few times, her arms wrapped around herself as she looked between Ron and Harry. “How did you… what do you want to know?”

  “Well that’s the thing, that's why we’re here, I mean. We need to find them, either here in the future, but if not, we find the locations of where they were and go back-”

  “You’re going back ?” Ron cut in, blinking at her as if she’d just slapped him. 

  Harry just stared, his jaw looking tight and his eyes glowing - he looked like he wanted to hit her with something. Delilah wouldn’t blame him if he did. Biting her lip, she pressed her hands to the table as if to anchor herself down, “listen, I promised Dumbledore. I don’t have a choice.” 

  That seemed to run a shockwave through the room, making them all appear to attention. Hermione stood up a bit straighter, “Dumbledore knew about all of this?”

  “I think so… I mean, during that speech he gave in sixth year. It felt like a direct warning to me, about Tom. And when I got sent back in time he helped me find a way, but not just as a one way trip and done. He gave me a job to do, and he told me to take Tom with. So it must be important-”

  “You never even liked Dumbledore,” Harry said, his voice sharp and he’d crossed his arms, staring down at her. “Why trust his judgement?”

  Delilah’s eyes narrowed, “why do you? Harry I know we’ve never agreed on everything, but with Dumbledore it’s always been concrete, you know that.” He knew she was right, but the whole concept made his head hurt and he looked away stubbornly. 

  Ron sighed, rubbing at his eyes as he leaned against the far wall that had maps scattered all over it. “She’s right Harry, Dumbledore wouldn’t have sent him back here without a reason. Now what’s all this about the Deathly Hallows? Why are you looking for them?”

  She bit her cheek, this was going to sound daft.

  “To defeat Grindelwald.”

  Hermione let out a spluttered laugh that sounded more like a cough, “I beg your pardon?”

  “I know it’s mad-”

  “Yeah, it’s completely mental. Do you really expect me to believe that?” Harry bit.

  Her brows furrowed, “why would I lie?”

  “Oh I don’t know, why would you bring in the young version of the man who killed my parents-”

  “Harry-” Hermione tried to reason but Delilah shook her head. “No it’s fine, I get it.”

  Looking back at him, her eyes settled and it felt as if someone dropped hot coals down her throat but she forced herself to keep going. “Harry, I don’t expect you to forgive me, okay? I don’t expect any of you to, and that’s fine as well. Right now that doesn’t matter, this is so much bigger. I need you to understand that. Not just this war will be affected, but the last. Time is a fucking mess right now and on my life I know it’s my fault. But I made a promise to Dumbledore, I need to get the Deathly Hallows- or at least find out where they were in the forties. I need to, many lives depend on it. As well as yours. I need to do this for all of you and everyone else, past and present. I don’t care about me, that’s not what’s important. Grindelwald if after all three of them now, he already has the elder wand. This is a new factor that wasn’t in play before.” 

  Harry ducked his head down, his hand reaching up to absentmindedly rub at his scar. He hated her right now, but something was telling him she was right- whatever this was, this war… he already knew it wasn’t just about him. But this only seemed to multiply it by ten. 

  Sighing, he turned to look at her, Ron, then Hermione, and back again. He trusted Dumbledore, no matter how infuriating it was at times, no matter how confusing. He had to, Harry didn’t feel he had much choice. 

  “What exactly do you need?”

  Delilah gnawed at her lip, “I know you have the cloak… after a bit of digging I realized you’re related to the Peverell line.”

  He tensed and she shook her head, “I’m not asking to take it, not unless it’s absolutely necessary. If we can find out where your grandfather was in the year that I left I can get it then and then return it afterwards.” Well, she could only hope. 

  The trio looked at each other again, trying to swallow this new weight that had been added to their hell. 

  After a moment Harry nodded once, the movement quick and sharp, “I understand.”

   He had calmed himself down from his panic attack by trying to do that breathing technique he had taught Delilah. It felt pathetic- he felt pathetic. Tom hadn’t spiraled like that since he was a child, back at the orphanage. 

  Nights in that decrepit building were always the worst, especially in his youth. The walls seemed to breathe down his neck, the floors creaking just to set off his nerves. 

  Tom Riddle was a very lonely boy.

  He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of Wool’s, turning his ring over in his hands a few times, pure boredom creeping in but he felt exhausted. Sweat still glistened at his brow but all he could do was stare at the cracked ceiling. 

  “You look dreadful.”

  He turned to stone at the voice- no . 

  His eyes slid to the side, slowly, a breath barely passing his lips as he looked at where the voice had come from. He felt cold.

  “Have I finally gone mad?” he muttered to himself.

  “I think you went mad a long time ago, Riddle.” Elio mused.

  Tom blinked, his eyes felt heavy at the movement, as if everything had gone in slow-motion. This wasn’t actually Elio, it couldn’t be. The longer he looked at him, though the lighting was dim and poor, he could see the bars partly through Elio. The boy taking on a grey-silver hue. 

  “Are- how? What?”  

  Tom Riddle was lost for words.

  Elio smiled, leaning against the bars and he looked around the cell, amusement pulling at his brows. “They certainly did a number on you,” he mumbled. Tom was still staring at him, the late Rosier found it rather comical, if he were to be honest. 

  “How are you here?” Tom finally managed, sitting up. His throat felt like gravel, “am I having a psychotic break?” 

  Elio laughed, short and sharp. Something Tom hadn’t felt in a while nudged at his ribs- guilt. 

  “I don’t think so, but how would I know?” He then held up his own hand, watching in curiosity how he could see Tom’s face through his palm. “I don’t know how or why I’m here, this is your doing.”

  Tom felt like throwing up, but he managed to just clear his throat. Biting his cheek he forced himself to look at Elio.

  “I’m… I’m sorry-”

  Elio shook his head, “don’t”

  “I am, truly.” 

  He didn’t answer, instead he merely looked around again. “So this is the future?”

  “For the most part,” Tom leaned his back against the bars from his place on the floor.

  Elio tsk-d, “it’s pretty shit.”

  A small laugh broke from Tom, “I suppose it is.”

  “And Delilah?”

  Tom sighed through his nose, “I don’t know where she is.”

  “Is she okay?”

  There was a pause, “I hope.

  “Well, I can only assume she told you then?”

  Tom quirked a brow, “you knew?”

  “I did… don’t be mad at her. She was scared.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  Elio’s head tilted to the side, “I know, it’s quite odd. You look different.”

  “How? It hasn’t been that long since you- well, yeah.”

  Another beat of silence and Elio looked down, “yeah.” Walking over, he sat down on the mat next to Tom, though there was no indent, seeing as he actually wasn’t there. Tom wasn’t sure if he were a ghost or merely a figment of his imagination. He supposed it didn’t matter either way. 

  For a long while, or perhaps it was only minutes, they just stared forward. Watching how the dust in the air circled. 

  Tom wondered if this was some sort of trick his mind was playing on him. Just dealing him one hell after another. Part of him feared if this would be a chain, what if all the people he felt responsible for, or at least their deaths, started appearing to him? Would Rosie be next? Then Myrtle, his father, his mother…

  “Take care of her, will you?”

  Tom turned to look at Elio, he’d gotten more hazy, the bitter cold fading into a dull chill. The boy returned his gaze, his eyes no longer a pale green, they were just.. empty. A mere sheen of what once existed. 

  “Promise me, Riddle. Take care of her.”

  His jaw clenched, his throat feeling tight. 

  “I will.”

  And he was gone.

  Glancing down, the magical restraints had been broken off his wrists. The grin that grew on his features was sharp as it cut into his lips, he could feel the magic thrumming around him again. Could feel it sinking into his skin, making his bones vibrate in a low hum. 

  Elio never did cease to surprise him, even in death.

Chapter Text

Tom feigned being asleep, laying on the pathetic mat on the floor with his head propped up on the lumpy pillow, arms crossed behind him.

He kept rerunning the event of seeing Elio the night before. How he was just a shadow, but not quite a ghost, He didn't know what it was, could apparitions travel across space time? Was it just a figment of his imagination? Then how would that explain him breaking free of the bracelets on his wrists? Maybe even then that was just his own magic projecting.

The train of thought was interrupted as the sound of the door creaking open met his ears. Shortly followed by a sharp tap on the bars. "Mornin' sunshine," Harrison mused, looking down at him with some small bitter enjoyment. Tom cracked one eye open, looking at the boy. Him and Delilah looked pretty similar, though his hair was a darker shade of blonde and his eyes were more on the hazel side.

"Good morning," he greeted calmly, the bracelets were still on his wrists, though bound there by his own magic now. He could've easily slipped away last night, breaking through the defenses of his cage even without a wand. But he had to think carefully about this, he needed their trust. Or at least some scrap of it. And Merlin knows how difficult it would've been to drag Delilah along with him discretely. The girl always found a way to make noise.

He smiled slightly despite himself at the memory of them in Ravenclaw tower. Tom wasn't a virgin before that escapade but Delilah certainly made him feel reborn.

"Someone has requested your presence, hopefully he doesn't end up bashing your head in." Harrison tsk-d, "though to be fair it'd be quite amusing if he did." As he made work to undo the lock Tom sat up, humming to himself. He was sure he was talking about Harry. Wondering what the boy could possibly want.

Maybe Delilah talked to him, convinced him. If she did he'd be a bit surprised, not to cut her short of credit but she wasn't the most well versed person in making such deals.

Harrison led him upstairs, the position a bit awkward due to Tom having the advantage of height on him. They went up another flight of stairs, Tom observing rooms as they went wondering which could possibly hold Delilah. Besides trying to convince the Order of his innocence, or at least prove he was helpful, he wondered what she'd been up to. Reconnecting with her friends, family. His mind trailed to Blaise, but shook his head. He felt secure in the fact that Delilah only wanted him. Though part of him worried, for a small moment, what if she no longer wanted to leave?

His quite frankly embarrassing panic attack came to mind, how his mind spiraled. Fearing she'd just leave him in there to rot. In a small cube of cement and thin cloth. Far too similar to how he felt as a boy at Wool's. Before he knew the true fate of his mother, he genuinely believed she'd left him in that orphanage to wither away.

  In a way she had.

Tom kept having to remind himself Delilah wanted him just as much as he did her. It was the only thing keeping his mind at bay.

Harrison opened a door and led Tom in, the lighting dim due to blinds being drawn and candles floated in the air. Harry was leaned against a far table, alone. Tom raised a brow at Harrison, but the boy said nothing and shut the door, leaving the two to themselves.

Part of him wondered if this was some scheme to kill him off. It was he had to give them light appraisal, he didn't think they were capable. Lately people have been surprising him.

Harry stayed at a distance, his arms crossed against his chest and holding his wand tightly. His eyes were startlingly green, staring at him behind his glasses with such strong ferocity.

Keeping his hands behind his back, Tom cleared his throat and kept his face neutral. Giving the silence another moment before starting, "I know it's not my place, or perhaps it is. I take full responsibility for any of the harm that's come not just your way but everyone else. I'm sorry." Even to his ears it sounded like bullshit, he just hoped Harry would see it differently.

Though based on the way the boy's jaw clenched he wasn't so sure.

Harry's mind was reeling, still trying to comprehend who was in front of him. That darker part of himself whispered how easy it would be to just kill him then and there. Watching him drop to the floor like a sack of damp flour with no life in his eyes.

  How easy. But if what Delilah said was true... if Dumbledore really had a plan he had to trust it. What other option did they have? The Order was hanging off a frayed rope at this point.

He regarded Tom for a few more moments. It was strange, usually Harry felt such a searing pain in his scar when Voldemort was near but with him... there was nothing. Not even an ache. Though it was small, he couldn't deny the shimmer of hope that ignited in his chest. Maybe, just maybe they could do it.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his messy hair. "I didn't call you in hear to hear an apology, let alone accept one."

Tom nodded, he wasn't expecting him to.

"Delilah proposed an idea, it sounds outlandish," Harry began. Tom refrained from chuckling. "But at the moment we're out of options and she's adamant you're a helpful tool." Now she never worded it that way, but Harry subconsciously had the goal to chip at Tom in any way he could. There was something between them, he didn't know what and he didn't care to entertain the thought.

Walking to the door, careful to keep some distance between them, he opened it and called down the hall.

A few moments later Kingsley, Ron, Hermione, and Delilah came through the door. The moment her eyes landed on him she wanted to jump on him and hug him. It'd only been a day, as needy as that might make her sound but the two had grown rather attached without them noticing. They've always been in each other's company, always knew where the other was. The sudden split felt like a punch to the gut for her.

Instead she spared him the smallest smile she dared.

She started, "now I know you could never give me an answer then but- the object I was sent to retrieve all those months ago, what was it?"

Tom's head ticked to an angle, eyes flickering around the group as he watched their expressions muddle into unease as memories surged forth. Kingsley sighed, "I don't know. None of us did, Dumbledore left strict instructions it be kept confidential."

"Which is why," Hermione began, wringing her hands nervously and Ron rubbed small circles into her back. She swallowed and dared a glance in Tom's direction, to which he only raised a brow. "We're going to infiltrate Hogwarts and get to Dumbledore's office. There's been whispers that valuable information had been left behind."

"Left behind?" Tom's voice was like sharp glass. "This is Albus Dumbledore, he wouldn't just leave something apparently so useful in a drawer at his desk. Where have you been hearing the rumors?"

Harry shifted his weight, hating how he was right.

Hermione seemed undeterred though, glaring at him. "We already have spies within the castle."

"Portraits, I assume?"

She swallowed dryly, "yes. Why?"

"And you trust a painting?"

"More than you," Ron mumbled.

"Regardless," Delilah cut in, shooting Tom a warning glance to tell him to shut up. "Phineas' portrait has always been helpful to us, and he said there had been a storage of documents hidden in Dumbledore's quarters -"

"However if we apparate the alarms will go off, I think we're forgetting that mini obstacle," Ron chimed.

Kingsley shook his head, "we'll be arriving at Aberforth's, he has the last remaining passage into the castle. Now guards will be sent out, and that's where one of the elves will come in."

Hermione bristled, her eyes gleaming with anger. "I hate the idea of using Belkin as bait, it's not right."

"'Mione he volunteered," Harry reminded her.

She picked at the hem of her jumper, "doesn't make it anymore right."

Harry wanted to snap at her that it was war,
to get over it. But he bit his tongue and turned to Kingsley. "Once we get into the castle there's a series of hidden hallways that have still been untouched for the most part, I've been keeping an eye on the map and found which ones tend to be vacant and clear. We'll get into his office and search, Phineas said most if not all of the headmasters' portraits have cleared by now. We'll be in and out and get whatever information we need."

Tom looked to Delilah, she looked tired. Wrapped up in a large and scratchy looking sweater with an 'H' on it and scuffed up jeans. Circles hung like craters under her eyes and wished he could just touch her.

Shaking his head he looked to Harry, "and if not all goes to plan?"

"It will."

"Harry mate, your optimism is always inspiring but... if something does go wrong we need a back up plan." Ron said carefully, not wanting to necessarily agree with Tom so vocally.

"Then we fight. Like we always do. We fight till we can't, and we can't lead them back here. The Order would be finished if they found any of our safe houses." He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, they felt like two dead weights were lugging inside his head.

"And," Kingsley cleared his throat, now looking to Tom. "We need to keep you out of any Death Eaters sight. I highly doubt they'd even recognize you, but never the less. You-Know-Who can see all his followers thoughts and memories, the last thing we need is him knowing that -" he took a slow breath. Debating.

"The last thing we need him knowing is that you're here, on our side."

Tom didn't object the statement, he merely nodded.

"Understood."

Chapter Text

  Later that night there was a knock on her door. Brows furrowing, her head rolled to the side to take a look at the clock. It was nearly four in morning. 

  Kicking the heavy blanket off her legs, she nearly tripped as she tried to untwist herself. Another knock, more impatient, and she huffed as she finally grabbed hold of the doorknob. 

  "What-"

  Tom stood there with a bemused expression on his features and she found herself blushing. 

  A multitude of questions bounced around in her mind as he stepped forward into the room and shut the door behind him with a soft click. "How are you... how'd you slip away?" 

  "That Granger girl can be helpful when she wants to be," he said lightly. 

  Delilah didn't bother asking him what he meant, not that she had the chance to seeing as his hand slipped into her hair and he pulled her mouth to his. Warmth and familiarity engulfed her as Tom's other arm wrapped around her middle, hot breath invading her mouth. 

  It felt strange to think she had missed him, but she had. She missed being near him and being free to act on her wants and needs. Now she felt restricted in even looking in his general direction - scared of judgement. 

  Again, Delilah didn't blame them. But that didn't make it any less hard. 

  Tom pulled away, lips pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead and hand massaging the back of her neck. "You're thinking too much." 

  "Aren't I always?"

  He hummed, looking down at her and her flushed features and he never thought he'd genuinely crave someone before but there he was - relapsing back into her. Who knew a person could cause symptoms of withdrawal.

  "Are you ready for tomorrow?" She asked, stepping away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. He bit his cheek, eyes dancing over the room and the cluttered mess of it. Walking over, he stood before her and messed with the collar of the sweater she was wearing. 

  "Am I ready to walk into a war zone?" Tom's tone was light and easy going and he offered her a slated smile. "Of course I am."

  "I don't think they'll let you have your wand."

  "Not a problem." 

  Her brow raised, "what do you mean?" 

  "Please, your lack of faith in my abilities is disheartening." Following his statement Tom lifted up one wrist and easily took the bracelet off, eyes glinting as he watched her own widen. 

  "Have they been like that the entire time?"

  Tom shook his head and slipped the device back on, "just last night I managed to crack them." He didn't think it the best idea to bring up his little episode and the fact he spoke to her recently passed ex. 

  "How?" She grabbed hold of his hands and lightly ran her fingers over the cool metal. He took hold of her chin, bringing her gaze to his. 

  "It's complicated."

  Delilah grinned, "uncomplicate it." 

  He didn't answer her, he just kissed her again. And again, and again. Tom kissed her till her mind went numb and she took notice of nothing but his weighty presence. 

  I missed you, nearly dripping off her tongue and he eased her onto her back on the mattress. His hands ghosting under the jumper and making her melt between his fingers. 

  His touch rested against her rib cage for a moment, taking in the blush of her cheeks and shimmering eyes. "You have to be quiet," his voice a lull, swarming around her and making her feel dizzy. 

  "Why not just cast a silencing charm?" She went to go reach for her wand, but within a second both wrists were pinned above her head and his nose brushed hers. A daring gleam to his starless eyes. 

  "And take away the fun?" 

  Her jaw went slack at his suggestion. "But what if-"

  Tom took hold of her chin again and she shuddered, his brows raising. "Will you be quiet for me?" 

  Delilah's eyes were doting and she nodded. Though her own cheeky smile deepened her cheeks. "Yes, sir," she joked. 

  However when his grip tightened and his jaw strained at the term, the excitement, longing, and a bit of fear running through her felt overwhelming. She wasn't thinking straight. This was a terrible idea, but it was hard to say no to him. Especially when he was on top of her.

  Tom knew he was being reckless, but he didn't care. She was there, beneath him, and that voice in the back of his head whispered about how he had missed her touch - missed her. 

  He shook his head slightly and tugged the jumper off her body. She wasn't wearing a bra, seeing as she had been planning to sleep but was ultimately greeted by her dear companion insomnia again. 

  It was clear Tom was wasting no time as he too shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and undid his belt. He movements didn't seem rushed, but tonight was different. For both of them. 

  They wanted another dose of each other and quickly. 

  His fingers hooked on the hem of her shorts and underwear and swiftly dragged them down her legs. Mouth latching onto hers again as he bent over, hot and open mouthed and his tongue traced the inside of her cheek. 

  Swallowing the light moan she let out as two of his fingers dragged down her folds before sinking in, thumb running circles persistently against her clit. Delilah thrusted against his hand, her own fingers twining and burying themselves in his unruly head of dark hair.

  The steady and slow dragging of his fingers in and out of her may her feel on fire, as if the bed beneath her would turn to ashes. Tom's mouth left hers and trailed down to her jaw, dusting over neck and to her chest. Sucking and biting and leaving whatever marks he pleased on her breasts seeing as they'd be the easiest to hide. 

  "Tom," her voice was a breathy, heated whisper. He could feel her start to pulse around his fingers, just nearly there, when he stopped. 

  Her chest was heaving and he marveled at the sight, ignoring her glare as he undid his trousers and slipped down his boxers. A second not wasted as he entered her. 

  His arms held himself up as he thrusted forward, pushing her further into the mattress and her mouth gaped open at the force of it. Tom ground back then forth, the pacing almost brutal and it hurt and it was delicious all at once. 

  "Always so wet..." he trailed heavily into her ear, nipping at it and goosebumps erupted on her flesh. "And tight for me."

  Her knees were bent, toes curled and head thrown back as he fucked her with next to no gentleness. 

  She loved it. A moan nearly tore out of her but Tom snatched it away as his hand closed around the beating skin of her neck, as if to tether himself to her. He could feel her pulse thrumming violently which only spurred him on further. 

  Harder and faster, sweat beading her skin like dew and her eyes rolled into back of her head. 

  Choking. 

  She couldn't breathe. It hurt but then when he'd drag out his cock would hit that special spot and she felt electricity shock ever nerve in her spine. 

  Hitting her orgasm with a muffled and choked cry, her legs trembled but he kept going. His grip on her throat bruising and hot tears slipped from her eyes, burning her cheeks and he drank up the sight. 

  "Fuck-" he rasped out, chasing and grinding and it was all too much for her as she shook and her vision swam. Tom finally let go as he watched her nearly slip unconscious and she sucked in a harsh breath of air but it turned into another moan as his pelvis slid against her clit. 

  Reaching his hand out, his fingers slipped between her swollen lips and into her mouth easily. Her tongue swirling around the digits without a thought and she could taste herself on him. 

  "Fuck, Delilah." 

  Tom's fingers pushed down on her tongue as his thrusts became more erratic, the muscles in his stomach clenching and she tightened around him once more. 

  Marveling at the sight as he came, head thrown back and throat bent with veins pulsing. His chest heaving as his hips stilled against her, that warm feeling of his release filling and coating her and more profanities left his mouth in hushed whispers. 

  Tom pulled out, watching with a twisting satisfaction as his cum mixed with hers pooled and leaked out of her swollen folds.

  Delilah was still shaking but he rubbed soothing circles into her thighs as he bent over to kiss her gently. 

  "You did wonderfully for me, darling.

  The next morning Delilah walked into the kitchen, incredibly sore but she walked it off to the best of her ability. Not missing how Tom's eyes flickered to her neck, the subtle hint of disappointment in his gaze at the notion she got rid of his marks.

  She absolutely refused to meet Hermione's gaze. 

  Belkin arrived a moment later, appearing with a sharp pop and his eyes glowed violet as he smiled at them all. "Ready?" The elf shuffled on his feet, strangely excited given the fact he was about to be put directly in the line of fire. 

  The group looked at each other, Hermione looking angry, but they all nodded. 

  "Ready, and remember Belkin. You pop in only enough to catch a few guards' attentions and then you leave." Kingsley clarified. The elf nodded, smiling, and with the snap of his fingers he was gone. 

  Not a moment later Kingsley took hold of Tom's arm, the rest linking hand and they apparated to the Hogs Head Inn.

  The world bent and twisted around them, tugging and pulling apart before they landed with a thump in the middle of the old wooden tavern. 

  "Here I was expecting you to be late," Aberforth grumbled, downing a tankard even though it was eight in the morning. 

  They could dainty hear the screeching alarms going off and Hermione wrung her hands. Ron have her shoulder a light squeeze. "He'll be fine," he whispered. 

  "I'm never late," Kingsley chimed. The Dumbledore was about to reply, but when Kingsley moved out the way and saw Tom and Delilah his hand holding his drink stilled.

  "I'm not going to ask."

  Tom smiled charmingly, "pleasure to see you, sir." Delilah resisted the urge to laugh at the sight of the others' confused faces.

  "I suspect my brother had something to do with his," he gestured to the pair of them. Harry's eyes glanced towards Tom, "you could say that." 

  "This little reunion is lovely, really. But we ought to get going, yeah?" Ron chimed, his first own nerves were itching at his spine but he tried his best to appear calm. Mostly for Hermione and Harry's sake. Both were always so strained and tense and he felt if he were to let himself fall to his worries they might crumble along with him. 

  Aberforth grunted and started down the hall, "this way."

  He led them down a hall, narrow and slanted and they came into a room with dust coating everything like snow. On the far wall was the portrait of Ariana and she smiled at them all lightly before it swung forward, the canvas revealing a large hole in the wall. 

  The group went through, crouched and cold. The smell of damp rocks and soil tickling their noses. It felt like ages until they reached another end. 

  Harry pushed the portrait forward to reveal the Room of Requirement, remnants of old beds and clothes strewn around everywhere. Echos from the days leading up to the Battle. 

  What horrid hours those had been. Relentless fighting and so many deaths only for it to hit a stalemate.

  "Harry?" Hermione's voice broke him from his trance and he shook his head. "Sorry," hopping down, his feet landed with a soft thud.

  The rest followed and Ron pulled out the Marauder's Map, the ink filling its pages and Tom leaned over slightly in curiosity. 

  It was an impressive bit of magic. 

  "This place is practically deserted," he said, eyes tracing over every hall. "Minus the front gates and outer rim, but they're mostly there just for guarding."

  "Then we better make it quick," Kingsley gestured for them to follow as he walked. 

  Weaving through the halls, or what was left, most tended to avoid looking too long. Wanting to repress the memories as much as they could. 

  Tom couldn't help as his eyes traced over every crack, lump of rumble, and blood stained stone. 

  All his fault. 

  Nearing the Headmaster's office, the large phoenix bird was knocked askew, making the group have to climb over it. Delilah's foot slipped on the smooth bronze but Tom's hands easily found their way to her sides, holding her steady. 

  "Sorry."

  "I'm sure," he mused, shortly after hauling himself up and on top of the statue.

  The doors were unlocked, barely hanging on their hinges. The group didn't have much time to dote when someone cleared their throat. 

  They all flinch, wands raise, but ease at the sight of Phineas in his portrait. The rest all empty. 

  "Took the lot of you long enough-"

  "Where do we need to look?" Kingsley cut him off. 

  The Black glared but then gestured to one of the side wall lines with artefacts. "There's false book's with documents hidden."

  "Which ones?" Hermione asked. 

  "I don't know muggle born," disgust underlined his tone but she ignored it with a mere roll of the eyes. "I'm sure we can figure it out ourselves."

  Barely five minutes later Hermione had already found the first one. 

  "Either she's clever or that was a very pathetic hiding attempt." Tom mused to himself but turned when Delilah nudged him in the side. "What?" 

  She pointed, eyes wide. 

  He turned and then went still as twinkling eyes met his. 

  "Hello, Tom." Dumbledore's portrait spoke, much older. He must've just appeared. The old wizard smiled kindly and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Hello, sir."

  Dumbledore waved his hand, "no need for such politeness. I'm glad to see you and Miss Meddows made the trip safely." 

  "I think I found all of them! Oh-" Hermione stood from her spot on the floor, clutching papers to her chest as gaped at the sight of Dumbledores portrait. Everyone else already gawking. They hadn't seen him in ages. 

  "Professor Dumbledore I'm sorry I hadn't realized," Hermione blew the hair out of her face, down right embarrassed. 

  The old man laughed gently, "always a pleasure, Miss Granger. Good to see you're just as sharp as I remember." 

  She smiled the best she could, not being able to get the image of him laying dead in the courtyard out of her mind. 

  They couldn't dwell, despite how much they all wanted to stay and talk. But even he began to urge them on their way. 

  "But sir," Harry started, having a hard time meeting his eye. "This plan of yours-" 

  He held up his hand, "let time run its course, Harry. It always will." 

  He clenched his jaw. Though he missed the professor dearly his lack of transparency, especially in such a trying time, was infuriating. Nonetheless he nodded, "it's good to see you." 

  "And you as well, my boy." 

  They began to file out of the room, despite their more rational thoughts the trio felt a bit more ease at the notion of Tom being at their side. Neither trusted him, but there was assurance building. 

  "Miss Meddows?"

  She swallowed dryly and stopped at the door, "sir?"

  "There should be a note in the bottom drawer of my desk." 

  Hesitantly, she walked over and tried the bottom latch. It would have been locked, but she had the inkling Dumbledore had something to do with the lack of security on these objects. 

  It slid open and there laid an envelope with her name printed in ink. 

  "What is it?" she asked, about to rip it open but he shook his head. "Not yet."

 "When should I?" 

  "You'll know." 

  She didn't bother to hide her glare. Looking to the door, they must've been down in the hall but she lowered her voice nonetheless. 

  "About the object, what was it?" 

  "In all due time." 

  God she wished she would've punched him when he was still alive. "Does the letter explain it?" 

  He just stared at her, knowing and haunting and he tapped the side of his nose. "Amor Vinicit Omina," and with a wink he was gone. 

  Her frustration quickly melted away into confusion and shock as realization dawned on her. 

  "Oh my fucking god."

Chapter Text

   Meeting them back in the hall, Delilah’s legs felt weak in a way that wasn’t correlated with the previous night's activity. 

  It felt as if someone had ripped her bones out and stuck a stranger’s in their place, reworking her nerves just enough but it still felt wrong. 

  Her eyes danced over everyone’s curious gazes and landed on Tom, her hand clutching the envelope and she dragged her tongue off the roof of her mouth. 

  “Do you have the cigarette box I gave you?”

  “Not on me,” he raised a brow at her panicked expression. “It’s back at the house, your brother nicked it off me the first night.” 

  “Oh thank fuck,” some small relief filled her and she shut her eyes for a moment, her head still churning over the new found information. 

  She wasn’t exactly sure why it was important, but clearly it had something to do with this mess. Otherwise why would Dumbledore go through the trouble? 

  “What’s so important about this case? Since when do you smoke?” Harry asked with arms crossed, a judgemental glint behind his glasses. 

  Delilah refrained from glaring at him, “I don’t smoke. But Dumbledore mentioned it and I think it’s important.”

  “How?” Hermione asked. 

  Biting at her cheek, she ran her fingers over the wax seal. “It’s just a theory but…” she tried to picture the case as clearly as she could. Of the intricate detail and it’s silver sheen. How she was drawn to it… “possibly, I don’t know, it could play a role into why I was thrown back in time.” 

  “How the fuck does that work?” Ron asked, scratching at the back of his head and Hermione sent him a sideways glance. She was never fond of him swearing. 

  “I don’t know, there has to be something though. I need to see it again and maybe we can study it, see if there’s any underlying traces of magic.”

  Tom shook his head, “there isn’t.”

  “Well how do you-“

  “I’d know.” 

  Huffing a breath, she couldn’t shove away the feeling she had in her gut that this was a trail she should follow. “Regardless, I need to see it.” 

  “Fine, let’s all get back and you can work on that while we go through all the new documents.” Harry started off down the hall followed by the rest of them, Kingsley already much further ahead to check if it was still clear. 

  “And by we , you mean me.” Hermione added, Delilah took note of the bags under her eyes but other than that the girl held herself together remarkably well. 

  Tom fell in step next to Delilah, hands shoved in his pockets and she gave him a once over. “You could probably use a change of clothing.” 

  He’d kept clean thanks to a few smells but he could admit a new wardrobe wouldn’t go unappreciated. Humming for a moment, he looked down at her. 

  “Do you really think the case is an element in all this?” 

  She thought back to the silver glint that showed through the package all those months ago. Note she wasn’t sure how to explain that if she bought it in a shop in the forties, how would it end up in the nineties before she ever even left?

  Time travel was a messy ordeal. 

  “I do, besides it wouldn’t hurt to try.” 

   After just finishing a cup of tea, the cigarette box was placed in front of her on the kitchen table with a dull thud. 

  The letter sat beside it and she itched to just tear the bloody paper open. She knew now wasn’t the time, if she read it now she felt she wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. 

  When she looked up, her eyes went wider than the moon at the sight in front of her. 

  Tom’s brows furrowed, “what?” 

  “Nothing just,” Delilah blinked. “Nothing.” 

  They’d finally let him properly shower so his hair was an unruly mess of dark curls. That wasn’t what took her off guard, though. 

  It was the grey baggy sweatshirt he was wearing with a pair of roughed up jeans. 

  Part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity of seeing him in such an outfit, the other part wanted to rip the clothes right off him and fuck him on the table. 

  “There’s no need to gape, darling.” Tom tsk-d as he sat down next to her, tugging at the collar a bit. 

  “I wasn’t gaping.” 

  “I beg to differ, you were practically eye-fu-“

  Delilah coughed loudly once as Harry walked in, eyeing Tom’s outfit with an annoyed pull at his lips. It must’ve been his clothes, seeing as they were similar in height and build. 

  Ron could’ve also been a choice but she doubted Tom would ever wear one of his jumpers. 

  “Anything interesting with the documents?” She asked, bringing her wand out and starting to run a series of diagnostics on the case. 

  Harry shrugged a shoulder, digging around aimlessly in the cupboards either because he was bored, hungry, or restless. “‘Mione is translating them, they’re in ancient runic text.” He fished out a bag of crisps and popped one in his mouth. “So Ron and I are useless.”

  He gestured to the case, “anything?” 

  Delilah’s eyes flickered over the spell, so far nothing. It was blank. Just an ordinary fucking object. 

  There had to be something about it. 

  Shaking her head, she opened it and got a waft of tobacco. A line of fine cigarettes all lined up on the plush velvet interior. 

  “Do you have records on the Deathly Hallows?” She asked after a moment, leaning back in her chair and rubbing at her eyes.

  Harry hummed in thought for a moment before nodding, “I think so. Somewhere in the war room probably, I’ll have Luna fetch them for you.”

  “Harry!” Ginny called vaguely from somewhere upstairs, and that’s all it took for the green eyed boy to practically skip out of the room. 

  Once he was out of earshot, Tom tilted his head, “the chosen one doesn’t know runes?” 

  “He was sort of busy avoiding impending doom in school, I don’t think runes were a concern of his.” She muttered as she poked and prodded at the inside of the lid. 

  “I feel like he could multitask,” Tom stood as Delilah ignored him, clearly hell bent on wanting to find a clue. Taking her cup, he walked over to the counter and began making his own cup of tea. “The Deathly Hallows, we know Grindelwald has the wand. Peverell has the cloak in the forties and Potter has it now. That leaves the ring.”

  “Which has been lost for centuries,” she mumbled, dumping the cigarettes out on the table which earned her a glare. 

  He went to pick up the cup but paused, staring at the onyx oil black of his ring and how the light hit it just right, making it almost translucent. There seemed to be… it was never there before. 

  Tom thought back to how Elio appeared in front of him. 

  “ Delilah .”

  At the course tone in his voice, she turned to look at him. “What?”

  He held up his hand and she paled. 

  “But- I mean how? Haven’t you’ve always had that? How do you even-” She stumbled over her words as well as her feet as she got up and rushed over to him, grabbing his hand and inspecting the black ring. 

  The mark of the Deathly Hallows was inscribed on the inside of it, flickering in and out of sight as if it were fog. “I’ve never seen it like this before, wasn’t it always opaque?”

  “It was until the other night,” he said carefully, eyeing her necklace. 

  “What happened the other night?”

  He bit the inside of his cheek, debating on what to tell her or if anything at all. How he was in a cage and how her dead ex boyfriend gave him an impromptu visit. 

  “I was just messing with it, turning it over in my hands a few times and shortly after that is when I got the restraints off.” The lie slipped out of his mouth easily, they always did. Besides, it was close enough to the truth, save for a few omitted details. 

  Still, that foreign feeling of guilt nudged at his ribs before he repressed it again. 

  Her eyes were narrowed in focus as she continued to stare at it, “how the fuck did you have one of the Deathly Hallows all this time and you never knew? Can’t you sense stuff like this? Have you always had it?”

  Tom shook his head as he slipped the ring off and dropped it into her palm. “I got it when I was sixteen, I thought it was heirloom.” He thought calling it a trophy for the murder of his father would be a bit crude. He always knew there was something more to the ring, but he’d summed it up to ancient magic - which was true - however he’d equated it to belonging to Slytherin.

  Not Death. 

  It wasn’t dark magic either, despite the bloody trail the Hallows left in their wake. 

  “One down, two to go.” Delilah said as turned it once but Tom’s hand rushed to cover hers. 

  “I wouldn’t, unless you want to see a dead relative.”

  She paused, thinking back to Elio. Would she be able to see him? Talk to him? Merlin, what would she even say? Would she even be able to look at him? A flash of his blood soaked smile flashed in her head and her heart gave an unpleasant lurch.

  There was a knock on the door and she flinched. 

  Luna was standing in the kitchen entryway with a thick book in her arms and an absent look in her eyes. Not seeming bothered at all at the sight of Tom, unlike everyone else in the Order.

  “Harry said you needed this,” her voice was light as she walked forward and gently placed it on the table. She eyed the cigarettes and then looked up at Tom. “Smoking is terribly bad for you, you know. But I suppose it doesn’t matter, magic can fix the damage.”

  He blinked at her, she was wearing a rather odd assortment of clothing. Layers of yellow and faded pink and green, with striped tights under torn jeans and mix matched socks. She wasn’t wearing shoes.

  “So I’ve been told.” He said.

  She held out her hand and Delilah bit back a smile.

  “Luna Lovegood.”

  He shook it once, “Tom Riddle.”

  “I know.” With a settling glance, she smiled at Delilah once and walked out of the room. 

  Tom hummed for a second, “I like her.”

  “Everyone does,” Delilah held up the ring again. “So what are we thinking?”

  Walking over to the book, Tom flipped it open and took note how this version was updated. Skimming over the names James Potter to Harry. “Did you ask him about the cloak?”

  “Sort of, I’m not going to make demands to take it though. So if he doesn’t give it to us, we’ll have to find where his grandfather is in the forties.”

  Grabbing one of the cigarettes, he wet it on his lips before lighting it and tugged at the collar of the sweatshirt again. Admittedly, it was comfortable but he felt he gave the appearance of someone who was lazy. 

  “It’s settled then, we’re going back. When?”

  She nodded and sat back down, lining up the envelope, the case, and the ring. Trying to piece together how it all connected. The letter probably gave her all the answers. But Dumbledore seemed keen not to rush the matter. “Soon hopefully, I need to get the time-turner back from Hermione.”

  “Why does she have it?”

  “It was either that or handing it over to Kingsley, if I did that we’d probably never see it again.”

  Sitting back down, he looked through the resident records of everyone in the book. Taking a drag, he pulled the stick from his lips and smoke plumed out in front of him. “Do you really think they’ll just let me up and leave? I’m an asset to them.”

  Resting her chin in her palm, she thought it over. She’d already talked to Harry about this, so regardless they would be leaving. However she couldn’t control how the rest of the Order responded, nor could Harry.

  “They don’t have much choice, there’s a war we have to win. In both timelines.”

  “That sounds dangerously optimistic.”

  She raised a brow at him, “since when are you doubtful of your skills?”

  “I’m not, but there are a multitude of other variables involved here. Grindelwald is a Seer, correct? How do we know he’s not already ten steps ahead of us?”

  “I can only hope we’re rewriting history enough to where we’re being unpredictable, but not enough to where Armageddon takes place. Besides, we can’t just sit here and do nothing, we have to act regardless.”

  She eyed his cigarette for a moment, wondering how helpful it really was to calm his nerves. Tom didn’t miss her sudden shift in thought and gestured for her to come over to him with a hand as he continued to read. 

  When she was barely a foot away he grabbed onto her waist and yanked her into his lap, her arm instinctively anchoring itself around his neck and a blush dusted her cheeks. 

  Taking another drag, with his free hand he grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her, breathing the smoke into her lungs and she shuddered at the heat of it and her mind felt fuzzy. 

  Pulling back, his eyes watched as the nicotine fog danced between their lips.

  “Careful or you’ll get me addicted,” her voice was a whisper. Eyes bright and latched onto his as he smirked. 

  “I believe you already are.”

Chapter Text

   Delilah held up the ring in front of them as Tom placed the cigarette between her lips, watching her as she analyzed the ancient stone.

  He supposed it wasn’t completely void of dark magic. 

  It was a horcrux after all. 

  His mind trailed back to his diary, which was currently stored away in a trunk at the safe house back in the forties. Parts of his soul scattered across time itself. Tom was curious if his soul affected the stone at all. If the Deathly Hallows were ever meant to be violated in such a way.

  He wondered what would happen if he told her, then again she had to have already known. Right? She knew what he would become, so Tom drew the conclusion she knew about his endeavors of seeking immortality. Knew about the extent to which he ventured.

  And with her frozen body clock, that voice in his head lulled quietly at the notion they could live forever. They could be gods .

  He was also curious to see if she could feel the aura around the ring, if she could see the faint glowing lines of magic that danced around objects that held such power. 

  Tom had always been able to, even from a young age. Though admittedly at first, he thought it was an eye issue of some sort. 

  Only it bloomed once he first visited Diagon Alley, even more so at Hogwarts. The threads of magic weaving through the air, some so vibrant that if he focused hard enough, he thought he might be able to reach out and pluck one. 

  It wasn’t overwhelming, as he got older he hardly paid attention. He was able to switch it off. But with some objects - or people - they made their presence known. 

  He watched her nose twitch as she turned the stone over, long faded freckles dusted over the bridge and her cheeks. She pulled the cigarette away after an inhale, blowing it out of the side of her mouth and handed it back to him. 

  Tom placed it between his teeth and slid the ring back on his finger. 

  Delilah glowed a silvery blue. The threads weaving almost invisibly in her hair and in her veins. He noticed it the moment he first saw her, passed out on one of the beds in the Slytherin dormitories. And when she used her runic spells they turned into near bolts of lightning. 

  Looking down at his hand, he flexed his long fingers and watched how the bones and tendons moved. His threads a deep crimson against his pale skin. 

  “Harry would go mad if he saw you two like this,” Hermione said as she walked in. 

  Delilah jumped lightly, becoming acutely aware of how she was sitting on one of Tom’s legs and his arm was wrapped securely around her waist. 

  She tried to move, but his hold wasn’t budging. All he did was puff out smoke and flip another page. 

  Clearing her throat, she raised her chin in feigned nonchalance. “How are the translations going?”

  Hermione sighed tiredly and grabbed a cup, magically filling it with water even though she didn’t have her wand on her. “Slow so far, most of the earlier documents are out of date. Lists of Death Eater bases that we’ve already raided or they’ve been long abandoned. Plus I’m working a bit sluggish.”

  “I think you’re doing a remarkable job, considering you’re doing it alone.” Delilah added, giving her friend a sympathetic smile. 

  “I could translate a few,” Tom said, earning a raised brow from the girl on his lap and a dry laugh from Hermione. 

  “Sorry, but no one would let you anywhere near those. Take it as a motive of precaution.” 

  He shrugged impartially, snuffing out the cigarette on the table and burning the wood. “Just thought I’d offer help, you all seem desperately under staffed.”

  Hermione narrowed her eyes, “maybe we wouldn’t be if wizards weren’t being murdered left and right.”

  There was a tense silence and Delilah shut her eyes briefly, glad that she at least didn’t say they were being murdered by him .

  Tom didn’t seem bothered, he simply raised his free hand in surrender and nodded once. “Pardon me if I’ve overstepped.” Though when she looked at him, his jaw was clenched, muscles straining. 

  Sipping her water, Hermione leaned back against the counter and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m just exhausted. We also need more supplies for the infirmary and I was supposed to go yesterday but I’ve been crammed with other tasks. And we can’t just send anyone, the Death Eaters know who’s in the Order and they’re hell bent on finding Harry.” She took in a sharp breath after her ramble.

  “That must be a lot, ‘Mione I’m sorry.” Delilah offered weakly, she was never good at this sort of thing. 

  The girl nodded mutely for a moment before looking at the two of them, biting her lip and her brows furrowed deeply in the middle. That was never a good sign.

  “What?”

  “I have a suggestion but it’s mad,” even as she said the words, it seemed she wanted to retract them immediately. “Can you two go?”

  This time Tom looked up, eyeing her over and a bemused smile tugged at his lips. “I can’t look at documents but you trust me to leave?”

  “Trust is a strong word, but you two are already leaving again aren’t you? Besides,” she observed the position they were in, at how comfortable they were around each other. “I know you won’t run.”

  “And what about the rest of the Order? They won’t agree with this.”

  “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” 

  Delilah blinked at Hermione, sure the girl had broken numerous rules at school. Though all for the right reasons. She never would’ve expected her to go behind Harry and Ron’s backs. 

  “Where and when?” Tom asked, leaning back in his chair and pulling Delilah along with him, having her back rested against his chest. 

  Of course he would be eager to leave, she couldn’t blame him. Being cooped up in a crowded house for days was a pest on its own, but he had yet to explore more of this new world. 

  “I’ll write up a list of what we need, most of the herbs can be found in an acre that’s right outside of the city. But one ingredient in particular is in Diagon Alley, that’ll be the task. No one can see you two, Tom for the most part I think is safe but regardless. Try to stay hidden. I’ll fetch you two around seven, Harry and Ron should be out on patrol during then.”

   Later that night Delilah stood alone on the roof, arms wrapped around herself to shield out the winter chill as she waited for Hermione to bring Tom. 

  This whole thing was reckless. Though she supposed she’s done more careless shit that would outlast her lifetime. 

  Staring down at the list, it was general herbs and plants that they would be able to find easily. More or less, aconite was on the list which was highly toxic. The ingredient at Diagon Alley was something called black quicksilver, which she wasn’t familiar with but there was an address to a shop scrawled next to it.

  The door to the roof swung open, Hermione hot on Tom’s heels and her hair a wild mess. She was also fuming. Meanwhile he held a cocky expression. 

  Delilah could only assume they were bickering. 

  “Does he not ever have a filter?” Hermione huffed, yanking Ron’s jumper closer around herself. 

  “Sadly, no.” 

  Tom nearly rolled his eyes. “I was only informing Miss Granger about the absolute lack of organization within this little rebellion. Not to mention how disastrous that infirmary is looking, and their methods really are quite outdated-“

  “Do you want to leave or not?” Hermione bit in, lips pursed. 

  Looping her arm through his, Delilah smiled lightly at her friend. “When we get back you can have him clean the cupboards in the infirmary.” 

  Tom craned his neck to look down at her with a brow raised. “I will not- “

  His sentence got cut off as they apparated. 

  Landing on wet cobblestone streets, water clung to the edges and cracks like glue as people were bustling around to get home or go out to eat. 

  Tom blew out a breath, glaring at her halfheartedly. “I’m not cleaning the bloody infirmary, have you seen it? It’s disgusting.”

  “They’ll probably make you do it by hand, too.” Delilah mused, tugging him along through the streets of Muggle London as they neared Diagon Alley. 

  She knew they’d have to stick to the shadows, ever since the war really kicked up at the start of sixth year the streets had been practically empty. Delilah hadn’t been back, to this version at least, since the battle at Hogwarts. 

  She didn’t know if she could stomach seeing Fred and George’s joke shop. It’s been closed for about a year now, but she wondered if the front was still enchanted to move a hat up and down. 

  Nearing the Leaky Cauldron, it looked void. Nothing like the lively version in the forties where people moved in and out and the air smelt of alcohol and watered down porridge.

  “We can’t just walk in,” she said as they stopped a few feet away. Muggles walking by them as if they were suddenly invisible. 

  “Cast a disillusionment charm.”

  “You don’t think there’d be wards?”

  “On an Inn?” 

  She shrugged a shoulder, “they’re vigilant, but it won’t hurt.” 

  Casting the spell over the both of them, Tom walked forward first and carefully opened the door, wincing at the loud creak. 

  Looking around the edge, after a moment his shoulders relaxed a bit. 

  “It’s empty.” 

  Regardless, they walked through the pub on the first floor swiftly and carefully. Delilah’s wand out all the while in case someone tried to get the jump on them. 

  After going through the brick wall, the streets were empty as expected, though stragglers would surely make themselves known the further they went. 

  As planned, they stuck to back alleyways and shadowed over streets. Even though it was now dark out, they didn’t want to risk a stray lantern giving them away.

  Reaching the potions shop, Tom saw an old man at the counter through a dingy window. Reading what looked to be like the Daily Prophet and eating dinner. 

  “I could just apparate in and steal it.” He suggested quietly. 

  She shook her head, “if you do that alarms will go off. Though I have no doubt you’d be able to nick it out of the shop easily.”

  Tom flexed his nimble fingers, he’d always been good at sleight of hand. Even without magic, he’d picked up tricks while at the orphanage. 

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

  Delilah snickered quietly, “of course you would.” 

  He ignored the hidden jab and looked down at her, “and you’re positive he won’t recognize me?”

  “Few people even know your name, and those who do are mostly dead.” 

  Her mind flicked back to sixth year, when Dumbledore told them all of the boy who once walked the halls of the castle. No one was in a rush to go scour old news clippings or yearbooks to find a picture of him. Scared they’d be greeted by a red eyed monster. 

  “You stay here.”

  Her brows furrowed. “But-“

  Grabbing her chin, he tilted her head back so her eyes met his. 

  “Stay.” 

  With that he turned around and sauntered into the shop. 

  Huffing out a breath she slumped against the wall. “I’m not a dog,” she muttered. 

  She watched as the shopkeeper looked up in surprise as the door opened, probably not expecting customers. She couldn’t see Tom’s face, but she could imagine the easy smile he probably held as he walked with the confidence of a god. All charm and no good intentions. 

  Just as she saw him slip a few phials up his sleeve a hand wound itself in her hair and yanked her head back. Her breath being stolen as a sharp edge of a blade pressed itself against her throat. 

  Their threat level apparent because she soon felt beads of warm blood trickle down her skin as the sting of a cut pricked at her nerves.

  “Hello, pretty.”

  A damp, bone chilling sensation ripped through her as her vision went white with fear. 

  Something sharp jabbed into her back and her knees nearly buckled.

  “I see you’ve healed rather nicely.” The sultry voice crooned. 

  Delilah’s mind felt as if it had been plunged into cold water, any rational thought completely abandoning her and her jaw had seemed to lock itself.

  She couldn’t even think that Tom was close by, that he would maybe walk out of the shop just in the nick of time. That he might save her. Might fight for her.

  None of that occurred to mind.

  All she could hear was her past screams ricocheting in her head.

  The blade cut in deeper and more crimson pooled down, “I must say this is an unwelcome surprise.” They tsk-d.

  Whirling her around, Delilah was shoved into the wall and her head slammed into the stone, making her ears ring and a sharp blow hit her in the ribs making her crumble. She heaved out a wet cough, red specks splattering on the ground.

  She looked up at Bellatrix with wide, terrified eyes. 

  The woman smiled manically, her teeth cracked, hair wild, and eyes gleaming with the promise of torture. 

  “Let’s have a little chat, shall we?” She said cheerfully, fisting the fabric around Delilah’s neck and began to drag her up to her feet just as the shop door opened.

Chapter Text

   His eyes took in and registered Bellatrix, recognizing her from Delilah’s memory of being tortured, looked at Delilah and how pale she was, blood dripping down from a cut at her throat - all in a matter of seconds. 

  Pure, unadulterated rage burnt through him as he stalked forward. Breaking the cuffs off with a mere movement. 

  She didn’t appear to recognize him, however. He had no doubt his future self, Voldemort, would want to keep his youthful days under wraps. 

  “Who’s this, your boyfriend? He’s cute.” Bellatrix giggled as her whip unfurled from her free hand. 

  That didn’t halt Tom’s advance, he couldn’t see anything but his girl bleeding out and looking terrified to death. 

  The crack of that goddamn whip ripped through the air just as Tom reached his arm out and caught the curling end of it. The leather stinging into his skin as pain tore into him. 

  It didn’t matter. 

  Bellatrix’s eyes went wide for only a moment before her own anger took hold of her as Tom wrapped the end of the whip around his hand and yanked. 

  She let out an enraged yelp as she staggered forward, dropping Delilah in the process. 

  Her mind was blank, her eyes dazed as her knees scraped against the ground and her jeans tore. Blood still trickling and making her throat slick with crimson. 

  Delilah couldn’t - she didn’t… where was she again?

  Blinking rapidly she tried to focus but could look at nothing but her hands as they clutched uselessly at the wet stones. 

  There were flashes of color going on somewhere near her. Or far. She couldn’t tell. The most she could register was the flashes of red and white. A lot of green. 

   So much green. 

  Something then got pulled out of her pocket. The whistle of it loud in the air. 

  Where was she again? 

  Who was she with? 

  What time was it?

  She blinked again, forcing herself to look up and saw a boy - Tom, now holding her wand and fighting. 

  By god did he look furious.

  Delilah had enough trouble recognizing him, but at the moment he looked like someone else entirely. Face etched with wrath but in an almost subtle way. 

  The kind of quiet anger that made fear dig deeper. 

  She felt terribly light headed. Trying to stand, she ended up swaying and falling back against the wall. Her hand was shaking as she raised it, her fingers just barely brushing her neck and they came away wet and that metallic smell met her nose. 

  “ Tom- “ her voice was hoarse. 

  His eyes slated to the side at the sound of her voice, causing him to just barely miss the spell Bellatrix had thrown at him. 

  Her lip was pulled back in a grimace as she then deflected his impediment curse. 

  It bounced right off her shield and slammed into Delilah. 

  Tom’s ears rang with both Bellatrix’s maniacal laugh and his scream of agitation. Watching Delilah slump to the ground, head slamming into the floor and her eyes wide and empty. 

  She looked dead. 

  Fear, something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling, ripped him apart from the inside and pricked at every nerve. 

  Her whip unfurled from his grip and shot it at Bellatrix, the leather curling around her ankle and she got pulled to the floor. 

  Tom was on her in a moment. 

  His own lip now pulled back in a snarl as his foot then stomped down on Bellatrix’s wand hand, the sound of bones crunching and grinding against the stone street reaching his ears. 

  She lurched at the pain but refused to scream, attempting to yank herself free but Tom dropped a knee right onto her sternum and he felt the bone shift and weaken. 

  In the blink of an eye he slipped her knife off her and stabbed her straight through her corset, digging it in deep between her ribs and could almost sense the moment he punctured her right lung. 

  Bellatrix let out a breathless, almost gurgling wounded sound. Eyes building with rage at the notion a mere teenager had gotten the best of her. 

  There was one problem. 

  She was still breathing. 

  But the killing curse wasn’t enough for him. 

  Twisting the knife, he made sure to angle the handle up then down, watching in sadistic satisfaction as her veins pulsed violently beneath her skin. 

  His other hand looped the whip around her neck and pulled so tight her throat looked like it was about to pop. 

  “Are you going to kill me?” Bellatrix rasped out, one hand clawing uselessly against her skin as her other was still crushed beneath his foot. Bones jutting out of her flesh. 

  Tom’s eyes were glowing, yet bottomless all at once. Drinking in every moment of her pain as he thought back to how she cut Delilah open. Shredding her back to pieces and laughing. 

  He wasn’t any better than her, he knew that. 

  Tom Riddle was much worse. 

  “No,” his tone deathly quiet. 

  He yanked the knife out and delighted in the sound of Bellatrix screaming. 

  Either in pain or in fear she might actually die as blood started to gush out and pool on the street and fill her punctured lung. 

  “I want you to beg for it.”

  And he drove the knife into her stomach, dragging it up and cutting through her as easy as soft butter. Her intensities spilling out like ruddy red ribbons and blood splattered across his face. 

  Her eyes had just started to roll into the back of her head as there was the crack of an apparation at the end of the street. 

  Looking up, what he could assume was a Death Eater, was running towards them with a wand out and the killing curse surely on their tongue. 

  Tom let out an animalistic sound of rage as he stood up, digging his foot even harder into her hand before he bolted in the direction of Delilah. 

  He’d just grabbed onto her and ducked out of the way as a bright green spell of promised death cracked the wall next to his head. 

  Not a moment later the world warped around them, Delilah held closely to his chest looking like a corpse. 

   She woke up gasping, clawing at her throat and her nails dug into her skin searching for the gash but there was none. 

  Someone had healed her. 

  Grass pricked at her body and she had to blink a few times before she took note of the stars above her.

  Twinkling at her as if all was right in the world. 

  The sound of crickets also met her ears as she slowly sat up, her head spinning as her mind struggled to piece together what had just happened. 

  Bellatrix. 

  God, was she dead again? 

  Someone knelt down in front of her then and she screamed, her leg kicking out on instinct. 

  Tom huffed out a pained breath and clutched at his side, glaring at her. 

  “Merlin, Lilah-“

  She shot forward, making them fall back as she crushed him in a hug. 

  “You’re not dead,” she rasped out, face buried in the crook of his neck and eyes squeezed shut. 

  Slowly, an arm wrapped around her and tightened, his other hand holding the back of her head and pulled her closer. 

  “Neither are you.” There was a short pause. “I thought you… for a moment. There was a lot of blood.”

  Delilah pulled her head back to look at him properly, blood still covering his face and it made his eyes stand out even in the dark. 

  She kissed him, roughly. Teeth hitting his and it was messy but her mind was still in shambles and he was alive and she was too and they were okay for the time being. 

  That’s all she could ask for. 

  They were okay. 

  She didn’t want to think about Bellatrix. Didn’t want to think about how she’d been near her. How she managed to hurt her all over again and render her useless. 

  Didn’t want to think about how the trauma of those dreadful months still drowned her.

  Tom’s hand slid down to the nape of her neck, deepening the action and didn’t seem bothered by the turn of events. 

  Neither of them wanted to acknowledge the disaster that would be greeting them soon. 

  Bellatrix would tell Voldemort she was alive. 

  She shifted and he groaned out, pulling away and tugging on her lip in the process. “If you’d quit moving.”

  Delilah closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his, taking a shuddering breath. 

  She didn’t want to think but she knew now was most definitely not the time. 

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Tom bit his cheek as he looked up at her. 

  “I will kill her.”

  She managed a tired smile, “I don’t doubt it.”

  “No,” he sat up, Delilah still straddling him. “I don’t think you understand, I will rip her spine out if I have to. Rib by rib.”

  He had been so close tonight, but of course he didn’t have enough time. 

  There was never any time. 

  Delilah knew she should be concerned, at least some part of her should be. 

  Instead she kissed him again. 

   When they landed on the roof Hermione looked furious for only a moment before she took in how Tom and Delilah were covered in blood. 

  “What-“

  “It’s not mine.”

  Hermione paled and looked to Delilah. 

  “Not hers either.” 

  She blinked a few times. “What the hell happened? I’ve been sitting up here for over an hour freezing my arse off and Ron and Harry will be back at any moment.” 

  Delilah took in a breath, the words coming out in a rush. “Bellatrix found us, Tom nearly killed her, and I’m pretty sure she’ll tell You-Know-Who…”

  “But we got all the supplies,” Tom chimed, handing her the case. 

  Hermione grabbed onto it numbly, staring at them and piecing together who’s blood he was covered in. 

  “Does,” she swallowed dryly. “Did she recognize you?”

  He shook his head, “only her. Which still presents a problem on its own.”

  “Fuck,” Hermione said quietly. 

  “My sentiments exactly.” 

  She blinked a few times before shaking her head, Delilah could already see the gears turning behind her eyes. 

  “I’ll find out how to tell Harry about all this. He needs to know, but hurry back before they get here.” 

  As they made their way down the steps, she grabbed onto Tom’s arm. 

  “I’ll stay with you tonight.” 

  He pulled them to a stop, “I don’t think that’s for the best.”

  Her brows furrowed. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  Tom sighed out his nose, “you don’t want to stay where I’m being held.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Do they restrain you to the bed or something?”

  He bit his cheek and her eyes narrowed. 

  “Show me.”

  “Delilah-“

  “ Now .”

  He sighed out again, as if she were being unreasonable before reluctantly leading them down the hall and along those narrow steps. 

  She froze at the sight of the cell before whirling around. 

  “Why in the ever living fuck did you not tell me you had been sleeping in a goddamn cage?” She was practically yelling, her voice echoing loudly in the closed room. 

  Tom raised a brow at her and crossed his arms across his chest, “like it would’ve made a difference?”

  Her eyes widened as her brows furrowed, looking at him incredulously. 

  “Yes!”

  “How? You’d ask nicely and they’d all the sudden let me sleep in bed?” 

  “I could’ve at least tried.”

  “That would be useless-“

  “That’s not the fucking point!"

  “What the hell is going on?” Harrison came down the steps, eyes flicking between his sister and Tom. Annoyance and confusion taking hold of his features. 

  “Delilah what are you doing down here?”

  “You complete cunt,” her insult was punctuated as she shoved her brother back. 

  “You’ve had him down here? Sleeping on fucking mat? He doesn’t even have a fucking toilet!”

  Harrison narrowed his eyes at her, shoving her back in return. “He’s been exactly where he should be.”

  “He’s not an animal!”

  “Are you kidding me? Are you forgetting who he is?”

  “What is going on?” 

  Delilah’s blood churned at the sound of her mother’s voice and she laughed dryly, “oh god not you.” 

  Her mother reached the bottom of the steps and caught sight of Delilah and Harrison, clearly in the middle of a fight. 

  She crossed her arms, “well hello stranger.” 

  “I’m not in the mood, mum.”

  Her eyes narrowed, completely ignoring Tom. “You’ve been here for how many days now and not one hello? We thought you were dead and now you act like this? Do you realize how selfish- “

  Was she a terrible daughter? Probably. 

  But she had had one hell of a day and she couldn’t stand to be in the room any longer. 

  Her parents hardly spoke to her even before she got sent back in time. Not to mention all the times her mother had kicked her out of the house. 

  The youngest she had been was nine when it first happened. 

  Harrison never interfered.

  “Fuck both of you.”

  She grabbed onto Tom’s hand and began to pull him towards the door but her brother moved in front of her, eyes stern. 

  “He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Move.”

  When he didn’t budge, her jaw clenched. A wordless runic spell ringing like a church bell in her head and Harrison suddenly got thrown to the side. 

  Her mother yelling at her as she and Tom went up the stairs. 

  She practically shoved him into the room she had been staying in, slamming the door behind her and locking it. 

  Tom watched her carefully as she rambled angrily and paced, tearing her jacket off and throwing it carelessly on the floor. 

  “I cannot believe you.”

  He raised a brow and sat on the edge of the desk. “What did I do?” 

  “You- you… why didn’t you fucking tell me? I’ve been in here sleeping soundly on a proper bed while you’ve been laying on the damn floor covered in dust.”

  “I had to prove a point.” He said simply. 

  Delilah laughed dryly and tugged off her shirt, also throwing it to the floor as she dug through one of the drawers for a nightie. 

  “You and your fucking pride.”

  “Delilah, I had to stay there for a few days to show I wouldn’t run. That I’d comply-“

  “I don’t care.”

  Just as she took off her pants and slipped on the thin cotton, she felt his hands at her sides and she paused, his front pressed against her back as he knelt his head down beside hers. 

  “I’m fine. I can handle a few nights sleeping on a floor.”

  Turning in his hold, she took note of how dried blood still clung to his skin like paint. 

  “You should’ve told me. Even if I couldn’t change their minds.”

  “And worry you?”

  She snickered, “I’m still trying to grasp the notion you actually care about my well-being.”

  Tom’s features warped into something more serious, his eyes focusing in on her. His hand danced up from her side to gently cup her throat, his thumb running along her bottom lip. 

  “If you die I won’t hesitate to kill every last person who played a part or failed to help. You know that, right.”

  She bit her cheek, her hand coming up to hold onto his wrist. 

  “Killing every last person wouldn’t solve anything.”

  “I don’t think I’d care.”

   Voldemort looked down at Bellatrix as she was being healed, currently passed out as her bones, intestines, and lungs were fixed. 

  Waiting.

  His pale, spider like hands gripping the edge of the metal slab of a table she was currently on. 

  The moment her eyes shot open his hand was around her throat. 

  “Tell me,” he hissed. “Tell me what happened.”

  Bellatrix was weaker than she’d ever been and she was enraged, feeling suddenly pathetic and hating how her Dark Lord was seeing her in such a state. 

  A small part of her wishing she had died to save herself such an embarrassment. 

  But she knew she was still alive for a reason. To serve him. To prove herself again. 

  “That girl,” she rasped out, her throat feeling like gravel. 

  “That Meddows girl is alive.”

Chapter Text

  Delilah had woken up to yelling, Harry and Ron's voices carrying through the floor boards as Hermione told them what had happened.

  She groaned, burying her head in her pillow and Tom also made a grunt of annoyance, pulling her body close to his. 

  "Should we?—"

  "Leave it," his voice was rough with sleep, exhaustion tugging at his limbs since he had finally been able to rest in a bed.

  However, not a moment later the door burst open now with a broken lock and a fuming Harry stumbling into the room followed by Ron and Hermione. 

  "Delilah I'm--" Hermione started but Harry cut her off as he stormed forward.

  Rage in his eyes doubled at the sight of them in a bed together as he then grabbed hold of Delilah, dragging her out of the sheets with a vice like grip on her arm.

  "What the fuck are you doing?" He shouted, his jaw clenched and she winced at the pain shooting through her arm.

  "You left without telling us, taking him with you and then you somehow fuck up so bad that You-Know-Who knows you're alive?"

  "Harry-"

  "He could find out about Tom at any moment now thanks to you."

  "It was my idea!" Hermione cut in, trying to march her way forward but Ron held onto her elbow.

  "I don't give a damn whose idea it was, you never should have left." He bit, yanking her closer again. Neither realized Tom was behind him in a moment.

  Arm wrapping around Harry's neck while his other hand held the top of his head, looking wholly prepared to snap his neck.

  "Hands off," Tom's voice was low. 

  Watching how Delilah's brows furrowed in pain and her arm was turning red. 

  Ron went to surge forward, but with the flick of his head the ginger was thrown back into the wall. 

  "Harry no one recognized Tom," Delilah tried as calmly as she could. Sending Tom a warning glance, not seeing how him holding Harry in a headlock would help their situation. 

  The green eyed boy didn't seem to care, letting go of Delilah and twisting in Tom's hold. The moment he was free his wand was out and pointed at his chest.

  "Harry stop it!" Hermione tried again. 

  Barely anyone had time to blink before Tom muttered something, a faded red light glowed for a moment before Harry's wand was ripped from his hold and flew into Tom's hand.

  "Enough." His voice was sharp as he glared at Harry, his eyes as dark as spilled ink. "If you could get your emotions under uncontrol it'd be greatly appreciated, now—" he twirled Harry's wand around his fingers. 

  "Unless he decides to raffle throughout that woman's mind, we should be fine. I recognize that's putting faith in very little, but it's all we've got to hang onto at the moment." 

  "Bellatrix didn't recognize you?" Ron asked Tom as Hermione yanked her elbow out of his hold. 

  Tom turned to look at him with a brow raised, "how would she? According to the books, hardly anyone knows of my past identity, let alone my name."

  "Well actually," Hermione said in a quick breath, having to reel herself in as his eyes connected with hers. "Dumbledore sort of told the entire school what your name was in sixth year." 

  "Lovely," he muttered. However, that still didn't mean people knew what he looked like. And there were loads of people named Tom... it was a pathetic thing to hope for but he couldn't afford to over think it at the moment.

  "Nevermind him, we know she recognized Delilah."

  Ah yes, that obstacle. 

  "As long as he has no means of tracking her, the most we have to deal with is his anger. Which I realize can be monumental given how his emotions tend to drive his decisions. Which also means he'll most likely get more irrational." Tom looked at them all, battle worn with grief written into their features. 

  The more he thought about it, everyone in the house had a gaunt expression carved into them. Pale and stricken as if ash of their fallen clung to them like stubborn dust. 

  It was partially familiar to him, he recognized the weight in their eyes from the soldiers he saw return from war back in the forties. 

  "We just need to be more careful. He'll make mistakes."

  “Mistakes can costs lives, that of which we’re desperately low on.” Harry clenched his jaw as he stared Tom down. “You don’t get it, do you? More people will die because you got bored.” 

  Tom didn’t appreciate the fact that he was right. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about that. There was a hollowness to the notion of other people dying. The only person he genuinely wanted to be kept alive was Delilah. 

  Everyone else was collateral. 

  November went by in a blur and December seemed hellbent on flying by. 

  Tensions high between many in the Order now that Voldemort knew about Delilah. Though Tom was now allowed more free reign within the house, the two were barely permitted to even go near a window. 

  Harry didn't want them to be tempted into leaving for a rendezvous.

  "How do we know You-Know-Who doesn't know about his past self, if Tom is him?" Ron asked one night, mouth full of stew and Tom gave him the mere flicker of a disgusted expression. 

  "I'm not him, I've already explained this. We're in a different timeline now, his past is still his. I'm on a new course, so he has no knowledge of what's happening as we speak. All he knows is that Delilah's still alive, and he's probably raging over the fact." 

  He looked to her then, still attempting to come to terms with the fact she cared about him even though Voldemort had murdered her. 

  Or tried to, at least. 

  This knowledge only appeared to set Harry at somewhat ease, though he had been more high strung recently to his scar constantly hurting. Which only made him more irritable as they discussed Tom and Delilah's plans to return to the forties after New Years.

  Which Tom found utterly fascinating. How could Voldemort's emotions affect Harry? There had to be more to it than simply the killing curse rebounding. He wondered if-

  The sound of something shattering made them all turn around and Neville looked up at them with a wince. "Sorry, I dropped an ornament."

  Turning back around, Tom picked up his cup and blew the steam away from his tea before taking a sip. 

  "It's awfully late for a tree to be going up. Christmas is tomorrow isn't it?" He remarked and she shrugged a shoulder as she flipped through a book. He glimpsed the title for a moment, titled Fellowship of the something. Delilah seemed rather enraptured with it.

  That was all she had been doing really since they were confined to the safe house for two months. Reading, eating, planning, sleeping - among other things in the bedroom. 

  "People want some normalcy," she said after biting into her muffin. "I do hope you got me something."

  Tom raised a brow at her.

  "Let's see, you didn't get me anything for Christmas last year-"

  "I despised you at that point."

  She glared at him, "and I hated you. Besides the point, and you didn't get me anything for my birthday." Her birthday had rolled around and she was now nineteen, or at least she thought. 

  With the timeline being messed up she wasn't sure if she was younger or older than she was supposed to be.

  "I recall giving you an entire night as a celebration," he remarked as he took another drink, basking in the way her cheeks burned red at the mention of their activities. 

  Clearing her throat she turned her eyes back to the page she had been trying to read. "Anyway, Hermione said there would be a small party tonight."

  "Of course there is, there's always time for useless recreational activities during a war."

  "It helps people forget."

  "Not for long."

  "Well I'm sure people would rather have flickers of happy moments than none at all."

  Tom hummed, wanting a cigarette but he'd left them up in their room. 

  It wasn't like he didn't want to get her a gift. In fact, she was the first person he actually felt a sort of longing to do so. However there was the problem of him not being allowed to leave the cramped house they were in. 

  Neville dropped another ornament, and with a sigh Delilah got up and went to go help him. 

  He watched her for a moment, how her naturally shaking hands tried to hold onto the fragile pieces so gently as she hung them up on a branch. 

  Tom's eyes then caught on a mess of curky hair and he sat up straighter.

  "Miss Granger," he started and she looked up at him with that constant look of surprise in her eyes. "I was wondering if you could assist me with something."

  Later that night he was practically dragged out of his room to the kitchen where all the loud noise had been ensuing from. 

  There was a turkey sat in the middle of the large table with steam swirling up from its glowing surface and other little dishes ranging from roasted potatoes to yorkshire pudding were scattered around it.

  It smelt delightful but he raised a brow as a small train weaved its way through the air, just barely spilling the gravy it held. The Order was chattering and laughing, eating with smiles on their faces as they tried to ignore the war pounding on the door. 

  His eyes found Delilah and a bit of amused tried to tease its way to his features as he watched her take a rather comical bite out of one of the turkey's legs. 

  Before he could make his way over, he watched her get whisked off to the far end of the room where space was made for dancing near the tree. He'd only just noticed the music blaring out of a phonograph.

  Sitting down, he stared at the food for a moment but couldn't bring himself to have much of an appetite. The fact that Blaise was spinning her around wasn't helping much either but he pushed the nudge of jealousy away. 

  There were more important things to dwell on, why succumb to such adolescent problems?

  Although as Tom continued to watch her it became more apparent she was drunk. Not nearly as much as she had been that one night in the head students common room. 

  Sighing at the memory, he thought back to what little she had been wearing. How her legs had dangled off the side of the couch and how her head was in his lap. He'd repressed it then, but he had wanted to fuck her for longer than he'd realized. 

  "It's rude not to eat," Hermione said from somewhere beside him. When had she sat down? 

  "I'm afraid I don't have the stomach for anything tonight."

  She gestured to her untouched plate, "you and I both it seems... have you given it to her yet?" 

  Tom looked back at Delilah, at her glowing eyes and he couldn't help but think she was beautiful. 

  "Not yet."

  Meanwhile Delilah was trying to keep the room from spinning even after Blaise stopped twirling her. 

  "I have some news you might find riveting," he remarked as she tried not to laugh at her. 

  "Well do share with the class." She was happy they were able to do this, dance and talk even if it was about nothing. She had felt severed off from him by the end of their last conversation and was glad to have some semblance of normalcy back. 

  "Luna and I kissed."

  She blinked at him for a moment before a fit of exciting giggling broke from her lips. "That's marvelous! Oh where is she? When was this? Why didn't she tell me, oh that blasted girl-"

  Blaise snickered and turned her back towards him, seeing as it appeared she was about to march off at any moment. "Calm down, it happened earlier."

  "Took you long enough, haven't you had a thing for her since fifth year?" 

  He glared at her half heartedly, "shut up."

  "Mind if I cut in?"

Chapter Text

   Tom stood behind them, a clearly forced pleasant smile on his lips. The expression taught on his handsome features. His eyes gleamed something dangerous as he looked at Blaise, sharp like a blade and it stung. Making the man lean back.

  She spared him a glance before turning back to Blaise. Not being phased in the slightest by Tom’s intimidating demeanor, “really?”

  Blaise shrugged and stepped away, “I’ve always had a thing for blondes.”

  Tom’s jaw tightened. 

  “Does that include Draco?” She teased.

  “Again, shut up.”

  Delilah smiled at him knowingly as he finally walked away and Tom stepped around her. 

  “What was that about?”

  “Nothing, he just finally plucked up the courage to do something.” Her hands found familiar purchase around the nape of his neck as they began to dance aimlessly. Merely swaying with the beat of Christmas music from a more modern era that Tom wasn’t sure he liked. 

  He found he didn’t like a lot of factors about the nineties. Even though the world itself wasn’t at war, it somehow felt duller to him than his time. There was a lack of elegance, he felt like his steps were now misplaced. All those years he had worked on himself to become better than those around him suddenly felt fruitless and he was now three steps behind again. His world upended.

  Tom wondered if that’s how Delilah felt when she arrived in the forties. 

  He shook his head, people just didn’t care and he couldn’t get himself to agree with that. 

  “I don’t like it here,” he admitted. Looking over Delilah's head easily and noticing how some people tried to be inconspicuous with their lingering glances. Their eyes flashing like lighthouses, flickering in and out of sight but always rounding back onto them again. 

  Good. Let them watch. 

  He had accepted their hatred even before arriving in this time. That didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to put up with it. There was always a good balance back at Hogwarts, yes people loathed him, but adoration tipped the scale into something manageable and malleable for him to play with. A God peering down at Man, knowing he can influence their actions despite not all being happy about it.

  “Well we’re going back soon enough, so if you could try harder to hide your pouting.”

  His narrowed eyes looked down at her, “I am not pouting.”

  She cut him a half bemused smile before resting her head against his chest. His heartbeat spiked for a moment before calming again, the sound a lullaby. “Harry is still trying to convince the higher Order members to let him come with us.”

  “That would be pointless, surely he knows they’d never let him leave. Especially since the war is on the fringes.” Tom spotted the green eyed boy across the room, looking some semblance of happy for once as Ginny wiped whipped cream from a pastry off of his nose before kissing him. The boy smiling like a fool.

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling him, he needs to stay and fight.” Her sentence ended with a hiccup and a grin nearly made itself present on his lips.

  “Wouldn’t want a repeat of last time, now would we? You might even get bold and start dancing on the table proclaiming your absolute adoration for me.”

  She smacked his arm, “I might have been shit-faced that time but I know for a fact such nonsense did not leave my mouth.”

  An uncharacteristic and rather devious smile grew on his face, “are you so sure about that?” 

  “I…” after a moment, clearly basking in her sudden self doubt, a dry laugh left him.

   “You’re infuriating.”

    “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

  She shut her mouth, not seeing an argument she could summon from air. However, saying nothing only fed his ego the crumbs she was trying to sweep up. “I need another drink.”

  “By all means,” he gestured to the makeshift bar they had arranged. Muggle and Wizard alcohol alike. 

  Delilah pointed a finger at him, “don’t look so amused, you’re not getting a spectacle from me tonight.”

  His eyes were heavy underneath dark lashes, his lips tugged up sinfully. “Oh, I’m sure.”

   She woke up with a splitting headache and groaned, burying her head in the pillow and her mouth was so dry it felt like her tongue would split the flesh off the roof of her mouth. 

  Delilah laid still for another moment before her spine went rigid. Fuck . Her head shot up, eyes heavy with sleep and she blinked many times to try and read the clock, Tom’s sleeping form evenly rising and falling next to her. 

  Six in the morning. 

  Her shoulders slumped in relief, her mind lagging as she tried to chase down her memories of the night but failing to catch most. Giving up with a light sigh, she carefully untangled herself from the sheets, slowly lifting her leg off Tom. Trying her best not to wake him. 

  She froze when he stirred for a moment, but went still again. The liquor still in his system surely to thank. 

  Padding quietly across the floor, the flickers of sunrise clawed at the ground hungerly, desperately trying to get around the heavy drawn curtains. Another day closer to a hopeful victory.

  Opening the top drawer of the dresser, she pulled the small jewelry box out from under a few shirts. Smiling as she took hold of it. Closing it, she faltered as she turned around, Tom was looking at her. Sleep heavy on his eyes. 

  “You’re up early,” his voice was a rasp, deep from chest and her skin flushed hot at the sound of it. 

  Delilah smiled lightly, “I didn’t mean to wake you—“

  He waved her off, “what’s that?”

  She bit her lip and he raised a brow. 

  “Delilah, if that’s a gift—“

  “Oh, shut up. It’s Christmas.” She beamed and made her way back to bed. As she did so he moved towards the foot of it and sat on the edge. Watching her draw nearer and stand between his legs. 

  He took in her giddy expression, adding a light to her in the otherwise dark room. He waved a hand, a candle lighting itself on the desk. 

  She was glowing as she handed him the box, “Happy Christmas.” Leaning down, she placed a chaste kiss to his forehead. 

  However as she pulled back, Tom tugged on her necklace, pulling her lips to meet his. Slight remnants of scotch still on his tongue and it made her dizzy as her eyes shut with the motion. 

  A light gasp left her as he then tugged her into his lap, sat on one knee as the box rested on the other. 

  His dark eyes flicked between hers, “I don’t have your gift.” She deflated a bit but hid it, though he noticed the slight drop of her shoulders in an instant. “Yet,” he added. “House arrest is tedious when it comes to shopping.”

  “I don’t mind, just open it.” 

  She seemed gleeful and now he was beyond curious. Sparing her one last glance, he opened the box.

  Tom couldn’t help the laugh that broke from his lips. 

  Picking it up, a long necklace dangled from his fingers, the contents that made it a jumbled mess of different sized beads and other objects, with a small little radish hanging from the end with a D inscribed on it. 

  It was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen, yet he felt a strange sense of… content? Gratitude? He wasn’t sure.

  Delilah was smiling but was trying to read his reaction carefully. “Luna helped make it, it’s charmed to keep away the Nargles.”

  His eyes narrowed on the necklace, picking up delicate traces of magic laced around it. His brow raised in genuine curiosity despite the crude wording that slipped out of his mouth. 

  “What the fuck is a Nargle?”

  Her lips closed into a more small, cautious smile. “If you don’t like it it’s alright, I realize it’s probably not your—“

  Her words were swallowed by his mouth. Tom pulled her in by the neck and kissed her, smiling against her lips. 

  He didn’t know why he was in such a good mood. Perhaps it was because a war and the world weren’t knocking on his door for once. Maybe it was the fact it was his first Christmas where nothing was expected of him. Or maybe it was the girl in his arms. 

  Setting the gift carefully next to him, he dragged back onto the bed, mouth never leaving hers as his hand trailed up into her hair. Holding her so close he felt her pulse thrum like a dragon's wings beneath her skin. 

  Delilah was more intoxicating than any liquor he’s ever consumed. The mere taste of her threatening to send his mind into a frenzy. A frightening yet thrilling thought. 

  She was more dangerous than anything the war could offer.

  His fingers had just latched onto the hem of her underwear when there was a knock on their door. 

  They fell silent for a moment, breaking from a heated kiss as heavy eyes of lust stared back at each other. A groan of annoyance rumbling at the base of his throat as they knocked again. 

  Delilah laughed lightly, the sound being warped into a small gasp as he squeezed her hips. His fingers pressed into her skin with such desperate force that chills ruptured all over her body. 

  Smirking at her knowingly, he got off the bed and went to the door.  As he opened it, the person on the other side had their fist frozen in the air. Having been about to knock again. 

  His eyes flickered as he looked down at them, “yes, Miss Granger?”

  Hermione’s own eyes widened a bit and her cheeks flushed as she saw Delilah sitting on the bed and smiling at her tiredly. Her gaze went between the two and she flushed, “sorry I know it’s early.”

  She bit her lip, her embarrassment melting away as her features became clouded by barely tempered glee. Her fingers clutching at a small morsel she handed him. 

  Tom raised a brow, taking the package from her grasp and his eyes became heavy for a moment. His voice a low whisper, “are you always this obvious with your emotions?”

  Hermione straightened her back, raising her chin and barely being able to reel in her joyous demeanor. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” She then looked at Delilah, beaming with a huge grin. “Happy Christmas!”

  When she left, Tom clicked the door shut and turned. Meeting Delilah’s questioning eyes. 

  “It’s for you.”

  She perked up but he shook his head. “It’s for later.”

  “But—“

  “Patience, darling.”

  She huffed, not letting the name of endearment get the better of her. “How are you not going to let me open a gift on Christmas?”

  He shook his head at her, walking over and placing the small package in his jacket pocket that hung off the chair. 

  “Because I can, now get dressed. There’s meetings to attend.”

  “You’re calling Christmas breakfast a meeting?”

  “It sure as hell feels like one.”

   He’d been right. 

  Besides polite exchanges and the passing of gifts when the meal first started, conversation quickly turned towards planning.  More specifically, their plan to leave. 

  Harrison wasn’t happy in the slightest. “I’m not fond of the idea. Letting you saunter off to the past, especially with my sister.”

  “I don’t need you to be fond of the idea, nor do I need your approval.” Delilah bit, still furious with him for what he had been doing to Tom. 

  Sensing an argument was about to unfold, Hermione cleared her throat. “The safest place for you to use a time-turner would be Hogwarts. Though given walking on grounds would be a suicide mission, it’s best you do it in the out reaches of the Forbidden Forest.”

  Tom nodded in agreement, his chest tightening at the notion they were finally going back. That the Hogwarts in the past was still in one piece. Untarnished by bloodshed and ruin that he was responsible for.

  “The best time to go would be New Years,” he began. His eyes aglow as he laid the groundwork of their mission out in his head. “The men patrolling the castle are low ranking and are bound to be celebrating, to an extent at least. They’ll be more distracted and most likely won’t be paying much attention, if it all, to the forest.”

  Harry hummed, sleep clinging to the skin beneath his eyes. Though the holiday did allow him let go for a few moments, the war still had its talons sunk into his back. Every nerve pulsing with the want to fight. To win. To end this bloody mess. 

  He just wanted to rest.

  But, despite all his desperate pleas to the empty sky, he knew that wasn't option.

  “I still think we should go with you.”

  Delilah’s lips pressed into a small, tired smile. Offering some pathetic semblance of an apology. Or maybe pity. Knowing he’s heard the words she was about to say a hundred times. 

  “You’ve got to stay here. This war is yours, let us handle the one in the past.”

  “She’s right, Harry.” Hermione offered softly. Watching the turmoil of guilt and fury brim in his eyes. “Let them deal with Grindelwald.”

  “You-Know-Who will suffer from your wrath soon enough,” Tom said. The table turned to look at him, Harry’s eyes latching onto the black hole that was Tom’s stare. The man seemed to suck in and eradicate any light that even dared to get too close. “Give him hell, why don’t you?”

  Something passed over Harry’s face, making Delilah lean back in her seat a bit. 

  It was dark, and vicious in nature. The intent to kill with the fury of the heavens in the eyes. 

  A mirror image of Tom. 

  Harry nodded once, a sense of understanding passing between the two for the first time. The air was heavy with foreboding events soon to unfold. 

  Armageddon was about to begin.

Chapter Text

  Floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she made her way down the hall, warm lights flickering beneath doors as she went. Not many in the Order were sleeping. 

  Everyone's anxiety had been building over the last week, their departure date running towards them at full speed. Part of her couldn't believe they were actually leaving tomorrow morning. The mere thought felt like a dream she couldn't quite get a grasp on. 

  To think, she'd spent all those months in the past trying desperately to get back. To see everyone again. Yet she'd spent her entire time here wanting to go return.

  She knew they needed to. Both journeys were necessary. However, Delilah kept trying not to let herself wander down the path of curiosity. 

  Wondering what she'll do once this was all over. Wondering where she'll go. If she would even make it that far. She had evaded death enough times already, one could only hope her luck hadn't run out. 

  Reaching her destination, she gnawed at her lip and considered. Not wanting to do this, yet knowing she'd hate herself if she didn't. 

  With labored breath, she raised a hand and knocked once. The sound of feet shuffling along the floor meeting her ears before there was a click and the door opened. 

  "Delilah?"

  She smiled up at Blaise, "can we talk?"

  He opened his mouth, barely a breath passing, before he pressed his lips together and nodded. Stepping aside to let her walk in. 

  His room was neat, as she expected. He had always been a rather meticulous person when it came to his living space. Wanting the finest decor and everything had to be in the right place, not an inch off or he'd spend a whole afternoon correcting it. 

  She could only imagine he wasn't the happiest at the fact he had to stay in a small, old room that had aged and mixed matched design. Unlike the rest of the house that smelt of dust, his room smelt of expensive cologne. Delilah couldn't help but smile however as she spotted a few of Luna's things hanging up inside his wardrobe. 

  "So, what brings you here?" He asked, shutting the door and leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. His dark eyes watched her carefully as she looked around the room for a moment. 

  Biting at her cheek, she willed herself to look at him. Memories of their school years flashing in her head like some joyfully morbid picture show. 

  "We're leaving tomorrow morning."

  His jaw tightened, his face unreadable and she longed to know what he was thinking. All he did was nod his head once, "I know."

  "If we could stay longer I would but—"

  Blaise rubbed at his eyes, lifting a hand to pause whatever she was going to say. "It's alright, you don't owe me an explanation. You're doing what has to be done."

  Her lips pressed into a smile that felt too painful to wear, "I'm going to miss you." She had only just gotten him back, albeit their moments at the house were few and far between. Their friendship wasn't the same as it once was, and she knew it never would be again. But she couldn't help the slow cracks of heartbreak that began to show themselves on her heart. 

  He offered her a smile in return, though it was dejected. "We'll see each other again, one day."

  Delilah nodded, her eyes beginning to feel pressure that made her lightheaded. She wouldn't cry, the thought of it almost seemed selfish. 

  "Yeah, one day."

  Because that was the truth of it. Although they could work out as many formulas as they like, there was no guarantee she could get back at an accurate date. Time moves differently, one can never tell. 

  A year had gone by for her while it was mere months for them. Perhaps if she did come back it would be the other way around. 

  She wanted to hug him, but her feet stayed put. The notion of sentiment felt off bounds, now. They weren't the people they once knew. 

  Delilah had spent the whole night tossing and turning. Not feeling bad about keeping Tom up because he spent a good majority of the night at the desk. 

  Flipping through pages of notes, a sort of feral hunger in his eyes as he took in information. His nerves itching at the prospect of a fight, of their journey ahead. 

  As dawn reared its head, she sat up eventually and watched him. He had showered a little while ago and his hair was damp, making it look black and curls fell over his eyes. 

  The beauty of him was dangerous. 

  As if sensing her stare, he licked his lips, eyes still glued to the pages. "Morning."

  She stifled a yawn, "Happy birthday."

  At that he turned, the lamp light casting shadows across his face in a harsh composition of chiaroscuro. The image was haunting and breathtaking, especially with the look of disapproval on his features. 

  "It's not my birthday."

  "Technically it is," she countered, simply to annoy him. She yawned again, eyes watering. "Truth be told I don't even know how old I am anymore."

  He hummed, his eyes sinking in thought for a moment as something passed over his face. "That must be liberating."

  "I suppose, but it's also a bit frightening."

  "Don't they go hand in hand?" He stood up then, walking to the wardrobe and pulled out his clothes. More specifically the outfit he had been wearing when they first arrived. 

  Despite loving how modern clothes looked on him, she did miss the suits he would wear. 

  "Get dressed," he said as he buttoned up his shirt before tucking it into his trousers. Tom then looked at her, excitement clearly brewing under the service. "All of time awaits."

  After getting ready she made her way down to the kitchen, main Order members already there. Some hunched over plans while others nursed cups of tea. The room thrummed with anticipation. She held the letter from Dumbledore tight in her hands, the paper crinkled a bit from her grip.

  Tom's eyes found her immediately, looking her up and down slowly with precision. Taking in the dress she wore and how her hair was curled and pinned. 

  His gaze then dragged up to meet her eyes, the intensity of it made her feel on fire. 

  "Great! You're here." Hermione called out, pulling them both from the trance but Tom was still looking at her. Her cheeks flushed but she cleared her throat and walked in, joining everyone else. 

  "Let's begin," Harry said, everyone settling down and watching him carefully. 

  Her heart leapt in her throat when Hermione pulled out the time-turner, the golden necklace dangling like a corpse as the sand moved in the hour glass. 

  "How will we know if you succeed?" Harry said after a tense moment, tearing his eyes away from the device and looking at her. 

  "Only you'll know, we'll be in the dark in the past."

  There was a pause, the air so thick Delilah felt as if her throat was closing up when she tried to breathe in. 

  "And can we trust each other?" Harry finally asked, a question in his eyes. A test of sorts, though she wasn't sure what they would gain from this. They would never trust one another. 

  Tom wasn't phased by Harry's intensity. He blinked, slow and calm and his voice reverberated around the room. 

  "Perhaps not, but we can understand one another."

  A beat of silence, Harry's jaw clenched once before he nodded. 

  Hermione let out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding and passed Delilah the time-turner. Her eyes were bright and hopeful. Just maybe they were one step closer to winning. On both ends. 

  The cool material biting into her palm as she grabbed it, a thank you being spoken between their glance. 

  "We get the remaining two Hallows and we end this, for good." She spoke to Tom, who had just torn his stare away from Harry. 

  "We'll leave in a moment," he spoke to her quietly before looking back to the green-eyed boy across from him. "Can I speak to you?" 

  "Absolutely not—" Ron began but Harry waved him off. 

  "It's fine," he gestured to the hall, not sparing anyone a glance as he did so. 

  Tom followed him out, feeling Delilah stare at the back of his head as he did so but he ignored it. His sole focus was the Boy-Who-Lived. 

  Harry led them to the war room, his shoulders tensed but not from nerves or fear. It was simply the war weighing on them, pulling his strings taught and directing all his moves. A mere soldier being guided by a puppeteer of fate. 

  Tom shut the door behind him, watching Harry with a keen eye, his focus trailing to the scar hidden behind his hair. 

  It was a white-pink, some branching parts of the lightning bolt faded with age seamlessly into his skin. It was a remarkable sight, one he was sure had a good story. 

  "How'd you get that?" His voice echoed in the room and Harry nearly flinched. 

  Nearly. 

  His jaw clenched and his hand absentmindedly went up to touch the scar. 

  "You."

  "The night your parents died, I presume?"

  Harry's eyes narrowed, "you're not one to shy away from an uncomfortable conversation are you?"

  Tom shook his head, "I'm afraid not." 

  He tilted his head, a predator in raw form as he observed. Gears turned behind his dark eyes as he thought back to the story of the Potters deaths. How a baby boy of barely one could defeat a war lord. More strangely, how he overcame the killing curse. It didn't make sense. 

  "How'd you survive?"

  Harry sighed, leaning against the desk with his hands supporting his weight. "My mum, she..." he ran a hand through his hair. "It was love—"

  Tom clicked his tongue, "it's blood magic. Not love."

  Harry narrowed his eyes. "Well it worked. The killing curse bounced right off me, into you."

  "But You-Know-Who also still lived?"

  He nodded, not seeing the point of this. 

  Tom bit his cheek, that still didn't make sense. The killing curse decimates what it touches, that's the law by nature. He did have a theory, but he needed to know more. 

  And if he was right... a storm was approaching on the horizon. One he wasn't sure anyone could be ready for. 

  "Your scar," he began, licking his lips after he spoke. "I've heard from the others, it tends to become active when he's around?"

  Harry raised a shoulder, "yes and no. It also becomes affected with strong emotions, sometimes I even see things. I see him. The things he does."

  Something flickered in Tom's eyes that made Harry lean back a bit. Caution coursing through his body. 

  "And can he see you? Your thoughts, memories?"

  There was a tense silence as Harry stared at him, but surety set his jaw firm as he shook his head no. 

  "I see," is all Tom said for a moment before opening the door, ignoring the question in Harry's eyes. "We best get back to the others, I'm sure you'll be glad to have me gone."

  "Indefinitely," Harry said tightly. 

  As Tom walked out he clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, his mind reeling at a thousand miles per hour with this new revelation. 

  Ignoring all the Order members he passsd as he went back to the kitchen, he wondered if they'd be able to handle it. What was to come. 

  He had been right. 

  God help them all. 

  Delilah was hugging Luna goodbye when Tom walked back into the kitchen, his spine rigid and his eyes dangerous. 

  As he neared she raised a brow at him, "what is it?"

  He sighed, bemused at the notion she was able to decipher him so easily. Leaning in, his lips grazed her ear and she couldn't help the goosebumps that took over her skin. 

  His voice was low, "I'll tell you once we leave."

  She huffed, a bit annoyed but she didn't argue further as Harry followed in after. Sparing Tom his own questioning glance. 

  Turning to her friends, she did her best to smile. Heart aching a bit at the notion Harrison wasn't there even though she was still furious at him. Blaise wasn't there either, he had to leave to see his mother. And though she was glad she got to talk to him last night, it didn't feel like enough.

  Hermione bit her lip, her eyes tearing up a bit before she sprang forward and crushed Delilah in a hug. "I'm going to miss you so much."

  Tightening her hold on the girl, Delilah shut her eyes and sighed. "I'm going to miss you too 'Mione."

  She pulled back, smoothing down Delilah's hair and her face turned fierce as she looked at her. "You stay safe, okay? You're not allowed to die."

  Delilah laughed lightly, "it seems the universe agrees with you on that one." 

  She then looked at Harry, not knowing what to expect. His green eyes shined brightly behind his glasses as he looked at her, seeming to be at a mental debate with himself. 

  She bit her cheek, "Harry—"

  He stepped forward and hugged her, his form engulfing her with how tall he was and he sighed with his eyes shut as well. 

  "Be careful, Delilah. Please." 

  She blinked in a moment of shock before her mind caught up to her and she hugged him back, finally feeling like some semblance of their friendship was back despite her now leaving. 

  "I'll try." 

  Leaning away he looked down at her, his eyes flicking between hers and his brows creased. 

  "I hope you know what you're doing." 

  All she could offer him was a smile as he then looked at Tom.

  "Kill the bastard, will you?"

  Tom's lip twitched into a smirk, "you do just the same."

  He stepped closer to Delilah and grabbed her hand, thumb running circles into the back of it and he felt the familiar chill. 

  "Ready?" His voice was soft, patient. 

  She looked at them all again, her heart heavy but she knew what had to be done. A small, tight smile on her lips as a notion of goodbye. 

  Delilah looked back at Tom, his gaze settling her. 

  "I'm ready."

  The world fell away around them as they apparated to the Forbidden Forest.

Chapter Text

    They landed with their full body weight slamming into the ground, the earth tilting at dangerous angles as Delilah’s vision swam and she clutched onto Tom’s arm. 

  The air was heavy with moisture, and as she looked up to the sky gray clouds littered her vision. It must’ve just rained, given her shoes were also sinking a bit into the ground. Part of her was almost giddy to go back to the forties.

  She felt like she belonged there.

  “Well, one step closer to home.” Tom said dryly, looking down at his leather shoes in disgust as mud caked the sides. 

  “Don’t tell me you were homesick this entire time,” she stated as she began to make the trek through the forest. 

  Tom scoffed, though fell silent in a moment of thought. He surely preferred his time to the nineties. But being homesick felt dramatic. “Yes, I was just aching to get back to Malfoy and Lestrange. What on earth would I ever do without them.” 

  Delilah smiled at him over her shoulder, “I’m so happy you were finally able to admit it.”

  His eyes narrowed, “shut up.”

  They fell into a comforting silence after a while, the only sound meeting their ears was the snap of branches or crunches of fallen leaves. 

  Tom’s mind was far less quiet however, his head was racing with what all there was to do. Not only there in the forties, but in the future. He hoped Harry was one to keep true to his word, and hoped the boy did have, or at least would develop, a stomach for murder. Harry had to kill Voldemort, there was no skipping that step. 

  And he had to kill Grindelwald. 

  He couldn’t help the slight thrill to the notion. Sure, he’s killed people before, but they were no one. Not really. His eyes turned to Delilah, knowing she’d lose her mind if she knew he thought that. But he couldn’t help it, no matter what she thought or expected of him, he knew he really didn’t care about the lives he’s taken. He didn’t care then, why care now?

  Gellert Grindelwald, though. A wizard of legend, and to have his blood spilled by Tom’s hand… It was an ecstatic thought. 

  “So,” Delilah stopped once they came to a clearing and Tom stood at her side. Her eyes trailed down to his hand, admiring the piece for a moment before talking. “You’ve really had it this entire time?”

  He lifted his hand and looked at the ring as well, watching how it caught in the light. “Apparently, though I must admit I feel incredibly dull for the late recognition. I should’ve known… or sensed it, I don’t know. I hate feeling stupid.” Tom looked at her then, a cocky grin on his lips. “That’s your job.”

  “Shut up,” she bit as she punched him in the arm. Delilah knew she was smart, but even she could admit she was infuriatingly slow at times. “How’d you come across that thing anyway?”

  He tensed for a moment, “it’s a family heirloom.”

  “Yeah I got that bit, and not to be crude but you grew up an orphan.”

  “Would there be any success in telling you it’s none of your business?”

  “No.”

  “Or lying to you?”

  “Nope.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “Thank you, now spill.”

  Tom watched her for a moment, considering as he twisted it around his finger. Memories of the event flashing behind his eyes and Delilah shrunk back a bit at the demeanor change.

  “I killed them all.”

  She appeared to stop moving, everything about her seemed to freeze. Even her breathing. Maybe her heart too, before everything shot forward in motion again. She turned away from him and wrapped her arms around herself, staring intently at a small body of water a few paces away from them. 

  Delilah didn’t know what to think, or feel, really. She knew this information already, or at least a vague history reading of it. She knew who he was, and who he became. So why did it feel like a shock? 

  It was like every cell in her body was constantly fighting against her over this. Over him. 

  He’s done terrible things. She’s not so deep in denial to know he’s by no means a great person. He’s a murderer. 

  What is wrong with her?

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “I should be running away from you screaming.”

  “Technically you already did that bit when you found out who I was, so I think you’re covered.”

  “You’re horrible."

  “I am.”

  She gnawed at her lip and finally looked at him. He had changed, she knew that. But some part of her felt that wasn’t enough. That he had to be held accountable. But by who? She sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do it. And she knew he didn’t care. Empathy for his family died along with his mother. 

  “Do you regret it?”

  “Do you really want to hear my answer to that?”

  She turned away again, “I don’t know.”

  This conversation felt like a brick wall. 

  “Has the ring done anything weird? I mean you’re carrying around one of the Hallows, it must have done something in all those years you’ve had it.”

  His jaw clenched, debating on whether or not to tell her when there was a noise suddenly echoing around them.

  Whispers.

  It was nearly deafening. 

  “Tom we should–”

  They were suddenly swarmed by black fog, forms ripping past them in the pitch dark with voices louder than ever. 

  Delilah couldn’t see or hear anything over the noise. Not even her own voice as she tried calling out to Tom. The fog almost felt like sand against her skin as forms ripped past her, tearing into her skin and eventually one ran right into her, knocking her right to the ground.

  It didn’t last long, she hardly had any time to get her wits about her when she was picked off the floor and slammed into a tree, pain shooting up her spine and into her head immediately. Her ears were ringing and she hardly registered the whispers had stopped and the black fog settled into the shape of people.

  Her vision was still swimming as her eyes landed on the last person she ever wanted to see.

  “My my, what a prize we have here,” his voice was sinister. 

Tom had also been thrown to the ground, but he also got up as quickly as he could and had his wand out at the ready. He shook his head to get rid of the dizziness and felt something warm start to trickle down his forehead.

  Everything felt eerily silent, and not to mention empty. 

  “Delilah!-”

  A blade was suddenly at his throat. 

  He took a small moment to calm his breathing before easily ripping the knife away from him, almost like it was placed there in a jest.

  The moment he turned around his vision went red.

  “You.”

  “ You ,” Bellatrix mocked. 

  “I must admit I’m a bit impressed to see you’re standing,” his voice a low hum, the anger of it though was nearly deafening.

  “My lord takes great care of me.”

  “Oh I bet he does, what’s a master without a hound dog.”

  Her eyes narrowed, her hand clenching her wand as the other held her knife. “Who are you?”

  Tom’s grin was sinister, “you’re going to find out very soon.”

Chapter Text

   Without any further hesitation, Tom’s wand flicked forward with such ferocity he knew he might’ve strained something. He didn’t care. He was seeing red and the spell glimmering around them reflected that. 

  Bellatrix let out an excited squeal of delight, but fear was evident in her wild eyes. She knew what he had been capable of, he nearly killed her once. And it was clear this time he was much more angry. Her own arm twisted and a curse shot forth. 

  He wanted to laugh, and without realizing it he was. The sound was sinister and foreign, he sounded like a mad man as he hurled another cruciatus curse at her—one after another in a thundering procession. 

  Merlin, she looked frightened now. He felt dizzy as he lashed at her, and though she was able to block each curse, it was making her stance and strength crumble. Her feet were skidding and dragging against the dirt, not being able to stand still for more than a second. All she could focus on was blocking the curse. 

  The window was open. 

   Evertestatum .

  He didn’t waste a moment as she was flying through the air and shot the cruciatus curse at her again, slamming right into her chest and she fell to the ground in a pathetic heap of twitching flesh. 

  He dropped to one knee at her side and his hand wrapped around her throat and brought her head off the ground, keeping it still as the rest of her body thrashed in agony. 

  Her eyes were bulging, but she refused to scream. Her face was red and veins were swollen beneath her pale skin as she let out agonizing but silent yells of frustration behind clenched teeth. 

  He forced her to look at him, and just then— yes there it is. Recognition . Tom’s face was white as a ghost, but carved from marble as he revealed nothing but pure hatred as he stared at her. There was a dead look to him, while his eyes were like the pits from hell and fathomless. He was an empty carcass of a boy who had been overtaken by a monster.

  If Bellatrix believed in God, she would say the devil was leering over her delivering his judgment.

  But no, she knew who this was. 

  “Say it.”

  His voice was calm, deep, and horrifying. He was giving nothing away, he offered no solace in her terror. 

  She choked out a scream and blood spatter out and over his face. 

  Tom didn’t know what happened. 

  He could’ve just used the spell. It was a memorized lullaby on his lips, but he didn’t use it. 

  He could smell blood— he could taste it. 

  He needed it. 

  An insatiable hunger took over him and he let himself retreat into the dusty crevices of mind. It was like he took a step back inside body as black ink started to creep around the corners of his vision. 

  The inky strings wrapped around each of his limbs and made him into a grotesque puppet for the morbid hunger of bloodlust. 

  His body snapped to attention when his mind went silent and a newfound strength surged through his veins. 

  The creature was loose.

  Tom stood up, Bellatrix’s neck still tight in his grip and her feet kicked out in jerks of desperation. His held tilted to the side as he watched her for a moment. 

  Pathetic.

  He slammed her up against a tree and a sharp gasp for air broke past her in a wail. 

  “Wait—“

  His free arm jerked back and surged forward, his fist driving into her stomach and she felt like she was about to puke. Her nerves were on fire.

  He threw her to the ground and pounced. 

  All he could hear was the crack of bones and the squelching sound of flesh and wet sounds of blood. 

  Again and again and again. 

  His fists found purchase in her skull. 

  Only when she stopped twitching and screaming did he fall back. Panting and drenched in warm crimson. 

  He hadn’t felt this elation in over a year. It was something dangerously addictive and when he got a taste of it he went into a frenzy.

  This was different though. 

  Her death was written in the stars. 

  He staggered up, but his vision was so hazed he genuinely couldn’t tell if she was still breathing. Tom was panting as he half heartedly wiped blood off his face with his arm, but all it did was smear it a bit. 

  Looking down at his hands they were dripping and his own blood that leaked from his knuckles was falling in fat droplets to the dirt. Turning the ground into a dark sludge of bloodied mud. Her shattered bones had cut deep into skin as he hit her, but the pain was only an echo. 

  Looking around, he spotted his wand laying on the ground and picked it up, the light wood felt slick in his hand as it quickly got stained. He turned back to Bellatrix’s body, watching with a burning fury for any movement. 

  Just the slightest rise of her chest set him off and the forests around him burned green before she fell completely still. 

  Bellatrix couldn’t hurt her anymore. 

  He had to make sure of it. 

   She couldn’t move. 

  He seemed to float towards her in a mass of black shadows and his eyes were piercing. 

  Looking at him hurt more than frightened her. That realization was enough to give her a headache. Regardless she found she couldn’t speak, she hadn’t the faintest idea what to do. She just hoped Tom was somewhere else, and in one piece.

  “Delilah Meddows,” his voice was a hiss and she felt herself go cold. 

  He was a heartbreaking sight. 

  “I don’t doubt you’re curious,” he began, his movements were so different now. He more… not human. She knew that from the sight of him, but seeing it in his mannerisms and body language was something else entirely. It was a mockery to how he used to be. 

  “You’re so happy with him now… why would I kill you? It’s truly an exciting tale.” He came to a stop in front of her, the crimson almost looked like it would start leaking blood. 

  “You left him.”

  Her brows furrowed. That can’t be right.

  “When?”

  Her voice shocked her and appeared to take him a bit off guard, though it was incredibly hard to tell. She didn’t know this person. She never would. He was separate, Voldemort even phrases it himself. 

  He tortured her, killed her. 

  Tom would never... at least now.

  They’re two different entities. 

  He looked at her for a moment, thinking. Some actions were so basic he’d never be able to shed them. Little crumbs of who he used to be dropping at his feet in a thin layer of dust. 

  “The ministry.” He finally said, his voice sounded like it was sitting on the edge of a blade. He wasn’t sure.

  Was… Tom had been right. 

  The laugh that left her made her eyes go wide immediately after and she slapped a hand over her mouth. 

  His hand shot out and took hold of her face, his claw like nails pin pricking her skin and she stared at him wide eyed. 

 “Tell me,” he hissed. “Tell me what changed or I’ll force it out of you.”

 “Go to hell.” She bit through her teeth.

   The moment Tom caught sight of him he froze. His body feeling out of place as the adrenaline from the kill was fighting with the astonishment and disbelief at who was in front of him. It was one thing to see him in a vision, but to have his demise physically there… it was all too tangible then. 

  Delilah’s scream snapped him out of it and he surged forward, taking some of the nearby Death Eaters by surprise but he easily made them fly back with a silent curse. 

  He only faltered slightly when Voldemort turned around and they made eye contact. It was horrid.

  He couldn’t hesitate and threw the first thing to come to mind.

  Green flashes in front of him and only then did that seem to make Voldemort snap out of his shock and dodge the spell.

  As much as Tom would love to kill him, they had to get out of there. He didn’t want to risk anything, especially since they were so close. Not to mention he knew Voldemort wouldn’t spare either of them. He may hold them for questioning, but besides that there was no need.

  “Delilah run!” He shouted as spells began to fire over their heads from multiple Death Eaters surrounding them. Tom could barely see a thing with all the glimmering lights. 

  They need to run. That’s all that mattered. 

  Delilah only then realized she was free to move when Tom shouted. His presence caused Voldemort to lose focus and the spell set her free. 

  She wouldn’t leave him. 

  Without a thought she began fighting. A swath of dark cloaks descended on her second by second but she couldn’t stop. A sudden burst of adrenaline felt like it was tearing her nerves apart as spells left her wand in a thundering procession. 

  “How are you here!” Voldemort’s voice was a boom that made chills ravish her skin despite how overheated she felt. After searching hastily she saw them, Tom’s blood drenched form reflecting the same deep crimson alight in Voldemort’s eyes. 

  Both looking absolutely furious and horrified, if even possible. 

  The odd thing though, Voldemort wasn’t fighting back. All he was doing was defending himself against curses, never taking a shot at Tom. 

  It only took a second for her to realize it was because he was frightened. Of course he was. His whole life’s purpose was self preservation— he wouldn’t dare risk the life of his past self. 

  Voldemort didn’t know one thing however. 

  The timelines were different. 

  Tom appeared to notice this too, after all he’d slowly been backing Voldemort into a corner. Curse after curse slamming into Voldemort’s defenses it sounded like a shock wave was resounding in the air each time. 

  There was almost a rabid look in Tom’s eyes, the dark in them a black hole of loathing and desperation as he looked at the creature in front of him. At his failure. 

  He didn’t realize it but he was screaming, he sounded like a mad man and he knew he looked like one too. 

  At the exact window of opportunity Tom shot forward and dragged Voldemort closer by his robes, driving him right into his already maimed fist and pain shot yo his arm but he couldn’t stop. 

  Delilah dodged another spell and nearly fell when she reached them, her foot tripping over wood. She cursed at herself mentally for her lack of balance before she realized how vulnerable Voldemort was. 

  Just feet away. 

  Her eyes flicked down. 

  Now or never. 

  Shooting forward, her hand swiped out and grabbed hold of the Elderwand in Voldemort’s hand. The creature was too distracted and screaming to notice. 

  “Now!”

  Tom practically flew towards her and grabbed her arm, and the world warped around them in a crushing inception of smoke and magic. 

  They landed in a matter of seconds only yards away, both of them shaking but Tom managed to loop the time-turned around both their necks. He only hoped the right time was on it as he spun it. 

  As the battle around them began to change, Voldemort’s screams were all that could be heard, but he grabbed hold of her face with his bloodied hands. “Fuck, I love you.”

  And he kissed her as everything faded.

  When they finally stopped, when they were finally back in time… all she could do was stare at him. 

  God she had really lost it hadn’t she? 

  Delilah felt too frightened to even bring it up in case she imagined it and ripped herself away from him as soon as they got their footing. 

  “We should go find Dumbledore—“

  “What? No, Delilah—“

  “That would be best, actually we should go right now. Or I could just go, I know how much you hate him—“

  “Delilah—“

  “You can just head back to the house—“

  “‘Lilah please, look at me.” His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her into him, forcing her eyes to meet his. 

  He searched her features for what felt like ages, waiting for the panic to leave but it never did. He didn’t necessarily want to talk about it and it appeared she didn’t either. Nor was it really the time. 

  His brain was screaming at him for even saying such a thing. Where the hell did that even come from? Had he detached himself from his rationality that much during the fight? 

  Shaking his head, he sighed lightly, bidding his thoughts to shut up for once. “We need to find the others first.” He paused for a moment and brushed her hair back, relaxing a bit as some tension left her. “Something doesn’t feel quite right.”

  Delilah took a deep breath before nodding, “okay.”

  As they walked through the tall grass, sand even really began to crunch beneath their shoes and the safe house became noticeable over the dune. When they got closer however, Tom stopped her as his eyes narrowed. 

  “We’re too early.”

  Her brows furrowed and she looked closer at the house and the figures moving inside of it. Specifically two very similar looking figures. 

  They were a day too early. 

  “Are we just supposed to sit out here?”

  “It seems that way, yes.”

  “Great,” she slumped down on the sand and pulled her knees up to her chest. She hoped to see the others soon to take her mind off… things. A welcomed distraction. 

  Tom sighed and sat down next to her, not enjoying the distance he suddenly felt but was allowing it. It was probably for the best. 

  To pass the time he observed his ring, watching the laces of magic intertwine with each other but they were strained. The pulse of his horcrux thrumming violently, as if trying to break free and latch onto him again. 

  Was his soul a part of the Hallows? Would that mean anything? Would it change how it worked? 

  He bit at his cheek and turned to her, “may I see the wand?”

  Delilah blinked at him, not even realizing she had been holding onto it with such a vice-like grip that when she let go her knuckles began to cramp. 

  The second it met his skin he felt a shockwave of power shoot through him and his eyes went wide and jaw went slightly slack. 

  Her brow raised as she looked at him, “you okay?”

  He seemed as equally as confused but it was mingled with awe, “you didn’t feel it?”

  “Feel what?”

  Interesting. 

  He shook his head, “never mind.” As Tom looked at it closer and flipped it around in his hand he could tell how old the wood was. About how many different wizards and witches had held it and wielded its power. 

  There they were, side by side. The power to bring back life and the power to end it. 

  Just one more to go. 

  “What are you thinking?”

  Tom thought for a moment. He was thinking a million things. He just said the first one that came to mind. 

  “I’ve had a theory I believe is true about Potter.”

  “Oh? Which is what?”

  He finally looked at her, he had no idea how she would respond to this. “I believe he’s a horcrux.”

  A short laugh left her, “don’t be ridiculous.”

  Tom narrowed his eyes, “I’m not. It’s plain as day to see the signs.”

  “Yeah, well you would know, wouldn’t you?” She snapped and then turned away from him. 

  Delilah knew she was being unfair, but so much was going on inside her head she couldn’t keep up. She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “How?”

  “Well when he told me the story of how he got the scar, that alone seemed a bit obvious. But I wasn’t sure till he mentioned his… side effects? He feels what Voldemort feels, he can hear his thoughts, he can see what he sees. And it gets worse with rage.”

  Turning to look at him, her brows were furrowed and her eyes filled with anguish. “Is there any way to get it out of him?”

  “Not one you’d like.”

  Delilah squeezed her eyes shut and let out a breath. 

  She just wanted to sleep. 

  Feeling movement beside her, she opened her eyes and saw him looking at her. “Get some rest.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You always say that.”

  “And you never believe me.”

    After a while Delilah eventually dozed off, her exhaustion dragging her into a deep slumber and she finally looked at rest for once. 

  That’s all he did. All he could do, really. 

  He was trying not to think about earlier but it felt like his mind had been infected with the thought. 

  Did he regret it? Did he mean it? 

  There were so many questions he didn’t know how to answer. 

  It just… spilled out of his mouth. The venomous honey dripped off his lips before he could process it. 

  No matter how sweet they tasted, his mind and body fought against the poison it would bring. Of the downfall they would ensue. 

  Love killed people, and Tom Riddle wanted her safe. 

Chapter Text

  Moonlight caught in the strands of her hair as she slept, her body rising and falling evenly as she was curled up in the sand. 

  Tom sat holding the Elderwand, watching her and trying not to let his mind go back to earlier. How could he be so stupid? Never in a million years did he think those words would have left his mouth. But in a mangled mess of blood and adrenaline, she had been standing in front of him looking so— just her . It felt like, in that brief moment, like they were hurtling through space. Just the two of them. 

  Like the world had dropped from beneath their feet and there they stood. Surrounded by nothing but stars and each other's company and the words had come rushing from his throat in an instant- like if he didn’t say them then he would choke on what little oxygen was left. 

  He sighed, dropping his head into his hands and the wood from the wand pressed into his forehead. The thrum of magic low and nearly soothing, yet equal parts electrifying. One thing he was having trouble grasping was her reaction. Now, Tom was no romantic, but the last thing he was expecting to see in her eyes was horror. 

  She looked so frightened. 

  Tom looked at her again, even though she was asleep, exhaustion still clung to her features. Did she not believe him? 

  Did he believe himself? 

  He threw his head back, annoyed. Nothing felt real at the moment. His world had completely turned on its axis when he met her. Originally, he was supposed to be in London right now, getting a job at Borgin and Burke’s. Hunting down more artifacts to potentially use. He was supposed to be creating more horcruxes. 

  He was supposed to not be caring about anyone but himself. And oh how much easier that would all be. 

  A glint of light then caught his eye, and in the distance he saw the door to the house opening for a brief moment before closing. The form that had exited moving briskly. 

  Tom sat up a bit, eyes narrowing in an attempt to see a bit better in the dark. The moonlight only gave so much away as clouds passed under it. 

  Once he realized who it was, he saw red for a moment before having to reel himself back to where he sat. 

  Aleksander had snuck out of the house. 

  Tom stood, watching the boy weave himself through the tall beach grass carefully. Though he didn’t seem like he was in a rush. He wasn’t running. More so it looked like he was going to something. Tom’s eyes tracked ahead and his stomach sank a little bit.

  Elio’s grave. 

  His jaw clenched and he looked down at Delilah, who he hoped was dreaming of happier times. Before all this shit blew up in their face. Lingering one last glance on her, his grip tightened on the Elderwand and he began walking. His shoes sank into the sand making his steps uneven. He hated sand. Nonetheless he was careful, feeling like he was stalking prey as he watched Aleksander come to a stop a few yards away. 

  Once he was close enough, Tom crouched a bit so he wouldn’t be seen so easily. Watching Aleksander from a shorter distance, but his own eyes trailed down to the headstone in the sand for a brief moment. All that was written on it was Elio . The group made the collective decision not to add his last name. Given his own kin had killed him. 

  Tom looked back at Aleksander, who had an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at the grave. He looked gaunt, had lost weight, and scars littered his body. Familiar scars only a certain curse could leave. One only a blonde girl knew. 

  He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged a bit at his lips before he snapped out of it. 

  The boy wasn’t allowed to mourn him. Then again, Tom didn’t feel he had that right either. 

  After a few moments of silence, Aleksander sighed. Eyes not wavering. “I know you’re there.”

  Jaw ticking, Tom debated on moving. Maybe it was a farce? Maybe he was just paranoid. 

  “Riddle, enough with this.” He sounded exhausted. 

  Tom stood slowly, making his way out of the grass and into the opening where the grave was. Their eyes met and there was nothing in Aleksander’s eyes but regret. Walking closer, Tom came to stand beside him, both silent for a little while. 

  “Why are you still here?” He asked, his whole body feeling heavy. Aleksander could’ve ran at any point, far away from the house full of people who hated him. 

  He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “What would be the point? I stay here and get murdered in my sleep? I go into hiding for the rest of my life always looking over my shoulder? I turn myself into the ministry and face hell in Azkaban? Grindelwald finds me and kills me? There are no options.”

  Tom looked at him then, his face hard and full of jagged edges as he glared at him. “And whose fault is that, Eques?”

  Aleksander flinched, still not looking at him. “I have no future left. I know that. I fucked up. In an extremely horrible way with life long consequences.”

  Tom hummed, thinking for a moment. “Why Grindelwald? What could he have possibly offered you?”

  His jaw clenched for a moment, eyes flickering back and forth over Elio’s name. His voice was a whisper when he spoke, “everything.” His head then dipped and he rubbed his eyes, “what I thought had been everything.”

  Tom thought to the future as he looked at Aleksander. What did Voldemort offer his followers? Hell, what did he offer the people who follow him now? Or then. Were they still his followers? 

  “What changed?”

  He laughed, finally looking at Tom. “It’s the same as any story, mate. A girl.”

  Tom’s brows furrowed, “Olive?”

  “I know you two used to— well I supposed that doesn’t matter now that you have Delilah but. Yeah, Olive.”

  Tom struggled to see how that would change anything but Aleksander started to laugh again, looking at Tom like he was the slowest person in the world. 

  “It happened to you too, you know. A girl. The right one comes along, wreaks havoc on your life and turns everything you thought you knew right on its head— and it feels like you can breathe for the first time. Only just realizing you’ve been suffocating your entire life. I can tell. You’re different from how you used to be. I knew the moment I saw you look at her at the ball. Tom Riddle was screwed.”

  Tom searched his face, trying to figure out if this was some sort of trick to garner just an ounce of sympathy that didn’t exist. But no, Aleksander had nothing left and he meant every word he had said. 

  Could it have been true, even then? He had despised Delilah at that point, finding her presence a nuisance because, well, because he couldn’t seem to get his thoughts in order. She was infuriating, acted like she always knew better than him, was dreadful at dancing, and he could never get her out of his head. His organized thoughts went up into flames the moment his eyes landed on her. 

  He thought back to the ball, and how she had looked walking down those steps in her dress with her wild hair all done up. He wished she wore it freely, liking the untamed mess of it more but she had still looked— she had looked beautiful. Tom just never allowed the word to take form then. 

  He remembered them being out in the snow, how she looked twirling as flecks fell in her hair and landed on her lashes. And how she had given him his gift, the cigarette box currently in his jacket pocket suddenly feeling warm against him at the memory. 

  “That's the look,” Aleksander muttered and it brought Tom out of his head, blinking away his thoughts of the girl currently asleep a few yards away from them. 

  Aleksander then pulled something from his own jacket pocket, the air falling even heavier on their shoulders as Tom caught the glint of a blade. “There’s nothing left for me.”

  Disgust pooled in his chest as he watched Aleksander offer him the dagger. “Do it. I’m dead anyway.”

  Tom began to step back. Why should Aleksander get a say when he dies when Elio didn’t? No matter how much he wanted to kill him. “Do it yourself, you coward.”

  Then he turned his back, not missing the panic that took hold of Aleksander’s face. He couldn’t do it himself. 

  “I’m the coward?” He yelled, though his words were an obvious plea in disguise. “What about you, huh? What the hell did you do? You dragged all of them there knowing the risk. Every second you’re with her, you’re putting her at risk. Elio is dead because—“

  Aleksander was then yanked forward by the collar of his shirt as Tom turned back around, his eyes suddenly alight with a calm fury. 

  “He’s dead because of you .”

  Aleksander looked at him with a deadpan expression, “we both know that’s not the whole truth.” He searched Tom’s eyes for a moment before seeming to find what he needed. “Maybe I was wrong.” Another breath. “He’s dead because of her.” The blade glinted. “And she'll die because of you. The whole world knows it."

  The blade seemed to drop into Tom’s free hand, his mind going blank as it cut through the space in front of him. More blood spattering on his face, joining Bellatrix’s from earlier. There was a heavy sound that hit the sand, as well as gurgling and Tom’s black eyes trailed down to see Aleksander grasping at his slit throat. 

  “No,” Tom said, his voice like ice. “ You'll die because of me. Never her.”

  Aleksander went still, blood seeping into sand beneath him. 

   They watched as their past selves left, Delilah stealing a few glances at him as they waited. Did he have even more blood on him? She was too exhausted to ask and she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to know. 

  “Come on,” Tom said after he deemed they were in the clear and set off towards the house. 

  They stopped in front of the door, looking at each other for a moment before Tom took the lead and opened it. 

  Pyrrhus blinked at them as they walked in the kitchen, his mouth frozen open as he was about to bite into a sandwich. His eyes taking in how they were covered in blood, “blimey, that was quick.”

  Delilah couldn’t help it as she ran towards him, tackling him in a hug and they fell back off the chair, landing in a heap on the floor. “ Merlin , Delilah—“

  “Gods I missed you!” She exclaimed, not at all feeling bad for the bruises she probably just gave him. 

  “It’s been five minutes,” he laughed, hugging her tight and not at all caring she was covered in blood and sand. Completely ignoring the glare Tom was sending his way. 

  “It’s been months, actually.” Tom said, leaning against the counter as he watched them sit up. Truth be told, he supposed he was appreciative of being in Pyrrhus’ company again. The familiarity of it was a comfort. 

  Pyrrhus furrowed his brow as he looked back at Delilah, “what happened?”

  After getting everyone in the kitchen, Delilah hugged each of them— sending Lolita and Olive to the floor in a tackle as well— and they laid everything out that had happened. 

  “And what about the Hallows?” Abraxas asked, looking between the two. It was clear they had been through a lot, not by the sight of them. It could just be felt. 

  Delilah looked at Tom, and he sighed for a moment before setting the wand on the table. “The elderwand.” He then took his ring off, setting it next to the wand and everyone’s eyes widened. “The resurrection stone.”

  “And we know where to get the invisibility cloak,” Delilah added, gnawing at her bottom lip as she observed the two items on the table. 

  “One issue though, Grindelwald is a Seer. So we need to somehow be unpredictable. Be two-faced in every action henceforth.”

  “Well that’s not going to get complicated,” Cain grumbled. Though he was glad to see them in one piece, there was still a lot of work to be done. 

  Aurora then ran into the room, a bit out of breath as she looked at everyone, “Aleksander is missing.”

  Panic only rose in the room for a moment before Tom’s voice rang out like a bell, making everyone fall silent. 

  “It’s been handled.” 

  Olive whipped around, staring at him for a moment and every possible emotion appeared on her face in a second before she went still. Tom met her eyes, and as he thought about it, he could tell how much she’s grown. She had changed. All of them had. 

  Her voice was steady but quiet, “did he suffer?”

  Tom bit his cheek, watching the girl he had known for eight years fight a battle of grief behind her eyes. 

  “Not as much as I would’ve liked.”

  They stared at each other a moment longer before she nodded once, going back to her tea and Pyrrhus slung an arm over her shoulder. She closed her eyes at the contact and the chaos inside her seemed to finally become still. 

   Exhausted , Tom went back to their room after a whole day of catching up. Brief plans were discussed, but they needed a bit more time to work out the intricate details that had to be laid. 

  Walking in, Delilah was curled up on the bed reading a book. Her bottom lip was drawn between her teeth and he watched how her eyes flicked over the ink. 

  “What are you reading?” He asked as he began to shrug off his shirt. Though he had cleaned his face and hands, his shirt was still stained crimson as it fell into a bundle on the floor. 

  “Nothing you’d waste time on,” she hummed, flipping a page. 

  “Ah,” he said. “Romance, then.”

  Delilah rolled her eyes but there was a small smile on her face. Good. That’s all he needed. 

  Walking to the bed, he positioned himself on the empty side and continued to watch as she read. Though as time passed, it was obvious she wasn’t taking in a single word it said and was trying not to notice him. 

  Tom bit his cheek, thinking about those three stupid words. “Are you going back?”

  Delilah went still, finally looking at him and her eyes glowed in the candlelight. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want to go back?” He rephrased. 

  Shutting the book, Delilah allowed herself to finally think about it. Of what he had admitted earlier. The omission seemed so.. outlandish. Her body and mind didn’t know how to handle it. 

  Truth be told, maybe she went into shock? Delilah had never actually expected him to ever say it to her. And she had been okay with that. But now after hearing it, seeing how he looked when he told her— she wanted to hear it every second for the rest of her life but knowing him.. would he ever say it again? 

 “Please answer me,” his voice was soft and she shut her eyes. 

  She needed him to say it again, but on his own accord. 

  Her choice had been made months ago. “I want to be by your side, Tom.” She opened her eyes again, watching how his brown ones studied her and the warmth held in them as he did so. “Wherever you are. I want to be with you.”

  Coming closer, she rested her forehead against his, smelling the fresh tobacco on his breath and how warm he was. “But I can’t have you being afraid of me anymore.”

  His brows creased and his hands wrapped around her wrists, her hands holding his face in their cool touch. 

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “No that’s not—“ she let out a breath, frustrated that she couldn’t find the right words. “I thought I could settle for what it was. What it had been. But now after,

.. after what you said I need more. I need everything. I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe any longer if you never say those words to me again.”

  “Delilah I..” he took a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order but everything felt fuzzy with her so close to him. “This is new territory for me.” His hand moved from her wrist to her jaw, running his thumb along the edge. “But I’m mapping it out, I’m trying. I promise. I am.”

  Their eyes met, and like before, the world fell away. She was his existence. What he breathed. What made his heart work in his chest. 

  “I’m not afraid. Not anymore.”

Chapter Text

  Delilah slowly woke up, her mind still treading the thin line between dreams and reality. The only thing she could get a sense of was the rolling sense of nausea that rocked her body. 

  It was a burrowing, burning sensation that was searing through her chest right down into her stomach. She blinked a few times, a wail of pain nearly ripping through her mouth before it suddenly ceased. Sitting up, she felt dizzy and her vision speckled black before everything went back to normal.

  Something rustled beside her and she flinched before realizing it was Tom shifting in his sleep. It was still early morning, the sun not even kissing the sky yet. She knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep so she carefully got out of bed before heading down to the kitchen. 

  After making a cup of tea, she slumped into one of the chairs at the table and stared at the silver cigarette box. The sounds of the ocean greeting her ears through the cracked windows and she nearly let herself dream about just staying there forever.

  Her and Tom moving to the beach, spending their days soaked in the sun and lounging by the water. The domesticity of it was nearly enough to get her drunk but she shook her head. He'd never agree to a future like that. 

  Delilah's gaze turned back to the box and she gnawed at her lips. Why this box? She hadn't even gotten it till after she arrived in the forties. It was just sitting in a little shop in Hogsmeade, not even in an obvious place. The sun had just glinted off it at the right time so it caught her eye.

  She needed to talk to Dumbledore. He was the only one with answers but she knew Tom would rather swallow shards of glass than go to him for help. But just sitting there, the uncertainty of what was going to happen next sent a ravishing fire of anxiety ripping up her spine.

  Sneaking back up to their room, she quietly changed into different clothes and grabbed the letter she had gotten out of Dumbledore's desk when they went back to the nineties. Just as she was leaving the room her eyes caught onto Tom. He was laying on his stomach, his body sprawled out and his brown hair fell over his closed eyes as he breathed slowly and deeply. 

  She needed answers, and she left out the door.

  In the living room, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

  "Dumbledore's office," though she spoke it clearly, her voice barely rose above a whisper. Nonetheless, green flames engulfed her and her vision blurred as she was transported.

  She stumbled forward, Dumbledore's office coming into view. 

  Despite it being early morning, there the professor sat. A cup of tea steamed at his desk as he flicked through a book. Though now he was looking up at her through his glasses, looking a bit surprised but pleased to see her.

  "Good Morning," he greeted her, taking a sip of his drink and gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

  Her smile was tight lipped, the letter in her coat pocket burning a hole into her side.

  "Morning," she forced out.

  Clearly not missing her tone, Dumbledore snapped his book shut and placed it on his desk. Settling into his chair, he laced his fingers together and rested them against his stomach. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Delilah?"

  She bit the inside of her cheek, thinking back to what he told her. About how she would know when to open the letter. Part of her wasn't sure she could handle whatever was written in it, so why not give it to the author himself?

  "I have something for you," she dug into her pocket and raised the letter for him to see.

  His brow raised, noticing his handwriting. "Curious."

  "I want you to read it," her shaking hand dropped the letter on the table. She was staring at it so intensely she thought it might catch on fire. 

  "Are you sure? Have you read it?"

  She shook her head. 

  "I'm not sure-"

  "Please."

  Dumbledore sighed through his nose, looking at her a moment longer before reaching forward and picking up the letter. He picked up a letter opener and cut through the sealed wax as if he was slicing through butter. 

  His eyes flitted over whatever was written and his brows furrowed, one hand rubbing against his mouth.

  "I sometimes fear I'm too ambitious."

  Delilah frowned, "meaning?"

  He set the letter down, appearing worn at the edges which made trepidation start to claw at her insides.

  "Now, what I will tell you next, I need you to understand that I by no means meant any harm. At least I can only hope that is what my future self had intended. I pray he meant the best-"

  Her voice came out sharp despite it feeling like the floor was trembling beneath her feet, "what did you do?"

  Dumbledore let out a breath, "it seems that, in the future, the reason why you ended up here in the first place had to do with a plot to fix everything. As outlandish as that sounds, how impossible it sounds but... I went through with it, so it seems.

  "Your body clock, that was my doing. When you went to the Ministry and you grabbed that package. It was charmed and the clock was placed onto you the minute you touched it. It was a guarantee you'd be okay for your– for your journey ahead. You were to intercept Mister Riddle. The clock now no longer necessary, I knew it wouldn't once... once Mister Rosier sacrificed himself for you. That's enough to keep you protected now. The body clock isn't needed," he slid the letter towards her. "This tells you how to undo it." 

  Rage.

  Her vision was white and she could feel the Earth's rotation beneath her feet, spinning a thousand miles an hour. 

  She felt outside of her body as she shot up, her chair knocking over behind her. 

  Everything she had gone through was because of him. She was just a ploy for a bigger plan. Elio. 

  Without saying a word, ignoring whatever plea he was trying to make, she ripped the note from the desk and apparated. 

  She landed on shaking legs in the tall grass, feeling like daggers in her skin. Dried blood coated the corners of her mouth and was caked in her nose, making it hard to breathe.

  Taking a step, her muscles trembled and her lungs screamed out and agony. Why must she keep fighting? What was the point? Her body was begging her to give up. Just sleep. Just rest. Rest and it will all be over.

  Looking at the house, light from candles gleamed in the panes, making it look alive and she felt like crying. It was only a few yards away yet felt like miles and miles and miles.

  Delilah didn't know where Tom was, and she couldn't trust anyone. A wail left her lips, making her sound like a wounded animal as she crumbled to the ground, her fingers clutching at the Earth as she convulsed and threw up.

  She was sweating, her hair sticking to her neck and cheeks and she scratched it away, aggravated and her mind was a mess, not taking note how her nails tore through her skin.

  Her chest was heaving, as if all the oxygen had been yanked away from the atmosphere, leaving her suffocating and alone and scared. She didn't know what to do.

  Everything had changed.

  Delilah knew the truth and she felt like screaming until she vomited her lungs and then her heart. She wanted to stomp on it, stab it, crush it within her fingers for making her feel so terrible and desperate and lonely.

  It was overwhelming, all her trust had been upended, mocked as if her feeling of betrayal was childish.

  How could he?

  Her mind chanted incessantly, making her ears ring and she pushed her forehead into the ground, gripping and yanking on her hair until her scalp burned, begging for her mind to stop talking.

  He was lying all along.

  Stop talking.

  He played you.

  Stop talking.

  He used you.

  Please stop talking.

  He never cared.

  Delilah blacked out, alone in a field, broken.

Chapter Text

    He’d been pacing the entire day, the moment he had woken up and realized she was gone. Not a trace or a letter to hint at where she had gone. That was until he heard the resounding crack of magic from somewhere outside. 

  Practically tearing through the door, Tom’s eyes raked over the surroundings of the house but couldn’t see anything nor anyone. He could feel it though, her magic. It was thrumming almost violently and he let the threads pull him. They yanked his body along almost desperately until he came to a sharp stop at the sight of her huddled over Elio’s grave.

  He rushed over and turned her onto her back, noticing how she was out cold and looked deathly ill. Blood was caked around her nose and mouth, but other than that she looked to be uninjured. He cursed silently to himself and he cradled her head to hit chest, her dead weight settling uncomfortably against him. From anyone else’s perspective she appeared to be dead and he didn’t like the feeling at all.

  Picking her up carefully, he noticed a letter discarded at her side and summoned that to his hold as well before heading inside. He ignored the concerned comments of everyone else and padded up the stairs as quickly as he dared, not wanting to disturb her so soon. Pushing the door open with his back, he then rested her on the bed and got to work on cleaning up the blood. Hoping she would wake up on her own before he let anxiety grip him and he summoned her back to consciousness. 

  He was still pissed at her for leaving unannounced, even more so since she showed up looking battered but at least she was okay. She had to be. He brushed some of her hair out of her face and his voice left him softly, “wake up, Lilah. Please.”

  As if he had spoken some complicated spell, she then appeared to rouse from whatever deep slumber she had been in. Her eyes moving rapidly behind her eyes for a moment before she suddenly shot up. Looking pained and alert and heartbroken all at once. 

 “Hey,” Tom reached out for her and hated how she flinched, even though it was only for a moment before she rested against his hand that was holding the side of her face. His eyes searched hers for a moment, “what happened?”

  Her lip trembled and he feared she might cry, his mind reeling on what could’ve possibly happened. Delilah squeezed her eyes shut and took a shaking breath, pulling her knees up to her chest and he felt cut off from her now.

  “He played me.” Her voice was so quiet he hardly heard her.

  “Who did?”

  She curled in on herself harder before eventually stretching out again and tried to regain her composure. “This morning I left to see Dumbledore, about that letter he had left me from the future. And he… fuck .” She pressed her hands against her eyes. “He’s the reason my life is a mess.”

  Something dark and fascinatingly sinister gripped his features and a foreboding sense of fear rocked through her for a moment, his hidden rage seeming all too familiar and monsterly. “What did he do to you?” Tom’s voice was low, rough with barely tampered fury. 

  She tried to speak but she didn’t think she could, instead she found the letter on the nightstand and with a shaking hand she pressed it into his chest. Taking it from her gently, Tom’s gaze held hers for a moment before he unfolded the parchment. His face was unreadable as his eyes raked over the words written there.

  He leaned back and rubbed a hand against his mouth as he processed what exactly had happened to her. What Dumbledore had done for the sake of the greater good. Part of him almost wanted to laugh as he looked at those two words written on the page. Save him. Had Dumbledore really been so desperate? So exhausted from war that he, against her knowledge, sent a girl back in time to save his soul?  

  Tom was torn on the matter. Angry at the fact he was being used as some pawn and there was that nagging feeling that their whole… relationship had been orchestrated at the hands of the man he so despised. Yet he also felt strangely, deeply grateful for it all at once. Dumbledore had put Delilah in his path, and he couldn’t ignore the small itch of gratitude he felt. But save him? Really? Is that what she was supposed to be doing? 

  He wanted to laugh but thought better against it as anger took hold of him again. Remembering all the times she went cold and started to practically leak blood all because of the damned body clock he had put on her. The letter did instruct on how to remove it but…

  But what? Once it was removed she’d be back to normal, she wouldn’t have any more bloody mishaps but… God it was tempting. His mind went back to that fateful morning in Hogsmeade when they found out about it in the first place. She was practically immortal, as was he. They could live and grow stronger together, forever.

  Gods. 

  He could almost get drunk off the thought of it, the temptation rocking him down to his very core and he looked at her. Tom wondered if he could find a way to modify it. Maybe since it was placed on her while she was in disarray, no thanks to him, that’s why it was acting defective. It was stuck in a moment of panic and near death. Perhaps if he could move her only slightly forward, she’d be healthy forever.

  She’d be his, and he’d be hers.

  “What’s that look for?” She said weakly. Delilah was laid back down on the pillow and was observing him intently.

  He bit his cheek and debated for a moment before deciding it was best to keep those ambitions to himself for now. Instead he said, “how would you feel if I killed him?”

  Delilah blinked at him, not sure how to process that statement. “Dumbledore? You can’t.” At his narrowed eyes, she rolled hers. “He’s not supposed to die until the nineties.”

  Clenching his jaw he then laid down beside her, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to let his mind wander down the path of immortality. They did need to think of the future, but maybe a closer one. They had Grindelwald to deal with first.

  “We need to find Potter.”

  He turned his head to look at her and found Delilah looking at him already, now turned on her side and almost looking heaven-like with the way her body rested against the sheets. The sight of her always seemed to overwhelm him in one way or another. His breath always caught just slightly as if he was seeing her for the first time. His first glimpse at God and he found himself wanting to kneel at her altar. 

  Tom Riddle wasn’t a man to kneel but for her found he’d fall right to his knees if she asked him to. 

  Reaching out, he traced the side of her face with his fingers lightly and her eyes were so startlingly blue that he began to wonder what drowning was like. How tempting it was to just fall into her and let the tides take him, to pull him under and never let him back up for a gasp of breath or sanity. 

  “Do you think you saved me?” He didn’t know where the question came from but it was out and hanging in the air before he could think better of it. 

  Her brows furrowed as she observed him before eventually shaking her head. “No, no I don’t think I did.”

  “Do you think I’m still destined for ruin, then?” They somehow got closer, their face only inches apart and he could still smell metal on her tongue but it was strangely enticing. Addictive. He wanted to devour every inch of her, if she’d let him. 

  “No,” she whispered. “I think you learned how to save yourself.” 

  His eyes flicked down to her mouth as his stomach melted into a searing pit of desire. Glad that she was safe and lying there next to him. Anticipation of facing Grindelwald with her at his side. Their potential to live forever… it was all overwhelming and he found himself pulling her into him and his mouth crashed against hers almost possessively. The hunger behind it was palpable and he shuddered as her hands raked through his hair. 

  Tom’s mind was just her and his body moved on its own accord, flipping them over so he was on top of her and his mouth latched onto the side of her neck. He shivered almost violently when her nails tore down his back, “ God .”

  Her voice was a seductive lilt, “are you praying to me?”

  His lips grazed down her chest, “something like that.”

Chapter Text

  His fingers tugged on the hem of her shirt and pulled it from out of her skirt, watching in fascination as more skin revealed itself and was greeted by her black satin bra. Tom’s mind went into a frenzy and he did his best to contain himself. 

  “Up,” he muttered, his voice heavy and laced with lust. Delilah did as told and lifted her arms, letting him drag her blouse up and off her body and couldn’t help the grin on her face as he tossed the fabric carelessly off the bed. The pads of his fingers danced over her breast and down her torso, sending a ripple of goosebumps to rise on her skin and the way his lips pulled back was sinful.

  Leading all the way down to her skirt, he played with the hem of it for a moment before he suddenly flipped her around to where she was laying on her stomach, a surprised yelp leaving her lips as he did so. She felt his fingers grab hold of the zipper at the back before dragging it down. Once it was loose he practically ripped it off her but didn’t make a move to turn her back around. 

  She was about to say something as the seconds ticked by before there was a sharp sting to her back side as he spanked her.

  “ Oh ,” she immediately flushed red and she was sure her whole body was now an embarrassing pink as heat bloomed from her arse. “ I –”

  His hands then took hold under her hips and dragged her up to her knees so she was bent over in front of him. A position they hadn’t ever really been in before and she didn’t know why it felt so vulnerable all the sudden. 

  There was another sharp sting to her arse and she let out a strangled noise that was muddled with both a yell and a moan. Seconds later his warm and large hand rubbed smoothing circles into where he had just hit her and she found herself strangely turned on by the action of him spanking her. 

  “You like this don’t you?” His lips pressed against the middle of her spine, his words melting into her and she knew she was probably dripping. She knew he could probably see it clear as day due to the position he had her in. 

  Tom spanked her again and she moaned into the mattress only to gasp as his fingers rubbed over her damp underwear. “No, you love this. You’re fucking soaked, darling.” Before she could even try to protest the obvious truth, he tugged her underwear to the side and collapsed at the feeling of his hot tongue licking her. 

  Apparently deciding he couldn’t do all that he wanted with this angle, he took her by the hips and turned her around again, pressing her back into the mattress and holding her legs up and out. Spreading her wide for him and the look on his face was that of a man who was starved and he gazed upon her as if she was offering to satiate his appetite. 

  He looked dazed, his pupils blown so wide that his eyes truly did look black and his mouth was on her again. His tongue circled her clit and she let out a moan when he dipped two fingers into her. It was nearly embarrassing how easily they went in and she was sure she was dripping out onto the bed.

  “ Fuck ,” he said, his voice humming against her cunt in a way that was intoxicating. “You taste so fucking good, Delilah.” Then he started to curl his fingers upwards as he fucked her with his hand, his mouth latching onto her clit and sucking while circling it with his tongue. 

  She saw stars as she screamed and came, her thighs clamping down and her hands tugged on his hair painfully. He didn’t seem to mind as he moaned against her, not letting up as his mouth was still licking at her as if it was ice cream that was melting. It became too much and she wasn’t sure how an orgasm could possibly last that long but she felt like she was about to explode.

  “Tom, please –” 

  He looked up from between her legs, his mouth and chin glistening with her arousal. His brown hair was a wild mess from where she was tugging at it and his eyes looked like that of a madman who had just gotten a hit of an addictive drug for the first time. 

  “You were so good for me,” he didn’t break eye contact as he kissed the inside of both her thighs and they were visibly trembling. Her heart was pounding violently in her chest and she couldn’t help but recognize how his praise seemed to affect her. 

  Tom continued to kiss up her body, “and I think good girls deserve to be rewarded. Don’t you?” 

  She bit her lip before nodding, both hating and loving how his words made her body react. He took hold of her neck before he leaned down to kiss her. Hot and open mouthed and she could taste herself on his tongue and it was all mind numbingly attractive. He then leaned back and she didn’t have time to complain and he tugged his own shirt up and off his body. Revealing his broad shoulders and frame built with tight muscles.

  Tom Riddle was devastatingly beautiful.

  Her eyes tracked the movement of his hands as he undid his belt and pulled the rest of his clothes off. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his cock. Of course she’s seen it plenty of times before but it still seemed to shock her each time. It was perfect in every way imaginable, and at the moment he was so hard she almost thought she could see his pulse beating violently in the veins that ran along his shaft. The head of it was flushed a deep pink and leaking pre-come with each second. 

  He stood naked at the end of the bed, watching her with an obsessive look to his eye. Delilah didn’t have time to ponder what it all might mean before he lunged. His large hands took hold of her waist and lifted her off the bed. So effortlessly that it made her feel like a princess in all those Disney movies and she felt her heart flutter with absolute longing. 

  Tom pressed her against the wall, holding her up with his hips and his cock was wedged between them, the sudden pressure made him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment as he attempted to regain control. With a shuddering breath he looked at her again and if she were not mistaken it almost looked… loving. But that would be ridiculous , that stubborn voice inside her head spoke. Even though he had said the words to her, Delilah had no idea whether or not to believe him. 

  His hands took hold of her face and his forehead pressed against hers, and a range of emotions she wasn’t even sure he was capable of flicked through his eyes so quickly she nearly felt dizzy. 

   “I want you, Delilah.” There was a desperation in Tom’s voice that she wasn’t sure she was able to fathom.

  She didn’t have to think and she pushed her lips forward and crashed against his, throwing her arms around her neck and somehow pulling him closer. “You have me,” she whispered to him. Between bites and heavy breaths. “You always have and you always will.”

  He leaned back, his cock now slightly pressed to her entrance. He looked serious yet still haughty, practically dripping sex. 

  “Forever?”

  There seemed to be a million other things hiding under that single word. She was sure of it. A million promises he wanted her to make and she didn’t know if she was capable of keeping them. 

  Delilah held his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing along the tops of his cheeks gently. His eyes searched hers and she realized he looked frightened. Frightened of her saying no, of walking away.

  She nodded, “Forever, I am yours.”

_____________________________________________________________

  Delilah wasn’t sure why, they’ve had sex before, but that had just felt different. He felt vulnerable, like he was offering himself up for once instead of it being the other way around. It was like he had cracked and she finally noticed how afraid he was to be alone.

  All that talk about not needing anyone, about not caring if he was the last man left on Earth. She knew he cared about her but… God that look he was giving her. He was frightened of being alone and it was almost like he had just come to the realization himself. 

  After getting cleaned up, they found themselves in the kitchen and she was bombarded with questions as they ate the dinner Cain had prepared. She told them about the body clock and how Dumbledore had placed it on her, but left out the details about her basically being on a mission to save Tom Riddle from eternal damnation. 

  “That’s bloody insane,” Pyrrhus mumbled as he bit into his roast, ignoring the disgusted look Olive was shooting at him. 

  “So this body clock then, are you going to remove it?” Olive asked and Delilah blinked at her. Feeling like the answer was obvious. “Because I don’t think you should, not until this Grindelwald mess is over at least. If it really is keeping you protected plus the… the thing about Elio.” The last part was mentioned quietly and it was like a poltergeist of grief suddenly decided to enter the room. 

  She gnawed at her lip as she thought it over. According to Dumbledore the clock on her body apparently wasn’t necessary anymore due to Elio sacrificing himself for her. The thought of it made her feel nauseous. Being untouchable because he wasn’t. 

  “The magic Elio left on you doesn’t make you invincible, Delilah.” Tom added, wanting to make sure she understood. She knew he was right, there were plenty of times Harry could’ve died even though he had the same magic placed on him from his mother. The only person it didn’t work with specifically was Voldemort but that was for a very complicated reason she still wasn’t sure she was able to believe. 

  Deciding she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, she decided to switch to their Grindelwald plans. “So, getting to Potter.” 

  Abraxas’ nose scrunched as he sipped on his tea, “I can’t believe you want us to go camping.” 

  Delilah rolled her eyes, “it’s the best way to stay low and away from prying eyes. He has people everywhere and would be easily able to track our moves. Not to mention he knows exactly where all of you live, you purebloods practically advertise your manors.” 

  There was a low mutter of agreement for all of them and she sighed. “We’re magic, are you forgetting we can enchant the inside of our tents? You lot make it sound like it’ll be miserable. Think of it as a vacation!” They didn’t seem convinced and she gave, slumping in her seat and annoyed at the amused look Tom was giving her. 

  “We know Grindelwald won’t find the stone,” he flexed his hand as he did so and the obsidian glinted in the low light of the kitchen. “And I’m not quite sure how two Elder wands from different points of time would interact with each other, but that’s still two on our side. We need the cloak, and Potter has it.”

  “Can we not just rob him and run?” Pyrrhus asked and Tom shook his head. 

  “We need to get it back to him, intact.”

  “So we’re just supposed to convince some stranger to willingly let us borrow a family heirloom?” Olive said dryly and rolled her eyes as Tom nodded his head. Always so sure of himself. 

  “We leave tomorrow morning. Bring what you need.”

  Lolita then cleared her throat and she shared a look with Cain. He seemed a bit hesitant at first but righted his posture and looked at them all before looking at Tom. “Lolita and I are staying here.”

  Tom was opening his mouth to argue but Delilah quickly cut him off. “That’s perfectly alright.” She then looked to the rest of them, “the same for the rest of you, I don’t want to drag you all into something that might get you killed.” They all looked at one another, exchanged silent in their eyes. They’ve all known each other a lot longer than Delilah had. Years, actually. Bonds that ran a lot deeper than she was probably aware of.

  Abraxas cleared his throat, “we’re with you. Right up till the end, all of us want to see that bastard dead.”

  Tom grinned, that bloodlust calling to him again at the thought of putting Grindelwald’s head on spike but he shook the image away. 

  “We head out tomorrow, then.”

Chapter Text

The first few weeks of camping went as well as one could except with a group of people who had been raised in wealth, and a boy who had gotten used to the taste of money. Delilah almost found the whole situation to be amusing had their circumstances been different. Perhaps when it was all over she could take them on a proper outdoor excursion, somewhere beautiful with mountains and lakes. 

Pyrrhus huffed as they came to a stop above a cliff, hands on his hips and his head thrown back as he tried to catch his breath. “This sort of work isn’t for me, Del.”

The girl eyed the group, all of them panting save for Tom. She mused over the fact he was most likely winded as well but for the sake of his pride he was refusing to show it. Because breathing was somehow a weakness. 

She sighed and dropped her bag. “The sun is setting so we can stop here for the night, we’ve traveled a decent bit the last three days.”

“Is all this camping really necessary?” Olive called out as she sat herself down on a large rock. “It feels like we haven’t made any progress at all.” 

“Well for one, getting to Potter by foot is going to take time. We can’t risk using too much magic when we travel. Besides, this gives us time to think rather than just rushing into things.” She gave them all a hopeful smile but it didn’t do much to lift their spirits. 

After lighting a fire and getting their tents set up, they grouped around the flames as they ate and discussed what was to come. 

“How exactly would two Elder Wands work? Aren’t there rules against that sort of thing?” Abraxas asked.

“What rules?” Pyrrhus replied as he scarfed down some stew, which earned him a look of disgust from Olive. 

Delilah fought back a smile as she watched the raven haired boy grin at Olive in response and she rolled her eyes. Perhaps it was the poor lighting but for a moment it looked as if Olive had blushed. 

“I don’t know, time rules. Rules of existence. The same object from different points in time doesn’t seem like something that would have no consequences.” Abraxas finished. 

“Perhaps,” Tom chided. “There’s no way to know, though. Given this has never happened before. And if there are consequences, maybe they could work in our favor.” 

“Bold of you to assume something would work in our favor.” Abraxas chided, surely thinking of all that they had lost which led to this moment. 

“Moving on to what we do know,” Delilah interrupted. “Grindelwald has no way of getting the Resurrection Stone.”

“Not unless he plucks it from Tom’s cold dead hands.” Olive chimed with an innocent smile as she took a bite of her food. At Tom’s raised eyebrows she shrugged. “All jokes of course. Who would ever want to kill you?”

Tom laughed dryly. “I’m sure you could give me a list.” 

“We all could,” Abraxas muttered. 

Delilah ignored their bickering, though she was happy to be back with everyone again. “We just need to hope Grindelwald doesn’t know about Potter. We have to get to the cloak before he does.” 

“How exactly do you plan on convincing him to give you a family heirloom? Since robbing him is off the table, which I still think is stupid.” Pyrrhus sighed as he sprawled out on his blanket and rested his head in Olive’s lap. The brunette huffed, as if it was the world's biggest inconvenience but her fingers started playing with his hair a few moments later.

Delilah bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t exactly approach Potter as if he were Harry. They were completely different people. Telling the man they needed to fight a war lord didn’t seem feasible. A thought popped into her head, it was awful but she couldn’t think of anything else that may work. 

“We could curse him?”

Tom’s dark brown eyes slanted towards her and his lips curved up at one side, the fire making the sight of him both sinister and holy. If such a combination could exist, he was the walking definition. A man of ruin wrapped up in a beautiful exterior that could promise her the world but the price was that the earth would turn to ash at their feet. She hated how she didn’t hate the idea but shook her head, that was dangerous and foolish thinking. 

“I like the way you think,” he drawled.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s because it’s the way you think. But I don’t know, nothing harmful, just maybe put him to sleep or something?” 

“That’s boring.” Tom mused and she watched as he dug into the pocket of his jacket and silver glimmered at her. Her stomach knotted uncomfortably at the sight of it and she tried to push the memory of Dumbledore away. Which wasn’t too difficult as she watched Tom place the cigarette between his lips and light it. 

The sight of him smoking was always worth adoration. It was sinful and alluring and perfectly him in all the ways it shouldn’t have been. 

“The Imperius Curse would be easier. Make him pliable and he won’t even care that we took and and when we bring it back to him, we lift the curse and wipe his memory.” Tom finished and she scowled. 

“My way is less cruel and less illegal.”

“Your way?” He laughed. “Darling, we don’t know how long we’ll be gone and you want to put him to sleep? The man would starve to death and wouldn’t even know it. As for legality, I hardly think there’s room for debate on that anywhere in our plan to fight Grindelwald.”

She crossed her arms, hating that he was right and hating the stupid smirk playing out across his face as he looked at her. He was too handsome for his own good and despite everything it still irked her. 

“Does me being right really annoy you that much?” He looked on the verge of laughing and she wished to slap him if it meant he’d stop looking at her like that. 

“You being right will always annoy me.” 

There were gagging noises across from them on the other side of the fire and Pyrrhus and Olive both mimicked throwing up. 

“The two of you are sickening.” Pyrrhus said and Olive hummed in agreement. 

Delilah blushed but ignored them. Clearly they had their own.. whatever , to figure out. “Well whatever we plan to do, it has to work. We should be at the Potter’s by nightfall tomorrow.” 

That night Delilah couldn’t sleep and she was sure Tom wasn’t either. Her head rested against him and she listened to the calming beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Her mind was racing as it went through all the different ways tomorrow could go. They really needed this to work but as she thought about it, she wasn’t sure what being the Master of Death even meant. Would it just make someone immortal? Could they control who dies and when? The thought made her feel dizzy and she wondered what Tom would think about it. Though she was admittedly afraid to ask. She felt as if getting to where he was now was pure luck and such a long road, and if she asked it would all end. 

Was he still obsessed with death and living? Did he still wish to be immortal? Did he still want her to join him? As much as she loved him, she couldn’t fathom the idea of living forever. Being with him for eternity did seem fanciful and like a dream she couldn’t have, but she knew there had to be real consequences to never dying. It seemed like a lonely existence, even if she had Tom. Everyone else they cared about and grew to love would die and it would be a never ending process. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to handle the heartbreak. She imagined losing more people like Elio and her throat closed up at the thought.

“You’re thinking too much.” Tom muttered quietly, his voice low and drifting around the cold air of the tent.

Delilah felt his fingers drift up to her hair and he started to twirl a few strands of it around his fingers. She sighed, his touch was comforting and quelled her thoughts slightly but they still simmered on the backburner. 

The next day around sunset they arrived in a small village lined with cottages that were covered in overgrowth but they still looked homely. She gnawed at her lip as she spotted the Potter’s home and wrung her hands till they hurt. The rest of the group was staying at an Inn more towards the center of the village and she wished she were there right now rather than walking up to the front door of one of Harry’s ancestors. 

Tom eyed her with a brow raised. “Why are you so nervous?”

“How are you not nervous?”

“Delilah, we’ve done much worse than asking to borrow a magical cloak and I’ve seen you fret less. We’ve broken into government buildings and private property. This is the first time we’re asking politely. We’ll be fine.” His arm slid over her shoulder as they neared and the weight of it was reassuring. What he said was true but she couldn’t shake the nerves she felt.  

They came to a stop and she watched in anticipation as Tom raised his hand and he knocked sharply on the door twice. A few seconds passed of nothing and she worried they wouldn’t answer the door. 

“Are you sure they’re home?” She whispered.

Tom leaned his head down, “all their lights are on.”

“I leave the light on all the time.”

“That’s because you forget every time I tell you to shut them off before we leave.”

“I don’t forget, I just-”

The door swung open and it was nearly unsettling how quickly she saw Tom’s facial expression change. It was like watching something magical happen right before your eyes, only it was all skin and human and she watched as his muscles warped and his expression lightened into something warm and welcoming. He looked friendly and it was creepy. 

“Hello there!” Tom said cheerfully and he nudged Delilah with his elbow, urging her to snap out of her shock.

She blinked and plastered on a painfully happy smile and her voice sounded strange even to her own ears. “Hi!”

An older man in his thirties looked at them with a brow raised and a small, cautionary smile on his face. “Hello?”

Tom cleared his throat and placed a hand to his chest, looking awfully humble and Delilah resisted the urge to laugh as she kept smiling. She wished she would’ve asked him what his plan was because she felt ridiculous. 

“We’re terribly sorry to intrude upon you, especially at this hour. I’m sure you’re about to have supper with your family.” Tom said, his voice all silk and charm with a hint of boyishness in his polite tone. 

The man, who she could only assume was Mr. Potter, relaxed a bit. The more that she looked at him, she saw hints of Harry. Most notably the wild dark hair. 

“Oh it’s alright, are you two new? I don’t think we’ve met before.”

Tom nodded his head. “Yes, we just moved in, in that blue cottage that’s across town? And thought we ought to introduce ourselves.”

She recalled earlier when they first got to the village that there were a few houses for sale. Tom’s eyes had lingered but she hadn’t thought much of it then.

“You two just moved in? You look quite young.”

Tom shrugged, a boyish smile on his features and she felt him slip something cold onto her finger before he raised her hand. “What can I say, I only just proposed but we got excited and wanted to move things along.”

Delilah blinked down at the ring on her finger. His ring. She knew they were only lying to the man but it was odd to both see and hear it come out of Tom’s mouth. She pushed through her bewilderment and clutched at Tom’s arm as if she was his love struck fiancee. 

“Can you blame me for wanting to rush? I mean, look at him.” She said breathlessly and gazed up at him in adoration. She pressed her lips together in a tight smile as she met Tom’s eyes and she noticed he too, was trying so very hard not to laugh. 

Potter clapped his hands and his smile was wide, believing in their act. “Well, this calls for some celebration. Both for you and being our new neighbors.” He stepped aside and waved an arm. “Please, come in.” 

When he turned his back, Tom and Delilah looked at each other. She couldn’t believe that worked, the next step was just winning him over enough that he let them borrow the cloak.

Chapter Text

The cottage was well lived in but clearly taken care of and Delilah immediately fell in love with it. The floors were dark wood with scratches here and there and mix matched carpets ran throughout the home. The lighting was warm and bathed all the paintings in a comforting glow. The eyes on the canvases didn’t seem haunting like those at Hogwarts, but welcoming. Curious who these visitors were. 

A savory scent filled the air, most likely coming from the kitchen. Mr. Potter gestured for them to sit and she spotted a worn and plush looking leather couch. But as they sat down, panicked gripped her heart. How in the hell were they going to convince this man to give them the cloak? 

“Would you care for a drink?”

Tom hardly skipped a beat and smiled pleasantly. “Do you have wine?”

Potter nodded, “well this is a cause for celebration, isn't it? I’ll be right back.”

When he was out of earshot, Delilah turned to him with a brow raised. “Wine?”

“Don’t you think this will all be easier if he’s drunk?”

“I mean yes but,” she bit her lip and fought back a blush of embarrassment. “Me being drunk definitely won’t be helpful.”

He shrugged. “You’ll be fine. Worst case scenario you end up dancing on the table.”

Delilah punched his arm but couldn’t be too mad, especially with the way he was smiling at her. Though her expression fell into something more precautionary when he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a phial of clear liquid.

“What’s that?”

“Calm down, I’m not poisoning the man.” At her look of disbelief he rolled his eyes. “Veritaserum.”

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“I always have something handy.”

Before she could argue or even ask what else he had, Mr. Potter walked back into the room with three wine glasses and a bottle. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No problem at all,” Tom leaned back in his seat, encompassing it as if it was a throne and captivating Mr. Potter It was eerie how well he was able to command any space he was in, even a little homey cottage they’d only been in for a few minutes. 

“ I should’ve introduced myself properly, I’m Fleamont Potter.”

“I’m Jacks and this is Charlotte,” The lies slipped easily from Tom’s mouth and her mind spun at the fake names, not realizing that was a part of the plan. That being said they didn’t really have a plan so she decided to let Tom do all the talking.

Fleamont poured the wine and they fell into mundane small talk. She tuned out most of it until she felt Fleamont’s eyes on her and he asked about wedding plans. 

“Oh,” she laughed nervously. “Well, not anything huge. Maybe a wedding in Italy but I’m not sure.”

Tom raised a brow at her, looking weirdly interested. “Italy?”

She nodded giddily, playing the part of a love struck soon to be wife. “Along the Amalfi Coast. Oh, it’d be beautiful.”

“The Amalfi Coast is gorgeous,” Fleamont chimed. “I think a wedding there would be a dream come true.”

Delilah took a drink of her wine and mulled spices coated her tongue. She felt warm and cozy almost instantly and she thought an actual wedding there wouldn’t be such a bad idea. But the thought of marrying Tom seemed outlandish. Not that she didn’t ever want to get married, but she couldn’t imagine it was something he’d ever want. Marriage seemed too small a gesture for a man like him. Too human and heartfelt. His version of forever was to be gods amongst men; not her husband.

She tried to ignore the sudden pang of sadness in her chest and took another drink. Delilah had to be rational when it came to loving him, getting her hopes up in a fantasy would only hurt.

Tom reached for his wine and accidentally knocked it over, spilling the red liquid everywhere. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. It’s hitting me harder than I imagined. I haven’t had the chance to eat today.”

Fleamont waved him off. “It’s no problem. The wine is quite strong I admit.” He waved away the stain with his wand and stood. “I have some stew cooking, let me go see if it's almost ready.”

He stood and thankfully left his glass. The second he disappeared around the corner Tom brought back out the phial.

Uncorking the top, he began to pour the clear potion into Fleamont’s glass. “Italy?” He asked again, acting as if they weren’t currently poisoning the man. Well, perhaps not poison but she wasn’t sure how else to put it. Tom’s nonchalance about the whole thing was humorous. 

Her brows furrowed. “Why are you so caught up on Italy?”

“Would you actually want to go?”

Her heart sank. “Why are you asking?”

Tom slipped the phial back into his pocket just as Fleamont walked back into the room, holding a tray with two bowls on it but Delilah suddenly lost her appetite. 

Not wanting to be rude, she took a bowl and muttered a thank you. She felt Tom look at her a few times but she couldn’t find the courage to return the favor. She could hardly taste the stew as she swallowed, the meat and vegetables turning into sludge as she ate. 

Her eyes flicked up and she watched Fleamont finish his glass of wine.

Tom didn’t hesitate.

“I hear you have an invisibility cloak.”

Fleamont half laughed half choked as he set down his wine glass. “I beg your pardon?”

Tom’s eyes were dark and unblinking as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and he clasped his hands in front of him. “You have an invisibility cloak, yes?”

“Yes.” Fleamont’s face turned red when the word slipped out without a thought to it. He quickly scrambled to explain. “But a lot of people do, they’re easy to come by.”

“But you have a special one, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” Fleamont scrambled back, knocking over his chair in the process and he looked frightened. 

The grin that stretched Tom’s face was akin to a demon who’d just tricked some poor soul into letting him out of Hell. 

“What have you done to me?”

Tom tsk-d, looking affronted. “I think you’re just drunk, mate.” He then stood, towering over the room and Delilah couldn’t help but just stare at him. The situation made her feel slightly uncomfortable but she knew they had to get the cloak somehow. Not to mention she had brought up cursing him before. 

“Where is it?”

Fleamont made a move to run, but without even a muscle moving Tom had locked every door and window, and shortly after Fleamont’s wand flew into Tom’s hand. 

“You don’t need to make this difficult, where is it? We’ll give it back to you as soon as we’re done.”

“Done with what?” Fleamont had shrunken himself into the furthest corner of the room. 

Tom sighed, debating with himself but he figured worst case scenario he’d just wipe the man’s memory of this whole ordeal. If it were up to him, he’d just kill the man and be done with all this. But he wasn’t in the mood to have Delilah yell at him.

“We need it to fight Grindelwald.”

Fleamont laughed, looking deranged. “You’re lying. What good is an invisibility cloak against a war lord?”

“If it’s just some cloak, why do you care so much about us borrowing it?”

Fleamont clenched his jaw. “You can’t have it.”

Delilah stood up, putting her own moral scruples aside. This was important whether Fleamont understood it or not. “I’m going to level with you, Mr. Potter. You can either give it to us, or Jacks here is going to force it out of you and then knock you out cold. And I’m sure he’d rather you not wake up at all. Now,” she took a breath and hoped he’d be sensible. “Where is it?”

Fleamont’s eyes flicked to Tom, who did in fact look like a hellhound itching for a taste of blood. 

“Bottom drawer of the dresser in my room.” The words came out strangled and not a moment later there was a flash of white-green light blinded the room as Tom cast obliviate and Fleamont fell to the ground unconscious. 

“Why do they always make it so difficult for themselves?”

She rolled her eyes and made her way to where she assumed his room was. “You could try being less frightening.” 

“And here I was thinking that’s what you loved about me.”

“Ha ha,” she laughed dryly and opened the door to Fleamont’s room. It was neat and didn’t have much. A bed was pushed into the corner and he had a large bookshelf on one side of the room and a dresser on the other side.

She beelined for the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He had it hidden under some sweaters and she smiled at the familiar cloak. She’d only seen it a handful of times when Harry, Hermione and Ron would use it but it was unmistakable. 

When she turned, she jumped at the sight of Tom leaning in the doorway. 

“We could go, you know.”

“Go where?”

“To Italy, next summer perhaps.”

Her stomach rolled uneasily. “Why?”

His eyes flashed and she felt like melting through the floor. 

“I think you know why.”

“Don’t be mean.” She shook her and walked past him. She needed to get out of too warm house. Delilah barely paid any mind to Fleamont who was still unconscious on the floor as she left out the door, which Tom had thankfully unlocked. 

She heard his steps following after her.

“How am I being mean?”

Delilah stopped and closed her eyes, clutching the cloak to her chest and she wished to disappear underneath it. Forcing herself to turn around, she wasn’t prepared for the way he was looking at her.

She had to be reading into things, she had to. There was no way he was actually suggesting getting married. At the thought, she became bitterly aware of his ring still being on her finger.

Delilah took it off and held it out to him but he shook his head. “Keep it.” 

“Please take it.”

“Lilah, keep the fucking ring.”

“But–”

He stepped forward before she could even think and his hands were holding her face, his skin warm and rough. His eyes were dark and that lovely color of coffee that she always drank up and she felt like she could feel the world spinning. 

“I’m not being mean, I’m being honest. Keep the ring.”

“But,” her mind scrambled and her heart felt like it was rotting. She couldn’t fathom him being in love enough to ask her such a thing. “You can’t mean that.”

His brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because you’re you!” She laughed, feeling hysterical. “You don’t… you can’t.”

“I do.”

“ Why? ” She cried. This felt like it was coming out of nowhere. Like he was playing some cruel trick.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you think, Delilah?” At her starstruck, shocked expression Tom sighed and kissed her forehead. “Just keep the damn ring.”

With that he walked away, leaving Delilah frozen in place as she stared at the now empty space in front of her. 

Perhaps she was being cruel or heartless for not believing him, but how could she? One doesn’t expect a sunset to admire you back. 

Tom didn’t go around falling in love. 

Chapter Text

Despite what his mind was telling him to do, he all but ignored Delilah as they walked back to the inn to meet with the others. Not that she seemed to care about this fact, appearing even more determined to ignore his existence. As they reached the door, she held out her hand and grabbed his wrist, dropping his ring back into his hand and giving him the cloak. His mouth barely opened before she walked off, not sparing him a glance as she moved through the main floor and up the stairs. 

He clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening over his ring so hard the stone on it began to cut into his skin. Why did utter nonsense leave his mouth when he was around her? Stupid, ridiculous nonsense that had no business seeping out as if he had to throw up poison he had swallowed. He had to get her out of his system even though the words came up easily like warm honey, only to have disastrous consequences when it attracted venomous spiders. 

Tom shook his head and made his way up the stairs. What did she want from him? On one hand she wanted him to be sweet and the other she apparently found comfort in him being an arse. It felt like anytime he actually fell comfortable around her it blew up in his face, making her shut off. When he said those three ambitious words to her before apparating she avoided him like the plague. 

Opening their door the room was empty, he assumed she went and joined Olive and Pyrrhus perhaps. Dead set on not talking about earlier. He rolled his jaw and went over to the desk, sprawling out the invisibility cloak as he sat down heavily in the creaking wooden chair. His ring glinted at him as he lit a candle and he observed them both. Two out of three. The magic was nearly iridescent in its gentle glow, illuminating the Deathly Hallows softly. The cloak held more of a warm color within its threads, lulling him to reach out and trace the intricate pattern woven into it. The ring had a cool, blue light around it. Most people didn’t even notice he wore a ring, as if there was a disillusionment enchantment on it. He hadn’t placed it and he didn’t detect any tampering either besides the horcrux. Tom still wasn’t sure what the true effect of the horcrux was or if it even did anything besides ward people off from looking at it because it made them uncomfortable. Not that they even noticed what was happening, it was like a gentle nudge from their subconscious to ignore it and move on. Much like Muggle-repelling charms. 

Still, putting a part of his shredded up soul into something ancient didn’t seem like it wouldn’t have any repercussions. He bit his cheek as he studied them and summoned his bag into his hand. It held an array of books and his journals that he didn’t want to part with in the hopes they’d become fruitful. Tom dug through it, trying to find something of significance. The research done on the Hallows was slim, if any. Most of the history surrounding the objects didn’t equate them to being anything other than a fairytale. He was sure part of it had been, not quite believing there was a physical embodiment of Death that offered up these objects as gifts. Regardless if they were tricks, he couldn't fathom it. 

He had a theory, given the Peverell’s had a long history of boastful gaudiness and overt displays of experimental magic they eventually ended up in alchemy. He wondered if they themselves took on the impossible task of confronting death and created these objects themselves. The feat was too wonderous for Mankind to handle so people turned it into something that could be understood. Something not so scary. Something like a children’s bedtime story. 

What Tom needed to figure out was how?

Once he was able to fully understand their construction he knew he could harness their capabilities. But he needed to do it correctly to garner their full potential. Blood magic was at the top of his list. It was strong and always full proof, guaranteed to bind an object to the caster. That sort of magic came from life itself. He considered whether or not the Three Brother’s used blood magic or some other sort of ancient magic he wasn’t to make out. He ran diagnostics on both objects but it didn’t give him much. 

He turned his ring over in his hand but froze, not sure if Elio would pop up again. Sliding the ring back on his finger he sat back in his chair and tugged at the roots of his hair with one hand. Thinking. Always thinking. The Deathly Hallows had never been all together before, especially not wielded by a single individual. Tom wasn’t convinced they’d have the ability to make the bearer incapable of dying. Paranoid there was a culpability somewhere and not wanting to put his full trust into something that could end up getting him killed if he let his guard down. If they had been able to be tainted with dark magic he had issues believing they were untouchable. 

Not that that process had even been easy. When he killed his grandparents and father to make his second horcrux he had balanced precariously on the edge of no return. 

Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton 1943

The pain had been unbearable. His soul was ripping apart inside of him, his body not being able to keep up. As if every nerve in his body had been stripped away from him, tangled up, and then roughly shoved back underneath his skin and pricking at his muscles, trying to get down to the bone and shatter his skeleton. It had felt as if his brain would start seeping out from his ears and his eyes were being ripped out of their sockets by greedy, claw bearing hands. Tom had blacked out for nearly a day, his heart beating weakly and just barely keeping him alive while his ring all but screamed out in agony on the ground next to him. 

Tom had dragged himself up, covered in dried and caked blood. Ignoring how the crimson was spattered over the walls. He had gotten carried away, a blood lust had gripped him. Tearing his family apart like they were nothing because that’s exactly what they were. Nothing. They didn’t want him and he returned the sentiment. Some of the blood was his, he had been able to taste the copper coating his tongue. He’d apparently bit through it to get through the torment. He tried to cast diagnostic charm on himself but his hands had been shaking so much it took a few tries. Once successful, the glowing light illuminated the dead bodies around him as he read.

Much to his horror he apparently had been on the cusp of having a seizure. His mind had been on the verge of crumbling apart, not being able to handle it. The torture he had put himself through had been nearly too much for his subconscious to handle. 

Tom shook his head and flexed his hands, looking down at his fingers and making sure he was able to keep them still. The first half of sixth year they wouldn’t stop trembling and he had to take a dangerously large quantity of calming draughts to save face while studying nerve damage. They still twitched now and again, an annoying reminder that he hadn’t perfected the ritual. Tom had equated the side effects to being the consequence of an incessant and heavy use of dark magic in a short span of time. 

However, now as he thought about it, he wondered if part of the torment had been the ring trying to fight back. His mind trailed, trying to shake the fright of near death off but it clung to him like a suit perfectly tailored to him. 

Would it be possible to reinforce the Deathly Hallows?

His gaze flicked over his desk and he froze, eyes narrowing slightly. More so a twitch as he considered the potentially outlandish idea that just came to him. If he could break down the alchemy of the Philosopher's Stone into a different metal he could try to plate the ring and wand, to weave it into thread to reinforce the cloak. Could that work? His mind spun. If he could break down the complexities of the stone he wondered if he could even solve the problem of aging that the stone didn’t remedy. It might prolong life, but it didn’t necessarily sustain it. A thousand years from now he would just be a withering body with a stubborn and tired heart. What if he could fix it? If he did and he paired it with the Deathly Hallows… 

“Fuck.” He laughed quietly and ran a hand over his mouth as he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He’d truly be a God amongst men. 

Tom thought of Delilah and debated. He’d tell her at some point. He’d have to. Not to mention she could prove herself useful once again, she had a slightly larger grasp on runic magic than he did. Of course Tom knew she wouldn’t immediately agree but he was confident he could find ways to persuade her. If he focused his priority on using the reinforced Hallow’s as a way to defeat Grindelwald that could potentially get her on board. 

If he could make them immune to the disease that was death, he didn’t see why she would continue to be opposed. She claimed loneliness would get the better of any immortal, but if he had her by his side that would be all he could ever ask for. It was some sort of dreadful devotion buried in his heart that made him possessed by the idea. To try and do something. Not seeing how people were able to just sit there and pray, hoping for the best but never getting it. They were all a part of the grand ballet, the end slowly approaching. There was a sense of it in the air, the heavy curtains would always fall but there would be no encore. People could pray their sins away as much as they liked, they would all still die anyway. 

The thought of Delilah or himself not being alive and breathing, imagining a world without either of them in it– his breath caught in his throat and it felt as if his heart began to rot. Turning to mush and leaking its sweet and sickly poison into the rest of his body as panic gripped him. Tom’s eyes hurt and black spots swam in his vision. He blinked rapidly and tried to breathe, leaning forward and resting his head on the desk and the soft fabric of the cloak greeted him. “Calm down,” he muttered to himself. He couldn’t panic. He couldn’t freeze up. He couldn’t sit there and let time pass. He had to do something to stop it. 

Taking a shuddering breath he lifted his head and rubbed at his eyes. She was placed into his life for a reason. A constellation telling him something, presenting him with an array of labyrinths, he just had to be clever enough to get to the center. A glittering array of stars in her eyes, a mark of remarkable feat gifted by Dionysus himself. 

Tom lit a cigarette, making a list in his head of what he needed to do. He had a gut feeling that there was something about the stone that he needed to know.

Chapter Text

Later that night Delilah was sat on the bed examining the cloak. She’d seen Harry with it of course but she’d never actually held it or been this close to it before. It was odd. The fabric was thick and sturdy, one would make the assumption it would then also be heavy but it was remarkably light for the sheer size of it. She could feel the magic though, it was palpable. If she closed her eyes and focused she could almost feel each thread humming with its ancient magic. 

She was beyond curious what it was made of. If one were to take the Tale of the Three Brother’s literally, then it wouldn’t be of this world. It came from beyond, something humans wouldn’t have a grasp at understanding. Yet as she looked at it, it genuinely just did appear to be thread. Obviously it was enchanted with the ability to make the user invisible and its effects never wore out with age unlike others on the market. Delilah traced a nail over the pattern, curiouser and curiouser. 

There was a knock on the door and she looked up. Tom was leaning in the doorway, wearing a pair of fresh clothes and his hair was damp from his shower. “Anything?”

She shrugged and splayed the cloak out. “I could try to run a more complex diagnostic on it but I don’t think it will tell us much. Whatever they did to reinforce it isn’t something I’m familiar with.” 

“Would you be able to look into traces of certain rituals?”

She raised a brow at him. “What did you have in mind?”

Tom walked further into the room, running his hand through his hair to push back the wet curls that were beginning to hang in his eyes. “Blood magic, possibly. Darker magic is usually easier to pick up but considering how old it is the chances may be slim.”

Biting her cheek, she looked back down at the cloak and grabbed her wand. Her mind trailed through all the diagnostic spells she knew. Most of them were of medicinal purposes, which at the moment were useless. Simple spell detection charms wouldn’t work either, given they’d been tried and tested. All they would tell her was that yes, the cloak was magical. Her mind raced, thinking back on everything she knew about incantations and trying to pick it apart until she found something.

“ Invenire Incantatem Sanguis .” 

Her voice was a whisper as her wand hovered over the cloak. For a moment nothing happened and her shoulders began to deflate. Then suddenly there was a blinding burst of red light. It completely encompassed the cloak and for a moment of horror Delilah thought she had set it ablaze. 

Tom’s eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between Delilah and the glowing cloak of invisibility.

It was covered in bright, scarlet runes. 

“Oh my God,” she whispered. Not quite believing what she was looking at. It was littered in runes so ancient some were completely unrecognizable to her. They seemed to cover every inch of the fabric, the intricate detail of the thread appearing non-existent under the magical markings. She tried to make out a few, but the longer she looked at it the more it began to hurt her eyes.

They started to burn and she blinked rapidly as they began to water, she made out the markings of Protection and Longevity but her head began to hurt as if a migraine was taking root. She looked away, pressing her palms tightly into her eyes.

Tom’s eyes began to sting as well, so much so that he could barely keep them open. He waved his hand, wandlessly casting Finite Incantatum and the glowing ceased. The room appeared dark for a few moments, as if he had just come inside from looking directly at the sun. Eventually it cleared, everything bleeding back into technicolor and he let out a stunned breath.

He had been right.

Delilah stared at the cloak, tears still in her eyes from the pain. The Peverell’s had used blood magic to create the Deathly Hallows, at least the cloak as far as they knew. “Should we try the ring?”

Tom shook his head and ran a hand over his mouth. “We should wait. That was… I don’t know if that will have lasting damage on vision or not.” Everytime he blinked he felt like he could still see the runes, shining white as they floated around the room before fading. 

“Did you recognize any of them?”

“Only a few. Besides being flashbanged, I don’t recognize a lot of them so it was hard to make out. They’re very old.” She rubbed at her eyes again before folding up the cloak, looking at it now with a certain weariness. Blood magic was dark, nasty business. Nothing good usually came of it. Not to mention it was practically impossible to undo, especially if the original caster wasn’t there to see the process through. 

Setting down the cloak on the desk next to all his notes, she spotted The Tales of Beedle the Bard . “Why much up such a story? What was the point?”

He came to stand beside her and rested his hands on the back of the chair, eyeing the cloak in a newfound curiosity. “To give people something to believe in, I suppose. History loves to make a lesson out of things.”

Delilah hummed. “Or maybe give them nothing to believe in at all. Most people think it’s a fairytale. If people knew it was blood magic I doubt they’d all be under lock and key. I suppose this book kept them well hidden.” She tapped the cover with a nail but her brows furrowed. “Why even create them if it wasn’t to– oh . People love a turn of phrase.” 

“Of course they do. Like any mere mortal, they wanted to cheat death. Parading around dark magic wouldn’t have gotten them very far. Though I suppose it didn’t, at least for two of them. Ignotus had been the clever one.” He sighed as spun his ring around his finger. His exhaustion started to creep up on him, but with the newfound knowledge of the origins of the Hallows who saw sleep alluding him for perhaps another day.

She eyed him for a moment, her brows furrowed as she took him in. He looked a bit gaunt, all puns aside. She knew he didn’t sleep much to begin with but lately it was becoming worrisome. Circles bloomed out from beneath his eyes and his cheekbones stood out even more prominently. Sure, he seemed to fall asleep a bit easier around her but he woke up often. 

“Is there any chance in you resting?” 

Tom slanted his gaze down to hers and that was all the answer she needed. Blowing a strand piece of hair out of her face she turned back to his desk and picked up one of his journals that had his notes on the Hallows in it. “Me neither, what are you wanting to work on?”

He considered her for a moment, thinking back to his mental checklist he had made. “What can you tell me about runic magic? Anything that you can remember.”

She couldn’t help the smug gleam in her eye at the fact she knew more about something than he did but she decided she wasn’t in the mood to gloat. “Of what I know about written runic magic, I know it’s extremely tedious. I’ve never exactly dabbled. What I used on you wasn’t necessarily organic. Hermione taught me a modification. It’s still powerful, but nowhere near as permanent or effective.” She drew the symbol for protection into the wood of the table with her finger. “Runes take, though. That’s where their power comes from. You. Be wary of what’s given away because they’ll take twice as much, if not more depending on what you’re trying to do.” 

Delilah then drew longevity with her finger. “It can be hard to put a cap on how much magic you’re channeling into the symbols. If you’re high on adrenaline, paying attention and knowing your limit is vital.” She gave him a pointed look. “Which I know for you will be difficult.”

His eye twitched as they narrowed. “I have remarkable impulse control.”

She scoffed. “Sure. I’ve seen you around certain magic, runes are going to be a great temptation once they’re cast. As for blood magic and runes…” she shivered, not even being able to fathom what it took. The stronger the rune needed to be, the more blood. Delilah looked at the cloak and felt an uncomfortable churn in her stomach. 

Tom nodded after a moment and sat down at the desk, moving some papers around as he considered how blood could influence the potency of runes. His eyes caught on what he was looking for and then handed it to Delilah.

Taking it from his grasp, she frowned.

“The Philosopher’s Stone?”

He nodded and lit a cigarette. “What do you know about it?”

Delilah shrugged and eyed what notes he had. “Same as you. Not much research on it.” She then looked at him in suspicion. “You’re not planning on kidnapping Flamel are you?”

He smiled at her though it lacked warmth. “If the opportunity arises.” 

Rolling her eyes she set the paper back down and walked over to the bed, plopping herself onto the old wool covers. “We could try and talk to him, though that would raise obvious concerns.” She gnawed at her lips as she thought what other avenues were available to them. “How expansive are the libraries at any of the guys’ houses?”

Tom paused. Lestrange or Malfoy would be their best bet to find anything of use. Although the Lestrange family would prove themselves to be on the trickier side of things in regard to Grindelwald. There had been no outright claim of their support to the dark wizard but Pyrrhus had been hearing whispers. The Malfoy’s, for the most part, stayed polarized. Grindelwald was being too noisy for them to truly adorn the title of an acolyte. “We could attempt Malfoy’s.”

Delilah nodded but stared down at her feet, trying to ignore the sudden itch of the scars on her back. She could handle being in the Manor again, she knew she could. The horror’s she had experienced were yet to come, though she was sure the house probably had a long history of atrocities that the world needn’t know about. Besides, there were bigger things at stake that outweighed her need to avert a traumatic episode.

Polished leather shoes suddenly came into her line of sight and she looked up at Tom, who had come to stand in front of her. His eyes were half lidded as he looked down at her, a slight crease between his brows. “Will you be alright?”

As she looked over his face she took in the contours of it with such admiration one could consider her a deranged artist obsessed with perfection. Gazing at every line made by his natural beauty as if she were Basil Hallward worshiping the creation that was Dorian Gray. She treasured these parts of him. The ones he kept secret and held close to his chest. A deck of mysteries not often shown to the light of day but if he decided to play a hand, it was a marvel. She still didn’t understand him, even after all this time. The question of why he wanted her eluded Delilah. Truly, why her? 

“I’ll be fine.” She finally managed, feeling light headed. He didn’t look like he believed her but it didn’t matter. “Let’s go find Abraxas.”

He blinked at them. “What?” 

Tom rolled his jaw in impatience. “Malfoy Manor. Would it be feasible to relocate there or will your parents kick up a fuss?”

The blond fell silent as he looked between the couple, fully convinced they’d lost their minds. “I mean, technically but—“

“But?”

Abraxas sighed and leaned back in his chair. He knew he was being selfish for not wanting to go back home even if it was a stepping stone towards progress. He simply hated being there. The house was too big, too cold, and too empty. He wouldn’t mind seeing his Mum but he had been doing his absolute best to avoid seeing his father. Abraxas knew the minute he walked through the front doors he’d be bombarded with lectures of the family legacy, up keeping tradition, looking into working for the Ministry, et cetera et cetera. He had a headache just thinking about it. 

Domestic scruples aside, he knew this was important. 

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he caved. “Fine. Alright. I’ll send an owl and we can disapparate to Wiltshire.”

The world spun and stretched before slamming back into focus as they landed in the small hollow that was down the acreage from Malfoy Manor. 

Delilah looked around at the quaint village. It was rather cute, if she were honest. Not at all a reflection of the shadow that lurked beyond the hills. There was a book shop, a cafe, some restaurants, a tailor and more little shops one could find for all their needs. It was a painfully normal and average wizarding town and she shouldn’t help but wonder how the Malfoy’s played into all this. They were the family of Wiltshire, she had almost been convinced there would be shrines everywhere. 

Her eyes found Abraxas. The man looked rather resigned as he gazed around the place he grew up, fondness not being found in his features and it looked like he couldn’t have cared less about the village. She knew how Draco had been raised, she could only assume it was generational and it hurt to know where Lucius might’ve gotten his parenting skills from. 

Abraxas sighed and started to walk up a trail that was lined in old cobblestones. “Boldness, be my friend.” He muttered Cymbeline under his breath as they began the trek up to the manor. The wards on the massive house were ancient, thus no one could disapparate inside. She wondered why Abraxas wouldn't be able to, at the very least, since he was the heir. 

“The security measures are a bit dramatic but necessary all the same, I suppose.” Abraxas had said as everyone got together their belongings at the Inn. “The wards at the edge of the property won’t let anyone in unless it detects Malfoy blood. Then once it knows I’ve invited you in, you’ll be able to pass onto the grounds.”

Delilah bit at the inside of her cheek as she turned the words over. The wards on the manor must’ve been thousands of years old. The fact that they held that long made her wonder about their creation. Had runes or blood magic been involved? It wouldn't have been the most outlandish idea. 

After about twenty minutes they passed over another rolling hill before the manor reared its dark, impendingly eerie head. Her jaw clenched as she kept waking, taking in the sight of the massive structure. To be fair, the architecture was beautiful. Perhaps she could appreciate it for what it was worth in the sunlight of summer. 

It was three stories tall, a fourth was added at each corner that had a towering structure with pointed roofs. The stone was old but well kept and the thousands of window panes glittered in the sunlight. Hedges lined the walkway behind the large gates, trimmed to obsessive perfection and white roses adorned each side of the front door. 

Abraxas walked up to the gates and paused. His hand flexed at his side, as if building up courage, before he placed a hand on the wrought iron gate. The hair then seemed to hum with magic before they swung inward. He turned to the group, a tight and strained smile on his face. 

“Welcome to Malfoy Manor.”