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Chapter Text

This is my first time writing a fanfic.

There are some things that I would like to clarify beforehand:

• The characters in this fic are in their sixth year but they are all over eighteen as this work contains smut and I am not comfortable writing underage smut
• Theodore Nott is an ex in this story
• For this work, Tom Riddle is more simplistic and is busier figuring things out. 
• This work contains mentions of themes that could be triggering like rape, torture, suicidal thoughts and ideation, survivor’s guilt, mild PTSD. If you are not comfortable with this, this work isn't for you. I will have trigger warnings in relevant chapters.
• I am obsessed with the Fantastic Beasts movies and I thought it would be a cool crossover to include Newt and Theseus Scamander, as well as Grindelwald in here.
• This work was initially meant to be a form of slice-of-life story where I wanted to explore how Lilia could navigate being thrown back in the past, so things might be a bit slow with the romance and the plot involving Grindelwald. But I hope you like it <3

In this story, the depiction of Tom Riddle is very OOC because I humanised the hell out of him (slightly inspired by Grindelwald himself). If this is not the depiction you are looking for, this work is not for you.

And just a reminder, the characters in this story are not perfect. Lilia has a heavily traumatised background and it might not be everyone's cup of tea that she still manages to be a sweetheart (most of the time). But from my personal experiences, I have met people who have been living with some form of trauma or the other, and they have all been the kindest, sweetest souls I have ever met. I wanted to bring to life a character who is not defined by bitterness or hate, but kindness and love despite everything (but that's not to say that stupid decisions won't be made).

This turned out to be more of a slow burn that I expected. Building the friendships and establishing the foundation of Tom and Lilia's relationship took more time than I intended but I hope you like it!

I did not picture specific people when I wrote out the characters but this is the aesthetic of their relationship in my mind:

And finally, English is not my first language, so please be kind. Any constructive feedback is appreciated throughout the fic!

Happy reading!

Chapter Text

Lilia Potter

"They call me a survivor. But I did not survive. I left pieces of myself in every war, every loss, and the last piece? I gave to you."

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Chapter Text

This could not be happening.

This had to be a cruel joke, a punishment from the skies for being who she was. Or for failing to live up to expectations of her.

She was supposed to steal a time turner from the Department of Magical Mysteries within the Ministry of Magic. She had managed to infiltrate the building disguised as a Minister official and the plan was for her to get her hands on the time turner. The Order of the Phoenix had agreed that this was their best course of action. This was supposed to be the mission that would be the turning point after an unfortunate turn of events. She had the time turner, she just needed to get it to the Order. She had to prove that her magical abilities were on par, if not better than her brother’s.

She had to show the world that she was not just Harry Potter’s sister.

And yet, here she was, lying on the floor with Voldemort cackling while watching her trembling body.

She screamed when he cast the cruciatus, her body bending at odd angles as pain assaulted every fibre of her being. Her thoughts were jumbled and she couldn’t think straight. All she wanted was for the pain to stop. Blood trickled down her nose and she choked on the liquid as it also seeped out of her mouth.

She vaguely registered a blurry barrier of black and skulls behind him, death eaters who were watching as she was completely at the mercy of their lord.

“Ah, the forgotten Potter.” Voldemort’s voice was silky while he kicked her hard on the side.

She whimpered, breath cutting off as she had already sustained a nasty injury to that side. The sole of his shoe dug into her skin, robes sticking uncomfortably to her bloody skin.

The Dark Lord looked down at her with glee in his crimson eyes while he cooed mockingly at her. “It is such a shame that this is how we finally meet. I heard a lot about you.” Tears streamed down her face from the amount of pain and agony she was in. She wanted to tell him to fuck off but he kicked her again, a sickening crack resounding in her ears as her face stung. She could barely scream and she could only think of one thing.

She was going to die.

Voldemort could hear her thoughts and he smirked in satisfaction.

He leaned in and made sure to stare in her eyes, sending chills down her spine. “You will die and no one will remember you. Sweet, pathetic, useless little Potter. Avada Kedavra!”

Her eyes squeezed shut when she caught sight of the green light. Her mind kept screaming one thing over and over when the curse hit her right in the heart.

She failed.

Everything went silent and all the major milestones of her life flashed at the front of her mind.

She thought about how she shared a closet with Harry when she lived at the Dursleys’ house. Their uncle and aunt were abusive towards the two of them, and they only had each other to lean on. She remembered the excitement she felt when they both got their Hogwarts letter. The ache when they got sorted into different houses. Harry was sorted into Gryffindor while she was sorted in Ravenclaw. The surprise when she found out that people knew Harry as “the boy who lived.” The embarrassment when people were confused when they saw her with him and their subtle judgement when she told them she was Harry’s twin sister. She was quieter and more shy while Harry was loud and popular, so she went unnoticed often.

Sometimes, she heard people talking about her, hushed whispers when she walked down the halls.

Who is she without Harry? It hurt.

She remembered the incidents that started from her first year at Hogwarts.

She had to help her brother fight off a troll and the notion was so absurd. What 11 year old was fighting a troll in the safest school in Britain? The Triwizard tournament when Harry had to participate had been her worst moments. She was constantly worrying over his safety and well-being. Cedric Diggory had ended up passing away, and she believed her brother when he told her Voldemort was back.

It had been a gradual descent to hell.

Albus Dumbledore.

Severus Snape.

Fred Weasley.

Remus Lupin.

Sirius Black.

Lavender Brown.

Luna Lovegood.

Harry Potter.

The hours of torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov in the Malfoy Manor.

The Battle had shattered her soul into pieces, her heart unable to withstand the agony of losing so many people she valued.

As a conclusion before her mind drifted away into nothingness, she remembered all her happy moments with the people she loved and cared about.

Spending so much time in the Gryffindor common room with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Meeting Theodore Nott in first-year potions.

Girly talk with Padma and Luna in her dorm together.

Attending the Yule Ball with Theodore.

The small bouts of appreciation she felt for life while on the hunt for Voldemort’s horcruxes.

The simple moments when she hugged her brother and Hermione.

When Luna braided her hair with soft hands.

The lingering kiss the last time she saw Theodore before they each had to go their own way.

Lilia Potter had lived an unfulfilling life and now she would die without the chance of changing anything.

Chapter Text

Lilia woke up with a start, choking and coughing violently. She felt droplets of water falling harshly on her skin and she struggled to keep her eyes open. She sat up, coughing to clear her throat and looked at the grass beneath her. It was raining and her breathing halted when she took in the sight in front of her. She was just by the Great Lake and it was raining heavily. Hogwarts was right in front of her. She was so taken aback by the sight that all she could do was stare at the castle.

How was this possible? The school had been annihilated in the Battle of Hogwarts. She had fought Death Eaters in its ruins. How had she even gotten here? Her body was shaking and she struggled to get a hold of herself. Getting up on shaky legs, she almost slipped but she caught herself right on time. Her black robes were soaked, adding extra weight to her frame. Her limbs still twitched from the aftermath of the cruciatus that Voldemort had inflicted on her. She looked down at herself and wiped away the rain and blood from her face. However, her skin was not stained with blood like she was expecting. In fact, other than her limbs twitching, there was none of the physical proof of the beating she had endured at Voldemort’s hands. Right now, standing in front of Hogwarts, her physical state was not her main priority. She shakily made her way to the castle, eyes wary as she took in her surroundings.

Was this a trick of the Dark Lord? She was certain that she had received the killing curse. How could she be alive? Did her mind take her to Hogwarts because that was her safe place?

The halls were empty and she walked throughout the castle, watching in amazement as the walls, though cold, were warm and inviting to her. She haphazardly walked about, droplets of water dripping from her clothes. She was shivering but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She was home.

She was about to head towards the Great Hall when a voice interrupted her. “Excuse me, miss?” She flinched at the sudden sound that pierced through the silence and she whirled around, hand immediately going to her wand holster on her right thigh.

A bearded man wearing a three piece grey suit walked towards her. His eyes were twinkling but she could see some concern and curiosity shining through. Her eyes widened and her throat constricted when she realised who it was. The comforting voice, the familiar, albeit shorter beard, the face. “Professor Dumbledore?” Lilia’s voice was hoarse, a mere whisper more similar to a croak. He eyed her in surprise, walking towards her in gentle steps.

“Do you know me?” He asked, taking a closer look at her.

She was in a terrible state: her eyes were reddened and from the tears lingering on her cheeks, he guessed that she had been crying for a while. She was completely soaked, probably from the heavy rain outside. Her cheeks were hollow and she seemed to have lost all colour from her face. She nodded, vision blurring and she realised that she was crying. She suddenly felt the tear tracks on her cheeks. Had she been crying all this time? She hadn’t even noticed. She hastily wiped away her tears, sending him a small smile. He watched her struggle to quirk her lips upwards in a smile, fighting away sobs. His heart clenched in pain at the sight and he felt sorry for her.

She felt like she was hit by a bucket of ice cold water when she took in his younger appearance. “What year are we in?” She asked. “1943.” He answered, raising a curious eyebrow at the odd question. “What?” She felt a pit forming in her stomach, dread engulfing her.

1943? How had she travelled back 55 years in the past? That didn’t make sense, not at all.

Sensing her rising panic, Dumbledore quickly interjected. “Now, now. Why don’t you come into my office so we can chat some more and you can have some hot tea?” She swallowed thickly, nodding and following him to his office. When she passed by the Headmaster’s office, she practically smacked her forehead. He was not yet Headmaster, he was still a Transfigurations professor.

“Come in.” He gestured when he got to his office, and she was instantly greeted by a warm fireplace. Dumbledore cast a spell to dry her and she thanked him quietly. His current office was much smaller, but he had a huge bowl of lemon sherbets on his table. The wizard had always been fond of lemon sherbets, she remembered with a small smile. He made her a cup of tea and she sighed in relief when she took a sip, the burning hot liquid sliding down her throat.

Earl grey. Her favourite. “Thank you, professor.”

He hummed and let her rest for a few minutes, before asking her some questions. “How did you come to Hogwarts, my dear?” She debated about whether she should tell him. But this was Dumbledore, the greatest wizard to have ever existed. The one who guided her and Harry when they had to fight against Voldemort. “I- I woke up here, by the Great Lake.” “What’s your name?” “Lilia. Lilia Potter.” His eyes widened in surprise. “Potter?” “Yes. I’m actually… I had a time turner and now I’m here.”

As she said the words, it clicked in her head. The last date on the time turner that she had found was set to October 19, 1943. There was a strong chance that she had been sent here because of the time turner. She had never heard of people being able to travel back in time over so many years. And how was she still alive? She had been killed.

“A time turner? What year are you from?” “1998.” “You are from the future.” He stated this, taking in her blank stare. “I am,” she finally whispered, throat dry.

She sipped on the tea, hands twitching slightly. He didn’t miss the movement and he eyed her warily. “What is the state of the world in the future?” He asked, trying not to probe for anything in specific. It was both a curse and a blessing to have knowledge of the future. “There is a wizarding war,” she replied vaguely, not wanting to give away too many details. “Did you fight in this war?” She nodded. “Well. Your safest option for now is to stay in Hogwarts so we can figure out how to go about this situation. You will be sorted soon and you can head to your dorm to rest. You need it.”

Her face lit up fondly when she remembered her first sorting hat ceremony. Dumbledore was prompt with his actions and soon, she was in Headmaster Dippet’s office.

“Miss Lilia Rousseau, is it? I am sorry to hear about your circumstances, but please rest assured that you will be completely safe at Hogwarts.” She smiled and nodded politely. She was no longer a Potter, she was a Rousseau. She had escaped Gindelwald’s reign of terror in France and had come to seek refuge in Hogwarts. She was a sixth year student at Beauxbatons. Lilia repeated her backstory over and over again in her mind, memorising it in case anyone asked.

When she put on the Sorting Hat, she was apprehensive about the outcome. Had the war changed her? She was no longer the innocent 11 year old little girl who had marvelled at the existence of the magical world. This world had become the bane of her existence and yet, she wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.

Ah Miss Potter. Welcome to your first sorting ceremony.

How do you know who I am?

I know many things but I am simply a sorting hat. Now, let’s see where I can get you sorted this time.

Ravenclaw would be nice.

I’m afraid I will have to consider all your traits before assigning you to a house. And that might not be Ravenclaw.

What do you mean?

You might be needed elsewhere. I sense an undying loyalty towards the people that you cherish and hold close to you. Ah… a need to prove yourself, the fear of not being enough.

I am not sure what you mean. Ravenclaw would be perfect for me.

Ah no, my dear. Not this time, I fear. I see a recent aversion to rules. You want to leave your mark in the world.

Her blood ran cold when she listened to the hat’s voice inside her mind.

No, no, no. Not-

SLYTHERIN!

She gasped audibly when she heard the hat’s final decision.

Slytherin? Why would it sort her into Slytherin? No, she couldn’t be in Slytherin. Her stomach churned as she realised who was still roaming the corridors in 1943. How had it slipped out of her mind? She had spent countless hours looking at the yearbook picture of the graduating class of 1944.

Tom Riddle was in his sixth year and he was a prefect. She was also a sixth year transfer student, as determined by Dumbledore when he tested her magical skills. Technically, she should have been in her seventh year. However, her expertise lied mostly in darker magic due to the war and he hadn’t tested her healing abilities. She had dropped out of school during her sixth year, so academically, she was probably still lacking.

“I don’t know why it sorted me in Slytherin, I used to be in Ravenclaw.” Her words sounded desperate, and Dumbledore smiled slightly but it quickly disappeared. His thoughts darkened when he remembered Tom Riddle, the only student who he was concerned about when it came to his inclination towards the dark side.

“You will be fine.”

His words did not reassure her.

No, no, she would not be. Slytherins were beyond obsessed with the idea of pureblood supremacy. These ideals harboured by Voldemort who was himself a Slytherin, caused a war which resulted in so much destruction. It destroyed Hogwarts itself. In all likelihood, the first generation of Death Eaters were in the castle, passing off as regular students.

She felt nauseous, her stomach twisting violently. Why was fate so cruel towards her? They would question her lineage. Rousseau was a muggle name, they would assume she was muggle-born and turn her life into a living hell.

How would she survive it?

Chapter Text

Lilia followed Dumbledore as he led her to the office of Horace Slughorn.

While Slughorn had been a well-loved professor during her time, she hadn't been fond of him. He was obviously partial to those he deemed worthy of his time and Harry was a perfect target. He was the boy who lived, how could Slughorn miss an opportunity to turn him into an acquaintance? Slughorn had been surprised when he met her; he had never heard of a Lilia Potter and she did not have the same impact as Harry Potter.

The thought made her scoff lightly. Voldemort had inflicted the killing curse on Harry because the prophecy had mentioned that a boy would kill him, not a girl. He had probably not even bothered with her. Like everyone else.

"Miss Rousseau!" She snapped out of her thoughts when Slughorn walked towards her. She hadn't even noticed that they had reached his office and Dumbledore knew that she was not paying attention. His two unanswered questions attested to that.

"Professor Slughorn." She smiled politely. 

"Ah soft spoken, this one. Very nice to meet you, my dear. I am the Head of Slytherin. It is very exciting to have a new addition to our house!" He chuckled and lightly tapped her on the shoulder. 

"Miss Rousseau came here to seek refuge from Grindelwald's war in France." The older man clarified. 

"Such a pity you had to deal with these circumstances. Hogwarts will be good for you!" Slughorn sounded too enthusiastic for her liking but she smiled and nodded nonetheless.

"I will leave her with you, Horace. I have my class starting soon." Dumbledore smiled at Slughorn.

Lilia gulped down her nervousness, this was still Hogwarts. She knew the school like the back of her hand. 

Except for the fact that the future Dark Lord and his death eaters were also here. 

She tried not to think about it while Slughorn led her to the Slytherin common room. It was located underneath the Great Lake and she was surprised at how similar it looked to the one she remembered. She had spent a lot of time in the boys' dorm rooms, seeing as she had been dating Theodore for a while.

She blushed lightly when she saw the couches by the fireplace, remembering how she had straddled his lap and they had made out in the same spot.

She was not a big fan of the interior. The Slytherin colours were mostly dark with different shades of green, silver and black. Being under the Great Lake also limited the amount of natural light that came in and this was a stark contrast to the Ravenclaw common room. She missed the Ravenclaw tower terribly; it had been the one place where she felt safe as she overlooked the entirety of Hogwarts from the windows. It had also been the first tower to crumble when death eaters attacked Hogwarts. She tried not to focus on the ache in her chest and instead, paid attention to Slughorn.

"I will have to leave soon to teach my potions class. We will see each other tomorrow since that's your first class of the day. You should find your clothes, materials and schedule on your bed. Albus is very prompt with these things." He chuckled. 

"Sure, Professor." 

"Oh, one of my prefects will show you around the common room and the castle. Rest up and eat well, my dear." 

She hummed in agreement as he left.

When Voldemort won the Battle of Hogwarts, they had to go into hiding and supplies were limited. She spent most of her time in the healing quarters, helping Hermione tend to the wounded and in the duelling quarters, practising spells with Ron. She barely had time to eat, focusing her energy on things that would be useful. She had become well-versed in using dark curses and she could feel their traces on her body.

"Miss Rousseau?" 

She whirled around violently, hand immediately holding on to the wand strapped to her thigh. Her stomach twisted further in knots.

The young man stared at her with a curious look, raising an eyebrow as he took in her body.

She was a short woman and he watched the fingers grabbing onto her wand. She was wearing black robes, underneath which were black pants and a black shirt. He had never seen a woman wear pants. How odd. He focused on her face again, watching the fear that was etched across her features and he tilted his head to the side, jaw clenching as he thought about why she was reacting like that. She looked sick and while her skin was tanned, it somehow lacked any colour. Her hair was black and messy. She didn't look healthy at all.

"Are you okay?" 

Lilia quickly gathered herself and nodded. 

Tom Riddle was nothing like what she expected. She thought that she would be able to see the ugly horns of dark magic on his head, that he would be incredibly mean towards her. Instead, he had an attractive face and a charming smile, his voice as smooth and silky as honey. He was nothing like Voldemort.

"Would you like some water?" He asked, approaching her carefully with his hands clasped behind his back. She involuntarily backed away into one of the couches to create some distance between them. "I- Yes, I would like some water." She stuttered, looking at his green tie to avoid his eyes.

"This way." He watched her unsure eyes come up to meet his as she nodded. What a strange girl, he thought as she came to his side and they walked to the other side of the common room.

There was a refilling water fountain on one of the tables and Lilia watched in surprise as the empty glasses filled up with water on their own. She had never seen anything like that in the Slytherin common room. Tom Riddle grabbed one glass of water and handed it to her. She immediately gulped down the water, the crisp and cool liquid making her feel much better than before. She hadn't realised how much she missed water. While in hiding, the only water they had was flat and stale. This was cool and fresh, and it revived some part of her.

When she was done, she sighed softly in relief. 

"Better?" 

She looked up at the prefect who was towering over her and while she knew this was Voldemort, the lack of similarities in appearance calmed her nerves down. He was a gentleman and she knew that he acted the way he did to keep up appearances. However, she was grateful for it even though she knew it was a lie. It gave her a false sense of reassurance.

"Much better. Thank you." She replied softly, smiling slightly at him. He was surprised to see that she had dimples. She looked nice even though she seemed sickly.

"My pleasure. My name is Tom Riddle, and I am a Slytherin prefect." He introduced himself and held out a hand for her to shake. She took his hand in hers and felt the callouses on his thumb and pointer finger. A small chill went down her spine when she noticed his hand engulfing hers and it made her feel small.

"Lilia Rousseau. I am a sixth year transfer student." 

"Nice to meet you, Rousseau. If you don't mind me asking, where are you transferring from?" 

"Beauxbatons. I had to come here to seek refuge from the war. You know, Grindelwald." She hoped that she sounded convincing because if there was one thing she knew about Tom Riddle, it was that he had an insatiable curiosity about everything. 

"Yes, I know of the war. Well, I hope Hogwarts is a good place for you. You will like it here, it is a castle of many mysteries."

He had a fond smile on his face and she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. He clearly loved Hogwarts and yet, he would be the cause of its destruction in the future. Breaking his soul must have made him lose his mind.

Lilia watched Tom blankly and he frowned. She was thinking about something else and he wanted to enter her mind to see the cause of the empty look on her face. 

"Do you like Hogwarts?" She asked, voice thoughtful. 

"Hogwarts is my home." Right, he had grown up in an orphanage. 

"I'm sure I'll like it then." 

"You will. Now if you would please follow me, I will show you around." She nodded and walked behind him. He was wearing a three piece suit underneath his Slytherin robes and she had to admit that he was extremely good-looking.

The most handsome man she had ever seen in her life (Poor Theodore).

"To your right is the girls' dormitory. To your left, the boys'." He gestured as he stood in the middle of a hallway that split in three directions before continuing. "The two rooms in front of us belong to the Headboy and the Headgirl." 

"So you are on the left?" The question left her mouth before she could process it and she turned red when he looked back to give her a small smirk. "If you need me, yes." 

"Okay." Her voice was high pitched, making him chuckle silently.

Indeed, what a strange girl who did not seem to have any reservations. They went outside and walked down the hallways of the castle. "Curfew is after 11 at night. If you are caught outside after that time, you will lose house points and that will affect the winner of the house cup." She couldn't believe that such a concept had been a big thing at Hogwarts. When you were fighting for your life, winning a trophy didn't seem as important.

She tuned him out as he talked about the different classes and a sense of dread filled her up gradually.

Why was she already so comfortable with this boy who would end up becoming the cause of death of thousands of muggles and muggleborns? He would kill all those she loved as well as her own self. Was she not ashamed of herself?

She tried not to think of it and instead focused on his smooth voice. For some strange reason, it reassured her and she mentally scoffed at the irony.

This was going to be a ride.

Chapter Text

As soon as Lilia plopped down on her bed, she fell asleep.

Tom Riddle stared at her in disbelief. How had she fallen asleep so quickly while he was still talking to her? He was taken aback by her lack of manners and self-preservation, seeing as she sprawled down on the bed and was out like a light.

Shaking his head, he sighed and got closer, intending to tuck her under the covers. As he shifted her, he felt how delicate her body was in his grip and he felt the softness of her skin through her robes. However, something caught his eye while he was moving her hands around. Her sleeve slid and he could see a scar on the palm of her left hand.

I deserve this .

The scar had faded but it was still visible. He stared at it for a while before looking at her face again. She looked more peaceful in her sleep, like she was resting after a lifetime. Who was Lilia Rousseau and what led her to Hogwarts?

After leaving her a small note on her bedside table, he left her with more questions in mind than he would have liked.

Why did she look scared when she first saw him?

Why had she immediately reached for her wand when he called out her name?

What was the scar on her palm?

Lilia Rousseau was not a pureblood, he didn’t recognise the last name. That meant she was either a half-blood or a muggleborn. She was probably the former since Slytherin rarely got muggleborn students. The old hat had made an interesting choice by sorting her here.

He would have to wait and see what made her worthy of his house.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia felt someone shaking her and she jumped up so fast it made her dizzy for a few seconds. When her vision cleared up, she saw two girls standing by her bed and looking at her with concern.

“Are you okay?” The blonde one asked and Lilia gulped but nodded. “Gave us quite a scare when you got up so fast. It’s like you were getting ready to hex us.” The brunette chuckled lightly. That had been her first reaction after spending months on the run. “Sorry, I was exhausted.” She muttered, cringing when she heard how hoarse her voice sounded.

“It’s all good. I’m Evangeline Selwyn.” Evangeline was a beautiful woman, with blonde hair, rosy cheeks and beautiful blue eyes. “I’m Celeste Meadows.” Celeste was ethereal, with stunning tan skin, hazel eyes and brown hair, and adorable freckles on her cheeks. “Nice to meet you. I’m Lilia P- Rousseau.” She almost let her real name slip out, and she watched the two girls give her a quizzical look. “Lilia Rousseau? Are you from France?” Evangeline asked her. “I am, I grew up there.” “Oh, I heard things are really bad in France right now with the war.” “Yeah, the war has taken away many things from me.” Lilia left her answer vague, not wanting to give away too much.

And technically, she had been part of a war too. Just in a different timeline.

“You poor thing.” Celeste cooed softly, approaching her and stroking her hair. “How about you take a bath and change into your robes? Dinner is in about an hour.” Lilia gave a quick smile and a nod, throat choked up on emotion.

Celeste reminded her of Luna who had always been fascinated by how black her hair was. Luna had been the last person to have treated her with such care.

She got up and headed to their shared bathroom, closing the door behind her and marvelling at how nice it felt to be in an actual bathroom. 

There was a ceramic tub and toiletries labelled on each shelf. She was surprised when she saw her name on one of the shelves along with a range of face and body products.

Lilia Rousseau.

That was her new identity in this world where she knew no one. The weight of loneliness increased considerably as she undressed and drew a warm bath, sinking in the hot water. With a soft moan of relief, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. She hadn’t realised how tense her muscles had been until that moment.

Her thoughts wandered back to her predicament.

She didn’t have anyone she loved or cared about here. But then, most of those people had been killed in her time. She had always been alone, the only person she had cared about being Harry.

Hogwarts had been a pivotal point in her life as she got to meet amazing people. People who loved her but still compared her to her extraordinary brother.

She felt guilty as her thoughts strayed in that direction. She loved Harry, always did and always would. Often she thought about how it should have been her who died. The Order needed Harry, not the useless sibling. Lilia shuddered and started to clean herself with honey scented soap. 

There was a strong contrast between the sweet smell of the soap and her bitter thoughts. I

should have died, why did Harry die?  She thought, tears springing to her eyes. However, she quickly blinked them away.

She hated herself for crying so easily, a habit she had developed when she watched her brother die at the hands of Voldemort. Up until then, she had made sure to hide her feelings because they were never as important as Harry’s. She didn’t want to be labelled an attention seeker because she was obviously the lesser sibling. It didn’t matter that she had always been in a tie with Hermione at the end of each school year, that she was excellent in anything she did. It never mattered when Harry was the boy who lived and Hermione was the brightest witch of her age.

No, Lilia was the sister no one had bothered with. She always helped, but she figured things out slightly after Hermione always did.

She was not important. 

She should have died instead of Harry. It was like a cruel joke: she was supposed to prove her worth by retrieving the time turner but instead, she was tortured and killed by Voldemort himself. To make matters worse, by some twist of fate, she had been sent to a past where she would be attending schools with her murderer and his death eaters.

Tom Riddle looked boyish and she couldn’t understand how that could have been possible at all. If she remembered correctly, he killed his father and grandparents the previous summer. And yet, he looked as pristine and charming as one could get. Lilia knew it was all meant to be a facade to deceive people and she had to give him credit for playing his part very well.

Her hands shook slightly as she washed herself, the tremor seemingly permanent after enduring the cruciatus so many times that she had lost count. It was not visibly noticeable, so she didn’t worry about it too much. She didn’t think that anyone would pay attention to that.

When she got out of the bath, she made to grab a towel but her reflection in the mirror captured her attention. She looked terrible. She stared at herself, taking in the multiple scars that littered her skin from encounters with nasty hexes and curses while fighting death eaters. Her eyes trailed to the scars on her thighs and her body started trembling at the memory of Antonin Dolohov forcing himself on her, a fact that she kept hidden from everyone.

Lilia didn’t want to feel the shame of people knowing that her body had been violated; even though the war had turned them all into victims, she didn’t want to have an extra strike on top of facing death every single day. The two things that reassured her in times of distress were the necklace she wore, which was a gift from Theo and her bracelet. She never took these off to be prepared at all times.

Trembling hands reached out to a body lotion and she applied it to her skin, chest aching as she went over all her scars with gentle movements. Her scars had become part of who she was now, and she was ashamed of her appearance. She made sure to cover up all the time, just like the others who carried scars. 

Lilia Potter had always been a romantic at heart and she had always wanted to find a lifelong partner.

But that was before the war, before her mind and body were ruined. Now, she didn’t see the point of being alive when there was nothing to look forward to. It did feel nice, however, to take care of herself in a way that she hadn’t been able to do in a long time. She did her skincare and got dressed in her new uniform. The green looked strange on her but she didn’t mind it as much as she anticipated.

“Oh Lilia!” Celeste exclaimed when she came out of the bathroom. “Let me style your hair, it is absolutely stunning!” Lilia chuckled lightly. “Sure.”

The brunette immediately took out her wand and dried her hair, styling it with subtle flicks of her wrist. “And let’s add some colour to your beautiful face.” Evangeline chimed in, applying blush and lipstick on her face. They guided her to the bathroom mirror to show her how she looked and she gasped.

Her hair had been styled into loose curls and she looked so much more alive with the makeup. “This is amazing!” She exclaimed, “Thank you!” “Of course, darling. Girls need to look good to make a good first impression.” Lilia gave them a strained smile when Evangeline spoke. How had she forgotten? This was the forties, where feminism had barely started out. A girl was supposed to sit pretty and a boy was supposed to earn for the two.

While her two roommates were freshening up, she noticed a note on her bedside table and picked it up curiously. 

It is considered bad manners to fall asleep when someone is tending to you. -TR 

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Right, she did remember that he was talking about meal times when she lied down on her new bed. She must have fallen asleep instantly; she hadn’t slept in such a comfortable bed in so long.

Tom Riddle’s handwriting was very elegant and she couldn’t help but stare at how nice the cursive looked. How did someone who would become so rotten be excellent at everything, be it appearance or education? She couldn’t believe how menial the encounter with him had been, he was just like a regular boy . Nothing about him indicated that he was the next Dark Lord.

She headed to the Great Hall with Celeste and Evangeline gushing about how happy they were to meet her and how they couldn’t wait for her to meet their other friends. She would have to make new friends here, build a new social support system until she found a way back. She had to prove that she was still alive, that she hadn’t failed.

That was the right thing to do, right? 

Lilia sat down at the Slytherin table, getting a few curious glances as she was the only face the students didn’t recognise. Her breath halted momentarily when Tom Riddle sat right in front of her. “Rousseau.” He acknowledged her with a small nod which she mirrored. She would have to keep their encounters to a minimum. If he found out that she came from the future, she could not imagine what he would do to her. Holding such power was a burden and other than Dumbledore, she couldn’t trust anyone. Especially not in Slytherin.

“Did you give her a tour of the school?” Celeste asked Tom and he nodded. “Awesome! Well Lilia, this is Tom Riddle as you already know. And these are our other friends!” She turned to look at the two other boys who sat next to Tom.

“Abraxas Malfoy.” Celeste pointed to a tall platinum blonde guy who sat on Tom’s right.

“And Tiernan Nott.”

Good lord. The grandfathers of Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Abraxas Malfoy had the blonde hair typical of all Malfoys and Tiernan Nott looked so similar to Theo that she had to calm her nerves down.

“I’m Lilia P- Rousseau. I transferred from Beauxbatons.” She swallowed thickly, mentally reprimanding herself for slipping yet again.

“What you’re not introducing me?” Another boy with shoulder length curly hair sat down on Tom’s left with a mischievous smile on his face. “You can do it yourself.” Celeste remarked, sending a fake smile when he frowned.

“Icarus Lestrange.” He beamed at Lilia while her stomach was churning with nerves.

Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange . 

Tom observed Lilia’s expressions, noting how she seemed to have paled when Icarus introduced himself.

She still introduced herself even as she kept reminding herself that he was not related to Bellatrix, who was originally a Black. “Lilia Rousseau.” “Beautiful.” She blushed when Icarus made that comment and Tom held back a scoff. He was already flirting with the new girl, that shouldn’t have been surprising.

“Thank you,” Lilia mumbled, making the others chuckle. “Look at how red you are. Are you shy, Lilia?” Evangeline beamed at her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “No I’m not,” she replied, not sure how to respond.

“Icarus, go easy on her,” Abraxas chimed in, lightly punching Icarus’ back behind Tom.

The latter shook his head in mild exasperation. They were so childish but he couldn’t see himself going about without these people around him. Tom Riddle hated the unknown and the unfamiliar: he wouldn’t give up on their company while he was at Hogwarts.

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat interrupted their conversation and the hall became silent.

“Today, we have a new student joining us,” Headmaster Dippet began, facing in Lilia’s direction. Oh no, he would introduce her to the whole school and everyone would turn to look at her. Merlin, she hated being the centre of attention.

“Please join me in welcoming Lilia Rousseau, a transfer student from Beauxbatons!” Everyone turned to look at her when the headmaster pointed in her direction. There were claps around the hall and the students at the Slytherin table cheered loudly. Lilia was practically beet red with everyone’s attention on her and she smiled around awkwardly before looking down at Tom’s uniform in front of her. 

Tom didn’t hold back an amused smile. It was rare to see a Slytherin who was so shy, which made her more intriguing.

Why Slytherin? Why Hogwarts? He had found it suspicious that she seemed to have confused her name when she introduced herself. His instincts told him that she was hiding something and he wanted to find out.

“I have never met a Slytherin who is shy.” He commented, smirking when she frowned at him. “Now you have.” “It seems like it.” Lilia didn’t like how he seemed to be analysing her and she was hyper aware of the expression on her face.

“Did you transfer because of Grindelwald?” Tiernan asked, grabbing a sandwich as soon as food appeared on the table. “I did. The situation was getting too dangerous,” she replied, eyes trailing on all the delicacies that were in front of her. Her stomach growled loudly when she smelled the roasted chicken. When was the last time she had eaten any form of meat? Her diet over the past months had consisted mainly of bread, cheese, fruits and vegetable soup.

“Your family does not support Grindelwald then?” The question caught her off guard. Of course it was Abraxas Malfoy who asked that question. She hesitated before speaking, “It’s complicated. We didn’t want to get involved.” Abraxas hummed but eyed her suspiciously. Lilia gulped and took a bite of her chicken sandwich.

Something had shifted in the air even as the others chatted among themselves. How had they managed to bring up a conversation like that in the first encounter? Were they judging her based on her response?

She continued eating, making it a goal to try everything on the table.

Tom stared at her, watching her eat like she hadn’t been fed in days. Icarus kept giving her new pastries to try and she didn’t refuse. Everything tasted divine, she hadn’t eaten so well in so long. 

Unfortunately, later that night, she threw up in the bathroom. She felt sick and nauseous as she sat down on the floor, Evangeline holding her hair and rubbing her back.

"Thank you for helping out." Lilia croaked, her throat sore from throwing up.

"Have some of this." Celeste handed her a cup when she walked out of the bathroom. 

"What is this?" She took the cup in her hand and brought it to her nose, smelling mint. 

"It's a concoction my mother gave me in case I get sick. Have some of it, it should make you feel better." 

Lilia took a few sips and hummed appreciatively. It was cool and minty, soothing her throat and stomach, and she instantly felt better. "Thank you." She smiled at the two girls. 

"Our pleasure."

Evangeline broke the silence after some time. "Lilia?" 

"Yes?" 

"Most of us come from strictly pureblood families," she began. Lilia focused on the blonde girl, listening carefully. "We were raised to believe that purebloods are superior to everyone else. That's why Abraxas asked that question earlier. But Celeste and I don't believe in that."

She let out a sigh of relief, the words having been of greater reassurance than she would have expected. "The boys are just... They take it more seriously than we do." 

"I'll keep that in mind," Lilia said. 

"What do you think of it?" Celeste asked. 

"I don't agree with the idea of killing muggles for no reason other than the fact that we have to hide ourselves. It is tiring, but it is no reason to kill them off. We are a minority, no matter how much we hate it. The world wouldn't be balanced if we were to eliminate billions just for us. Nothing justifies a genocide."

The two other girls visibly flinched when she used the word genocide, making her shudder lightly.

"You think it's a genocide?" 

The male voice startled her and she looked towards the door, heart leaping in her chest when she saw Tom Riddle standing there.

The latter walked towards her in long strides, stopping at a respectful distance.

"Riddle, what in the name of Merlin are you doing in the girls' dorm?" Evangeline sighed, hands on her hips. 

"Prefect rounds," he answered, eyes still on Lilia. "Tell me more about what you think of Grindelwald," he continued, tilting his head slightly towards her.

Gulping, she answered, "I think it's a genocide. There is no reason to kill them off just to prove that witches and wizards are superior." 

"What about the fact that we have to keep ourselves hidden for their safety?" 

"Muggles would hurt us if they found out about our abilities, like with the Salem Witch Trials in America. It is better to stay hidden. It's not fair, but I think it is a small price to pay as opposed to eliminating billions of people." 

"Isn't it fair to show muggles that they are not powerful? They would hurt us with no second thought, why shouldn't we?" 

"I guess, it would be fair. But we make up a minority of the world. Everything would be chaotic." She paused. "We cannot remain strictly within pureblood confines because that would make us go extinct. There are too few pureblood families, we need muggles to be able to pass down magical genes and keep the community alive."

Tom exhaled and stared at Lilia's face.

"Pureblood supremacists have taken away so much already," she added in a lower voice.

He saw the sorrow on her face, making him wonder if she lost anyone in Grindelwald's war. "Interesting. I understand your point." He clenched his jaw, thinking over the words of the girl in front of her.

The latter was surprised that his reaction had been... respectful. She thought that it would have been hard for him to hide his displeasure at this topic that meant so much to him. At least from what she had known him as in the future as Voldemort.

Tom wondered why she had such a strong opinion about it when she had mentioned that she didn't want to get involved earlier. It was an interesting viewpoint, one which he hadn't considered; he had not really bothered if he was being honest.

He observed the girl, noticing that she looked sick again. Most of her makeup had faded. It had been hard not to notice the obvious blush and lipstick when he had seen her before.

"Are you ill?" He asked, before he could stop himself.

Evangeline and Celeste were surprised. Tom Riddle had never inquired about any of their health before, even if they were clearly sick. That was more so because when they were sick, it was obvious and he did not feel the need to confirm what he already knew. 

He would have cared about their surprise if he wasn't so focused on the fact that there was more to Lilia Rousseau than what she let on.

"She threw up," Evangeline said. "But I gave her something to drink, so she should be fine."

He nodded, looking back at Lilia who bit on her lower lip nervously while staring at him.

Intriguing . 

Chapter Text

Lilia felt awful when she woke up the following day.

Her stomach was still queasy and although Celeste's potion had helped, the thought of eating again made her feel nauseous. It was ironical really. She finally had proper food and shelter and her body's reaction was to get sick.

She got out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up. She pulled out the charm in her bracelet and enlarged it with her wand to reveal a satchel. She had applied a magical extension charm to it, and she dug in to find the calming draught that she needed to manage her tremors. She couldn't cast spells properly without them and she wanted to avoid negative attention on her. She swallowed one vial of the blue liquid, noting that she had about five weeks' worth of supply before she would need to brew it again.

By the time she was done, her roommates were up and complaining about how cold the weather was getting.

"Lilia, you have no idea how cold it can get up here. Hogwarts is up on a hill, and the breeze gets so cold," Evangeline exclaimed, clearly exasperated. Oh, she had a good idea.

"That won't be good for me. I get cold so easily," Lilia said, sitting down at the shared dresser table and adjusting her tie in the mirror. She brushed light fingers through her hair which was soft after she had washed it the previous day. 

When Celeste came out of the bathroom, she insisted on doing Lilia's hair. "I have such a cute hairstyle for you, Lilia! I can't wait to see how it turns out." 

She giggled slightly and let Celeste work with her hair. "Do you like my hair?" 

"It's so dark and beautiful. The only other person who has hair just like yours is Riddle."

Lilia's smile faded slightly at the mention of the prefect.

How in the name of Merlin was there a similarity between her and future Voldemort? The notion made her uncomfortable and solidified her plan of keeping their interactions to a minimum.

She wasn't even sure if she should try avoiding Abraxas Malfoy and Tiernan Nott. Draco and Theo had been raised with pureblood ideologies but they had not enforced these while at Hogwarts.

She had a better friendship with Draco than Harry, seeing as the latter hated that Draco had insulted Ron the first time they met on the train while on their way to Hogwarts in first year. Lilia met Draco and Theo in potions as they had been at the same table in the Slytherin-Ravenclaw class. She later found out that Draco had only wanted to befriend Harry and that he hadn't realised how his words came across. He was a boy who was just repeating what he had heard from his father. Theo was mischievous and had instantly taken a liking to her when she had made a sarcastic remark.

She knew that their grandfathers had been strict with enforcing their pureblood ideals, so she had to assume that Abraxas and Tiernan were firm believers of pureblood supremacy.

How could Celeste and Evangeline be friends with them? Icarus Lestrange had seemed nice and had been flirty with her, but he was still a Lestrange nonetheless.

Why Slytherin out of all houses? 

She stared at her reflection in the mirror as Celeste braided strands of her hair and she watched in amazement as the hairstyle was cute. It consisted of two small braids that framed her face with white ribbons at the end of the braids.

"This is beautiful," Lilia complimented, eyes lit up with admiration. 

"You are beautiful! See the contrast between the white ribbon and your black hair? I love it!" Celeste gushed, making Lilia smile widely. 

"Looks like you are her new guinea pig." Evangeline commented when she came out of the bathroom before continuing. "But you look so pretty!" 

"I don't mind being her guinea pig at all." Lilia laughed and turned her face to the sides, looking at the hairstyle from different angles.

"Let's go get breakfast now," Evangeline chimed in and Lilia nodded.

Grabbing their bags and materials for the day, they headed to the Great Hall. Many students were already up and chatting happily with their friends. Lilia had missed this sense of normalcy. She remembered the days when she would rush to breakfast with Padma and Luna and debate about whether adding milk to pumpkin juice was a delicacy or an atrocity. Lilia had discovered this odd combination by mistake and she had loved it.

As she sat at the table, she mixed her drinks to create what she had termed a world-changing pumpkin shake. "Did you just mix juice and milk?" Icarus gaped as he took a seat right next to her, startling her. 

"Hello to you too, and yes I did." Lilia smiled at him. 

"Salazar help me, you look like an angel yet act like a demon," he sighed dramatically, making her scoff. 

"That's all it takes for me to be a demon? Very low standards." 

"Huh. Let me try this little mixture then," he said, taking her cup in his hands. 

"Use your spoon," she reprimanded, making him roll his eyes. "You're so peculiar about this," he grumbled. 

"I don't want your saliva anywhere near me."

"Icarus, are you doing fine after she just insulted you?" Tiernan chuckled and he sat down in front of her.

Tom and Abraxas were behind him and the former sat right in front of her again. She cleared her throat, choosing to focus on Tiernan and Icarus instead of the charming man in front of her. "I'll take whatever I'm offered." Icarus said and dipped his spoon in Lilia's shake before bringing it to his lips. His eyes widened in surprise. "Fuck, this is actually so good!" 

"Language." Tom chided, raising an eyebrow at Lestrange. 

"Okay, father." The latter mocked before looking at Lilia. "You, pretty girl, are a genius!" 

"I told you so." Lilia felt smug and the others each took a spoon to try out her shake.

"Don't you want some?" She asked Tom, who was simply eating an apple. "I don't fancy the idea of juice and milk together." 

"So prejudiced," she tutted. 

Riddle raised an eyebrow before sighing and grabbing his spoon. Lilia blushed slightly when she watched the way his lips wrapped around the spoon and the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. Why was he so attractive?

"It's quite pleasant." He noted, eyes meeting hers as one side of his lips curled up in a small smirk. She was surprised when he actually made his own shake and she couldn't help the smile on her face when they all seemed to like the drink.

Padma, you would hate to see this .

After breakfast, Lilia headed to the potions classroom with Tom and Abraxas since the others had different schedules.

"How are you liking Hogwarts so far?" Abraxas asked her. "It's very comfortable," she replied, feeling small next to the two men who were practically a foot taller than her.

"Are you feeling better today?" Tom asked her, looking down at her just as she looked up at him in surprise. Flustered, she quickly replied, "Yes, I am. Thanks for checking in." 

"Just my duty as a prefect." It was a lie, one that he made up because he noticed that she had only drunk her weird milky juice that he didn't like that much (he had three cups of it) . Lilia hadn't eaten and after she threw up last night, this couldn't be a good sign.

They all sat at the same table for potions, Lilia sitting right next to Tom. This seemed to make Slughorn happy. "Ah Tom is my best student." He commented, sending a cheeky smile her way. She smiled back awkwardly and heard Tom scoff. She knew that Tom had always indulged the older man for his own benefits. It's how he found out how to make horcruxes. Had he already started his research on them? She did not remember the exact timeline of when he turned his diary into a horcrux, but it would have been during this year or the next.

"Are you not his best student?" She asked him, a questioning look on her face. "Oh, I am. There's no one better than me. He just likes to boast about it." Tom had a smug look on his face and she wanted to smack that annoying smirk away. 

"Hmm. Let's see about that." 

"Is that a challenge, Rousseau?" 

"It is." Lilia smiled at him sweetly, confident in her abilities to excel in potions. She had always been the top student for potions, a fact that Hermione and Draco had both hated. On top of that, she had brewed so many potions while working for the Order and she was practically an expert.

Tom eyed the dark haired girl with slightly narrowed eyes, determined to prove her wrong.

"Today we will be going over an interesting potion that you will be tested on for your NEWTS. The draught of peace. An ironically complicated potion to brew. Who can tell me the purpose of this draught?" Slughorn looked around the room expectantly, a satisfied smile on his face when he saw two of his own students sitting side by side with their arm raised.

"Yes Rousseau?"

"The draught of peace relieves anxiety and agitation. However, when wrongly brewed, it can put the drinker into a deep sleep." 

"Amazing! Ten points to Slytherin."

Lilia gave Tom a sarcastic smile, making him frown (cutely but she didn't want to associate the word cute with a future dark lord) .

Abraxas watched Lilia and Tom warily, already suspicious about the former.

The girl had fled from France and did not seem to agree with Grindelwald's views. He was expected to follow these ideals and to pass them down to his own children when he gets married.

Tom had been receptive to pureblood ideologies, taking to them more easily than he would have anticipated. Tom seemed to adhere to them more than Abraxas himself. The latter admired his commitment and dedication, knowing that Tom would make a fine Minister if that were to be his dream career. He was a good speaker, persuasive, and unbelievably excellent in his academic pursuits.

Abraxas had never seen Tom chatting with a girl the way he did with Lilia.

The previous night, Tom had told him that he had to get closer to the girl to learn more about her because he was convinced that she was hiding something. He was most likely right, and he knew that this was necessary.

Yet, Abraxas couldn't justify why he felt threatened and hurt when he watched Tom and Lilia interact in front of him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia’s courseload was heavy, but since Albus had already tested her abilities, it wasn’t too hard for her.

She was in classes she found very interesting, like Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Study of Ancient Runes. Unlike during her time, students were not required to take as many subjects and she found it easier to manage. She was enrolled in six classes, all of which she had been personally interested in. 

The first week of classes passed by smoothly for Lilia who fell into an easy routine. She would wake up and make sure to take a calming draught for the day, get breakfast with her new friends, go to her classes, get dinner, work in the library, hang out in the common room, and sleep.

In fact, it came so easily that her nights soon became plagued with nightmares where she constantly replayed the most traumatic moments of the war: the torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, Harry’s death, the realisation that she didn’t mind killing people, the gradual loss of her friends, parting ways with Theo, and the image of her brother’s shredded body hanging from a pole in the middle of Hogsmeade.

She had no say in what her mind decided to inflict upon itself, and she woke up screaming a few times.

The first time it happened, she saw Harry and her first reaction had been to cry. She ran up to him, intending to hug him but he pushed her away. When her vision had cleared up, she realised with horror that he had a look of disgust on his face. “How can you live with yourself when I had to die?” She had been speechless, too choked up on emotions to be able to say anything. Silent tears streamed down her face as she watched him slowly morph into the decaying body she had seen hanging in Hogsmeade. “How can you live when I became like this? How is it fair?” He slowly started to fade away, and she screamed. “No, no, no! Harry, please, I’m sorry. Harry!” 

Lilia had woken up with a gasp, and Celeste and Evangeline were shaking her awake.

“Lilia, wake up. It’s just a nightmare.” Evangeline had whispered in an attempt to soothe her.

“What happened?” She asked, voice hoarse and nightmare still fresh in her mind. “You started screaming in your sleep.” Celeste replied softly, eyes watching the dark haired girl in front of her with worry. “I’m sorry,” she apologised, feeling guilty for disturbing them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Evangeline asked, squeezing her fisted hand gently. She shook her head no, “No, not really. I’ll go back to sleep.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. I’m sorry for waking you up.” “It’s okay, rest well.”

Lilia watched the two girls walk back to their own bed, and she cast a silencing spell. The beds came with their own drapes to give them some form of privacy and she was grateful for that. They wouldn’t see her shaking and squirming uncomfortably when her sweaty skin met her cold sheets. 

After this first occurrence, she would have nightmares of everyone she loved blaming her for getting to live a proper school life while they died. She made sure to charm her bed with a silencing spell so that she wouldn’t disturb her roommates.

Most nights, she woke up with a start and the memory of all her loved ones reproaching her.

Why do you get to live? How can you befriend the enemy?

It was exhausting and the guilt was eating at her.

However, on a more twisted note, she found comfort in the fact that she could see them, talk to them, hear their voice during her nightmares. They were not really nightmares, were they? They had to be dreams because she always felt relieved when she saw them even as she woke up with her heart heavy with guilt.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Potions was more theory driven than during her time. Slughorn took a few sessions to provide a detailed explanation about the draught of peace before finally having students brew the potion. Two weeks after she first started her classes at Hogwarts, she was finally able to put her skills to use.

This had been the longest time that she had gone without brewing anything. With the Order, she was always brewing so many different types of potions to take care of the students as well as those who got injured against death eaters. 

She was quite accomplished, especially since she brewed the Wolfsbane potion for Remus Lupin every time he went through his transformation. A dull ache filled her chest again at his memory. He lived with lycanthropy, a fact that he divulged to Harry and Lilia after trying to keep it hidden. It had been hard to find the ingredients needed for the potion, and she had gone on a mission with Luna, Fred and Ron to steal them from Hogwarts.

Lilia was closer to Remus than Sirius, finding in him a father figure that she never had. He shared his insecurities with her, how he felt worthless because he was a lycanthrope and the wizarding society shunned werewolves. They had found a common point that they could share their feelings on. She told him that she felt worthless because she was not as impressive as Harry or Hermione, she didn’t have the same impact.

She still remembered the sad look on his face as he spoke to her. “You are too young. No one your age should be having thoughts like that. Nothing about your family or school is normal, Lilia. You were meant to have loving parents and your biggest worry was supposed to be whether your crush likes you back.”

Instead, as a mere child, she had to deal with a dark lord who had lost his mind and who was hellbent on eliminating anyone associated with Harry. 

“Rousseau, you are done already? Merlin!” Slughorn’s comment snapped her out of whatever daze she had been in and she stared at the cauldron in front of her. The potion was white, a telltale sign that she had correctly brewed the draught. “It is absolutely perfect, twenty points to Slytherin!”

Lilia smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Have you brewed this before?” Tom asked her, watching the solemn expression on her face. “No.” She replied, turning to look at his potion which had just turned orange. “How did you finish so fast?” “Are you impressed?” “Merely curious.” “I remembered the instructions from my readings.”

Tom hummed in response and added seven drops of powdered porcupine quills in the potion, the colour changing from orange to white. Lilia had to admit that Tom Riddle was very talented: this was most definitely his first attempt and he had brewed it correctly. She remembered that she had struggled the first time she tried making the draught of peace and Snape had been more than happy to insult her.

Tom was convinced that she had spaced out and she had still brewed a perfect potion. She had not responded when Abraxas had asked for her to pass the satchel of powdered unicorn horn. He noticed that she seemed almost bored during lectures and yet, she scored outstanding marks in all her assessments.

When most students had finished brewing the potion (and failed) , Slughorn highlighted the steps where most common mistakes were made. Lilia sat next to Tom, his scent tickling her nostrils pleasantly.

Parchment, mint and a hint of smoke .

She shuddered lightly when his knee brushed against her own. Tom was looking away from her, watching Slughorn intently. She took the time to take him in. Tom Riddle was nothing like Voldemort and she didn’t know how to piece the two of them together. They made small talk while eating together in the Great Hall, but she had tried her best to avoid him in the library because she was always searching up books on time travel. It would look suspicious if he always saw her reading something related to that.

Tom Riddle was academically gifted, excellent at duelling from what she had seen in their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, charming, polite and unbelievably attractive . He often read the newspaper in the Slytherin common room, something that she had somehow never considered. She knew that Voldemort had been extremely powerful, even as a young wizard but it was strange to see him putting in the effort.

Everything had always seemed effortless with Voldemort but Tom Riddle worked hard every single day. 

Later that evening, she was lying in bed while reading up on magical creatures.

Newt Scamander had been one of her favourite authors and his work on magical creatures stroked the soft spot that she had for animals. Yawning, she put away her book and got out of bed to head to the bathroom before going to sleep. When she pulled away the drapes around her bed, she noticed that none of her roommates were in bed. Strange. It was pretty late and they were usually in bed at this time.

Curious, she walked out of her bedroom and made her way out when she heard hushed voices coming from the common room. Slowly creeping down the hallway, she paused when she could hear people speak more clearly.

“Malfoy, has your family heard back from Grindelwald?” Tom’s voice cut through the air even though he was not speaking loudly.

Lilia listened to them with halted breaths, heart pounding at the mention of Grindelwald.

“They have. My parents will be hosting a ball with other pureblood families and Grindelwald mentioned in his letter that he would like to discuss whether a war in Britain is feasible. Although, it seems that there is something between Dumbledore and Grindelwald that’s holding him back.”

“Good. This will be our chance to learn more about how Grindelwald operates. We are not looking to join his ranks, but to learn more.”

“Riddle, don’t you think this is too much? Grindelwald is a dangerous wizard.” Celeste’s voice broke through the silence. Lilia gasped inaudibly and brought a hand to her mouth to cover any sound that might come out. 

“Are you backing away now, Meadows? After you had no problem doing what you did to that Hufflepuff?”

What had Celeste done? Lilia felt like she was going to throw up. Celeste was the sweet girl who had been braiding her hair regularly. This couldn’t be true.

“I only did that to prove my loyalty to you!” Lilia could see the frown on Celeste’s beautiful face.

“You still did it, didn’t you? For all of you here, your parents want you to be in my company. And why wouldn’t they? I created spells that no one ever thought of.”

Shock and fear coursed through Lilia’s veins. How had she gotten carried away in the illusions? This was still a young Voldemort, and they were probably the Knights of Walpurgis. She had hidden herself in the false reality that they were her friends, but they were not. A small part of her was impressed about his abilities at such a young age but she did not ponder over that for too long.

“Your families all believe in pureblood supremacy, and if you wish to rise to power, you have to gain the support of the most powerful people around you. All powerful people share Grindelwald’s ideology. They want to get rid of muggles. We will build on that and work hard to bring ourselves to the forefront of the wizarding world.”

He didn’t explicitly state killing them off, and Lilia wondered if he wanted to do that.

“You are the one who came up with a symbol we could share, Meadows. You said you thought of it when you read a book. What’s your excuse for that?”

No one said a word.

“I promised you all this one thing when we decided to form our group: power. As much as you wish to believe you are better than your parents, you still want power.” Celeste didn’t say anything, leaving Lilia to her thoughts.

The ouroboros was the inspiration for the dark mark. Celeste, the person who she thought was a sweet girl, was its creator. She designed the mark that would sow terror and invite death in the upcoming decades.

“Riddle,” Evangeline eventually spoke up, “It’s just that… Lilia has certain nightmares and Celeste and I think it has to do with Grindelwald’s war in France. The girl is traumatised, she’s agitated even while taking naps.”

Lilia felt her throat clogging up when Evangeline shared her most intimate moments with the others.

“What do you mean?” This time, Icarus spoke up and Lilia felt a small part of herself withering away. This lively boy that liked to flirt with her was also a knight.

“She keeps mentioning a war where everyone will die. My point being that, Grindelwald is driven by the same pureblood ideologies and he’s terrorising people to complete his task.”

“Is Rousseau the reason why you are questioning what we are doing?” Riddle’s voice was stern, and Lilia knew that it meant he was going to torture someone. Voldemort didn’t like being questioned.

However, she was shocked as she listened to him continue. “We are not going to be barbaric like Grindelwald. We will find a way to impose ourselves without having to kill off thousands of people. It’s too much trouble and energy, and this can all be redirected towards things that actually matter. Our power can speak for itself. As for Rousseau, she made a good point about pureblood numbers dying out. Some food for thought for our next meeting.”

“What do you think of Rousseau?” Abraxas asked.

“My gut feeling keeps telling me that she’s hiding something. I find it all too convenient that she somehow showed up here, on Hogwarts’ ground to seek refuge from Grindelwald. Dumbledore has her back too, which is even stranger. Why is he supporting a Slytherin? He hates us.”

“I once saw her going into Dumbledore’s office too. She does that often, and I always see her because my Divination class finishes early,” Tiernan Nott added.

“Meadows and Selwyn, keep an eye on her.” “Yes.” 

When she heard shuffling, Lilia quickly ran back to her room, jumping in bed and quickly closing the drapes. As she expected, her roommates came back while talking among themselves.

“Tom is right, you know,” Celeste began. “I did it, I hurt that Hufflepuff. I tortured her. No matter how much I lie to myself, I want power. I want to be so powerful that the world will remember me.”

“I want to be powerful too, Salazar knows I have to prove myself to my parents. I just- I don’t know if it’s the right way to go about things.”

“He probably wants us to have the others bow to us, acknowledge our power.”

“Rule over them?”

“Yes. He hates death, you know.”

Lilia didn’t know how to proceed what she overheard. Voldemort hated death? No, Tom Riddle hated death.

“Shh, let’s talk about this later. We don’t want to wake Lilia up,” Evangeline whispered. They did care for her , Lilia thought bitterly.

She waited for some time after she heard them get into bed, their soft snores the indication that she could get out of bed. She needed to be by herself to think about what she had just heard although she did find it odd that they would meet in a public place like the Slytherin common room. She could sit in the corner of the common room, hidden by the numerous bookshelves and mull over the conversations. With that thought in mind, she tiptoed out of her room in her soft socks which muffled any sound. 

She walked down the hallway and headed to one corner of the common room behind the bookshelves. She visibly jumped and gasped when she came face to face with Tom, his back turned to her and a book in his hands.

“Come to look for answers, Rousseau?” He turned to look at her, eyes looking darker in the shadows created by the nearby fireplace.

“What are you talking about?” Lilia swallowed, wrapping herself with her hands when she realised how underdressed she was. She was wearing a long silky nightgown with sleeves that covered her arms with just her underwear underneath.

“I saw your reflection earlier.” Puzzled, she looked back at the spot where she had been standing and she almost cursed when she saw it. There had been a cupboard with a glass door right in front of her that probably revealed her hidden spot, and she hadn’t even realised it.

Such a mistake could have gotten her killed in her time .

“You smoke?” Lilia asked him, watching the very muggle cigarette between his lips. Tom inhaled and brought his hand to his mouth, pulling the cigarette away with an exhale. “Yes.” “Why?” “What do you mean, why?” “It’s harmful for your health.” “Well, I smoke when I need to think sometimes.”

Voldemort would have chosen to be buried alive before relying over such a muggle habit. Lilia quietly sat down on a couch next to him, bringing her legs up to her chest and hugging herself. She was cold despite the fire cackling in front of her.

“What did you mean when you said Celeste hurt someone?” It was a stupid question that she already had the answer to. “What do you think?” “Don’t you feel guilty about hurting other people for no reason?” “Having power means having the ability to hurt and not facing any consequences over it.”

Of course . Lilia scoffed, “So when you become the most powerful wizard in the world, will you just start killing off muggles?” “I wouldn’t use death to accomplish my agenda. I will need them around to show off our power.” “When you say our, are you referring to the six of you?” “You’re smarter than these dumb questions, Rousseau.”

She didn’t say anything, but pondered over what he told her. This sounded nothing like what Dumbledore had shown them about him or like how Voldemort had been in action. Riddle didn’t want to be the only one in power or in charge, he wanted his knights by his side. He didn’t want to kill, didn’t see the point in killing.

Yet, Voldemort had killed her with no hesitation. Another part of her also knew that in some situations, being alive could be more of a curse than dying.

Tom watched the young girl staring blankly at the fire in front of her, the sound of crackling wood filling up the common room. Her eyes looked glassy due to the flames and he remembered that Evangeline said she had been having nightmares, even while napping. What were the memories plaguing her mind?

“Rousseau.” She hummed and turned to look at him, watching his dark eyes on her face.

“Were you very involved in the war?” Her expression fell and he found himself wishing he had asked something else instead. “I understand if you don’t want to share.” Lilia had to come to term with the fact that Tom Riddle was not like Voldemort. Not at all. 

“I was,” she responded, not elaborating on purpose. He acknowledged her with a nod, but didn’t say anything. He looked solemn as he turned to focus on his book.

Lilia sighed and stared at the fireplace.

Chapter Text

Lilia was running away with the supplies in the satchel hanging to her bracelet, casting curses as death eaters kept trying to kill them. She watched the green light of the killing curses zooming past them with detachment that kept her mind at the forefront and her emotions concealed. 

“Avada Kedavra!” She heard Ron shout the curse at a death eater whose body fell by her feet with a thud. She didn’t stop to think about how Ron used an Unforgivable. This was war, and Voldemort did not play by the rules. As they approached the exit where they could apparate from, she felt time slowing as she watched Luna get hit by an orange light. She burst in flames almost immediately. 

Screaming, Lilia ducked as her friend’s body was flung all the way across the courtyard, the smell of burning flesh met her nostrils. “Fuck.” Fred or Ron swore behind her as they all ran away. She watched in horror as Luna’s charred body got up from the flames and spoke to Lilia, voice muting everything around them. “Why do you get to live a normal life when I had to die?”

Lilia woke up with a gasp, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t deserve to be alive, she should have died just like everyone she loved and cared about. What was she doing here? Small sobs wrecked her body and she shook violently. It took her some time for her vision to focus on the person in front of her. Tom held her by the shoulders, hands firmly gripping onto her and rooting her to reality. 

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe, Lilia. Just follow me: breathe in and breathe out.”

He took a deep breath and looked at her expectantly.

“I- Luna- She- “

“Lilia, focus on me.” She nodded and inhaled deeply, following Tom’s lead.

He guided her respiration for a few minutes, slowly helping her nerves calm down. When her head cleared up from the nightmare, she realised that she must have fallen asleep in the common room.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” She apologised in a small voice, staring at the boy who was kneeled in front of her. He wiped away stray tears on her cheeks, feeling her warmth underneath his touch.

At first, he had heard small whimpers, so low that he thought he was imagining things. But then, she had started crying and he assumed that it must have been a nightmare. She had been asleep for barely half an hour. It made him wonder if her nights were often plagued with nightmares like this.

“You are all right, Lilia,” he said softly, caressing her hair. Her heart ached as she leaned into his touch, the softness he displayed in that moment unfamiliar to her. She didn’t feel comfortable being touched but Tom’s touch was reassuring. How ironical, a future dark lord was comforting her .

She looked vulnerable, felt it in the way her eyes were practically begging him not to leave her alone.

“You should go to sleep,” he sighed, not stopping the gentle caresses. “What about you?” “I can’t fall asleep.” “Does that happen a lot?” “Yeah. It’s hard when my mind is always thinking about something.” “You need to rest, Tom.” “So do you. Let me escort you back to your bedroom.” His tone left no room for further arguments and she nodded. 

They walked back to her bedroom and stopped in front of the door. “Thank you,” she said softly. “You’re welcome. Sleep well, Rousseau.” “You too, Riddle.” None of them pointed out that they had made the shift back to using their last names.

Using each other’s first names had felt intimate and none of them knew how to interpret it. 

For the first time in a while, Lilia felt rested when she slept that night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia and Tom never talked about the moment they shared in the common room. She felt embarrassed about the fact that she cried in front of him. He comforted her, not knowing that his future self was the cause of all her nightmares.

She headed to Dumbledore’s office, not caring about hiding herself anymore since Tiernan Nott had clearly seen her here already.

“Professor Dumbledore?” She knocked on the door which was ajar.

“Come in.”

She smiled when she saw the familiar bag of lemon drops on his table, smile quickly falling when she noticed someone else in the office.

It was an auror.

Theseus Scamander.

Her eyes widened when she saw him, unable to believe that Newt Scamander’s brother was right in front of her eyes. “Come on, I can’t be all that impressive,” Theseus Scamander chuckled when Lilia stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Mr Scamander! Oh my god, it is such an honour to meet you! I have followed your work for a long time now and- Oh Merlin.” She was so excited that her words kept getting mixed up together.

“Don’t mention it please,” Theseus walked up to her, holding out a hand. Lilia shook his hand, squeezing tightly.

This was the man that she had spent hours reading up on. She read up on his strategies and his motivations while trying to figure out how to defeat Voldemort. Theseus Scamander was one of, if not the most accomplished auror the country had ever known. Meticulous, excellent and commanding.

“What’s your name?” He asked, smiling at her when she let go of his hand, realising with a slight flush that she had squeezed too tightly.

“Lilia Rousseau.”

“Rousseau, huh? Are you related to the Rosier family by any chance?”

“No, not at all!”

Her overzealous answer made him chuckle. “I’m joking, Lilia. Do you mind if I call you by your first name?”

“Not at all, Mr Scamander.”

“Theseus, please. You make me sound so old.”

“Sorry… Theseus.”

“Thank you, Lilia. Now, I will leave you to Albus over here. I wouldn’t want to disturb your meeting.”

“Not at all Mr- Theseus. It is an honour to meet you, again.”

“I hear Lilia is quite competent in her defence against the dark arts classes, Theseus.”

She smiled proudly at the auror after Dumbledore pointed out her skills, noting the way he smiled at her.

“Would you be interested in a career with the auror office, Lilia?”

She practically gaped at Theseus’ question. “I- I wouldn’t dare. I doubt I would be as skilled as aurors, and I do like magical creatures. So I’m not sure yet.”

“You should meet my brother, Newt then. In fact, how would you like to meet us for tea one of these days?”

“I would love that!”

“Enthusiastic. I like you. Well, keep an eye out for my owl. You should hear back from me sometime soon, but I do apologise if I end up taking a while. I am quite busy with Grindelwald.”

At this, he gave a pointed look to Dumbledore.

“It will all work out,” Lilia said before she could stop herself.

Theseus thought she was being positive, but Dumbledore knew better.

When Theseus Scamander left the office, Dumbledore asked her a question, “Does it end well with Grindelwald?” “It does, Professor. The greater good will win.”

The dull ache was back in her chest. For the greater good (She didn’t know it originated from Grindelwald himself) . That had been their slogan as she endured whatever Voldemort’s followers threw their way. As Antonin Dolohov forced himself on her. As Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her for hours. As she obtained scars on her body from fighting deadly curses and terrible hexes. It had only dawned upon her that they were ruined when Harry died. The slogan was useless after he was gone. 

“How has life been treating you here, Lilia?” The professor asked her as she took a seat in front of him. “Not bad, it’s strange that I adjusted quite quickly. But I… I have nightmares. Of the war.”

Albus looked at her, questions burning on the tip of his tongue, but he knew better. He couldn’t get in the course of time. “Was it a bad war?” “I lost friends and family in the war.” He couldn’t fathom the idea that she had been so affected by the war. She was barely an adult and yet, she seemed to have lived through horrors that he couldn’t imagine. He wanted to know who this dark wizard was, think about whether he knew him or not. 

Lilia didn’t want to talk about how depressing her time had been. She loved Dumbledore but knew that he still viewed people as pawns with feelings. Her own parents had barely been 18 when they had joined the Order of the Phoenix and had died at 21. Harry died at such a young age too, when he fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. They never got to celebrate their last birthday together during the year when they would have finished their education and graduated. She was the last remaining Potter and she wasn’t even there anymore.

Dumbledore was a strategist and he knew that death would always be on the table. Whatever was needed for the greater good .

“I won’t ask you more about this war. You look sick, Lilia. Have some tea.” He handed her a cup of steaming tea, which she took with a grateful smile. The sweet liquid soothed her from the inside and she sighed. “I don’t have good memories associated with the war.” “I know. I apologise. Why don’t you tell me more about your friends? Your roommates are nice to you, I assume?” “Oh yes, they are very kind to me. It’s nice, Celeste likes to do my hair every other day and Evangeline is the sweetest girl.” When they are not busy harming others .

She never mentioned that she had heard their group meeting and she didn’t act differently. They still took care of her in their own ways.

“Your friends all come from pureblood families,” he noted, “Their families are strict with that.” “I know.” “You are also friends with Tom Riddle.” “Friends might be far fetched, we just see each other every other day.”

Albus didn’t miss the slight blush on Lilia’s cheek and he sighed. “Be careful with them, Lilia. You don’t really know about their inclinations.” (Good old Albus and his prejudices)

She knew exactly who they were and what they would become. They started out the wizarding wars in Britain. She didn’t say anything as she nodded. 

“As for your situation, I don’t really know what to suggest. Research on time travelling is pretty limited, and the instances I have read up on go back to a few hours only,” Dumbledore sighed again. “I haven’t found anything in the library either,” she added and bit her lower lip.

Time turners were strictly illegal and if the Ministry knew about her, she would be in Azkaban, regardless of her circumstances. Dumbledore had taken care of all her documentation, making her job easier. “For now, I suggest you take some much needed rest and finish up your schooling here. Be careful with your friends too, Lilia.”

“I will, Professor.”

She left his office, feeling slightly down.

How were Ron and Hermione? Ginny, Padma, Draco?

Theo?

The last time they had seen each other, they had promised to stay alive until the end. She broke her end of the promise, dying at the hands of Voldemort himself. What sort of things was he being forced to do?

Draco had wanted to help her at the Malfoy manor, and he had intervened but it had only ended up in him getting dragged away while her mother reprimanded him about the consequences he would face. At the time, she thought her mother was angry that he would even try helping a Potter .

But later on, she remembered the frown on her face and the quiver of her lips, and she realised that the woman had been afraid herself. Afraid of what Voldemort would do to her son. Other than Bellatrix and Antonin, everyone in the manor that day was terrified of the events that were unfolding. 

Theo brought back bittersweet memories for Lilia. They had dated all the way until their sixth year until she had to leave to find the horcruxes. She had already known that things wouldn’t end well, especially with his father being a known death eater and her brother being the boy who lived.

By the time Harry and Theo’s father died, it was too late. Their relationship hadn’t been feasible anymore, there was too much to lose.

A sad smile ghosted her lips when she remembered how they had been silly together. Always messing around and sharing quiet nights in the Astronomy tower, pouring their heart out to each other. Talking about their childish dreams and fears. 

Lilia didn’t have dreams anymore. She waited for death to come take her and yet, she didn’t want to die at the same time. What was the point? She had lost the people who mattered to her. Her brother, her friends, her partner.

In 1943, she didn’t know anyone other than her friends who, ironically, were the reason why she would lose everything in the future.  

She headed to her DADA classes, smiling at someone who reminded her of her lost friend.

Caspian Lovegood. Luna’s grandfather. DADA was another Slytherin-Ravenclaw class and it reassured her that this combination had been around for a long time. That’s how she befriended Draco and Theo after all in their memorable first potions class together.

“Lilia!” Caspian exclaimed when she walked up to him, pulling a chair to sit down.

“How have you been?” She asked him, taking out her parchment paper and quill. “I have been trying to catch sight of some thestrals around Hogwarts. It’s so hard because I can’t see them.” “Oh. I could come with you and try to see if we can find them together?” “You would be able to see them, wouldn’t you? You lost people to the war.”

The overenthusiastic tone that he used made her flinch, his words slashing through her heart. 

“Yes-” “Lilia, no that came out wrong. Please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Caspian looked so guilty, having switched up from his previously excited font. “It’s fine.” She gave him a strained smile.

Tom was right in front of her, sitting next to Tiernan and Icarus, and they all turned to look at each other when they heard the conversation behind them. Icarus turned to glare at Caspian while Tom gave him a dark stare, making it obvious that he had said the wrong thing.

She gulped when her eyes met Tom’s, who turned back around when Professor Merrythought walked in.

Caspian Lovegood was a sweet man but he didn’t pick up on situational cues very well. No one in the classroom could understand her, they hadn’t seen death or lost their loved ones to murder.

Tom was most likely the only one, having grown up in a muggle orphanage in the middle of London. She shuddered again when she realised they had more similarities: they had seen death and they were both orphans. 

“Hello class! For today, we will be using a boggart. Now, who can tell me what is a boggart?” Lilia tuned out Professor Galatea Merrythought’s voice, wondering what her boggart would be. There had been so many horrors with the war and she wasn’t even sure if she only had one fear or multiple.

All too soon, they were lining up to test out the boggart. She felt nauseous, especially knowing that her friends were behind her since the lineup started from the back of the class. The students in front of her had different fears, ranging from butterflies to storms (One of them had a fear of quills, which she found strange). 

She stood in front of the cupboard with the boggart when it was her turn. Her hands trembled slightly while the professor opened the door. She watched warily to see what would come out. But nothing prepared her for what was on the ground: Harry who whispered a question. Why did you get to live?

She held out her wand and took a deep breath in. She cast the Riddikulus charm, watching her brother turn into a balloon and fly away. Stepping away to watch the others, she felt her stomach churning as guilt ate away at her again.

Why did she live? Why, why, why? 

Tom’s boggart had been Ms. Cole, but he was already expecting that. After countering it, he walked to where Lilia was, watching the latter getting paler. He had seen her boggart, a boy who somewhat looked like her questioning why she was still alive. It had been peculiar and she had been quick to turn it away but he knew better. Did she feel guilty about being alive after France?

“Rousseau.” His voice startled her and she flinched slightly. “I have to go.” She muttered, quickly opening the door and heading out, the professor too busy to notice. He sighed and debated whether he should follow her for a split second before rushing after her. 

“Rousseau!” She stopped and turned back to look at Tom, hyperventilating. “I- can’t breathe,” she whispered, taking in painful breaths of air.

“Deep breaths. In and out.” He guided her, helping her regulate her breathing. When she calmed down, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes while her forehead rested against the cool stones. “You can ask for an exemption if it would help,” Tom suggested, leaning sideways against the wall. “No, it’s not that bad,” she replied, indignation flaring in her chest. Did he think her weak like that? “You really suck at taking care of yourself.” “What do you want me to do?” She burst out, not intending to shout at him.

One glance at Tom and she saw the way his eyes darkened. With his jaw clenching and a deep furrow, he approached her.

She backed away, turning away from the wall and ending up with her back against the cool bricks while apologising in a small voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She looked down at her shoes when he stopped right in front of her.

“You need to learn your own boundaries. You’re not weak for having flashbacks, you were affected by a dangerous war.” Tom Riddle kept surprising her. She had expected him to burst out at her, ask her how she dared speak to him in that tone. Instead, he was insightful and sympathetic.

The realisation softened her up and she sighed. “I keep trying to forget about everything, but it’s so difficult.”

His eyes lit up at the realisation that she was opening up to him but his heart ached when he took in how hurt she looked. “Don’t make yourself forget, Lilia. It will only make things worse for you in the long run.” It was sane advice, he was right.

“You sound wise, Tom.” She remarked with a small smile. “Deflecting again?” “I’m not comfortable talking about it.” “Of course. Just don’t be so harsh on yourself.”

Lilia slowly felt herself warming up to Tom, reassured by the fact that he wasn’t like Voldemort.

Yet . 

Chapter Text

“You seriously need practice with chess,” Tom remarked smugly while Lilia scowled at the board, trying to figure out her next move.

She wasn’t a strategist, that was Ron’s role. “This is my first time playing after you dumped all the rules on me,” she grumbled. “Aw, is it too hard for you? Maybe you should just stick to writing in your diary or whatever it is you do.” His smirk was devilish and she was itching to suffocate him with the cushions on the couch.

He was one to speak when he turned a stupid diary into a horcrux!

“That’s not fair, you’re a cheater, Riddle.” “No, I just choose my opponent smartly.” “Is that why you decided to play with me?” She gaped, looking at her other friends who were trying so hard to hide their smiles. 

“You wanted to play.” “You are insufferable.”

She obviously lost the game and mumbled to herself on the couch, arms crossed. “It’s okay sweetheart, you would never lose a game with me,” Icarus casually commented, plopping down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “No thank you.” Lilia shrugged her shoulders slightly, uncomfortable with how touchy he was. Icarus Lestrange was flirty and she didn’t know how to take his advances.

“She’s not interested, Lestrange.” Tiernan Nott chuckled.

Lilia watched as Abraxas played with Tom, wondering if the red on his cheeks were a result of the flames in the room. Sometimes, she caught Abraxas staring at the dark-haired boy with lingering looks. She also noticed that in the mornings, Abraxas always chose an apple and left it on Tom’s plate. Malfoy was not caring towards anyone like that, and she thought that he must really value their friendship.

It was sweet. 

Her friendship with Tom had reached a strange point. He had seen her in a few vulnerable moments, helped her and never mentioned it again. She sat next to him in many of her classes and she had gotten used to his scent. When she worked on her homework, her mind strayed to how Tom smelled. Why did he have to smell so good? It made it harder for her to focus.

Ever since her small meltdown after DADA, she had been doing alright. The nightmares seemed to have decreased and the company of her friends made everything better.

“You should tone it down, darling.”

The voice of Tiernan snapped her out of her thoughts and she raised a questioning eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been drooling over Riddle.”

“No, I have not!”

“I can practically see the hearts in your eyes when you look at him.”

“For Riddle? Never. Don’t insult me like that again.”

A slight blush coloured her cheeks at the notion of having been caught staring at him.

“It’s okay, Lilia. He is very good-looking,” Evangeline giggled from her position, kneeled by the couch.

“Not at all!”

“Stop lying to yourself.”

Tiernan and Evangeline teased her relentlessly about her “crush” on Tom. She didn’t like him, even though she had to admit that he was good-looking. This was a future dark lord, why would she like him? (He was nothing like the dark lord she knew but she wouldn’t reiterate that at this point in time.)

Evangeline and Celeste started teasing her about Tom, and she couldn’t explain why she felt flustered every time.

Celeste had started trying out hairstyles that Tom would find pretty and Lilia had told her that she didn’t want that.

However, she felt a feeling of victory swelling in her chest when Tom did in fact compliment her hair. It was in a half-up half-down hairstyle with a white scrunchie. “Your hair looks nice, Lilia.” He had even used her first name and she stumbled on her words. “T-Thanks.”

Of course, he had the most insufferable smirk on his face when she stuttered.

“I told you so,” Celeste had whispered in her ear with a small giggle.

Lilia had rolled her eyes, but her days had been going better. She felt like she could heal. Embrace her past and move on, just like Tom had said. Her friends made everything better, even reducing the amount of guilt she felt about all those who passed away. Being away from a morose environment like the one during the battle had been good for her well-being, and she felt like she could properly grieve her loved ones. It helped out a lot, and she felt healthier.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When the weather got colder around mid-November, Lilia went to the forbidden forest with Caspian.

The latter wanted to find a thestral and Lilia was hoping she could see one herself. It hadn’t taken her a long time to see the first one while they hid behind a large tree. They hadn’t gone in too deep and they were relatively safe from whatever creature could be lurking within the trees.

It was around dinner time, and they both held their robes close to their body to keep warm. 

“There’s a thestral right there,” Lilia said, a chill running down the spine when she saw the skeletal appearance of the creature.

Caspian heard the leaves crunching as it walked about, looking for food on the ground. “I wish I could see them,” he whispered, watching the empty scenery in front of him.

“I don’t think you’d like that. They look quite scary.” “Can you describe the one in front of us for me?” “Sure. It has a skeletal appearance, it looks very similar to a horse and has wings. It has a sharp snout, and its eyes are snake-like. Not a nice picture.” 

With Caspian by her side, Lilia explored some of the harmless creatures in the Forbidden Forest.

She was fascinated by magical animals, an interest largely fostered by Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them . She had discovered the burrow of a niffler and had attracted its attention by waving a small coin that she had. The animal took a liking for her as she brought it food and coins every time.

Unfortunately, Caspian and Lilia had to keep their little expeditions well hidden because they went out in the forest, unsupervised. If caught, they could get detention and lose house points.

That also meant that none of her friends knew what she was up to and she liked the idea of having found something else other than the Slytherins that made her happy.

She had secretly been hoping that Caspian Lovegood would be similar to Luna, but she had been wrong. Other than the very light hair and blue eyes, Caspian and Luna did not share many similarities. He was not as eccentric and creative as Luna. His forte was his curiosity, which could get in the way of things. Like when he sounded excited that Lilia could see thestrals because she had lost people she loved. He liked rule-breaking, but tried his best to fit in. He was raised as the son of a proper pureblood family and Lilia wondered if Xenophilius Lovegood resented that with his father.

Or would resent his father, he wasn’t born yet. 

Gradually, Lilia noticed that she didn’t think of her past as much and she felt guilty about that.

How had it been that easy? Other than the tremors that she concealed with a calming draught and her scars, there was no other indication of the horrors that she had lived through. While the frequency of her nightmares had gone down, they were more intense. She often re-lived pivotal moments from her time and often, she would cry herself back to sleep. She was grieving her previous life, including the good and the bad, but it never got easy. She had to accept that it would never be easy because everything had been so unfair and unjust.

Lilia, Harry, and their friends did not deserve to have the weight of the world on their shoulders .

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The first time she had gone to the Ravenclaw dormitory was to meet Caspian to go over some material for their Care of Magical Creatures class.

Unsurprisingly, it was not a class that was popular with Slytherins, including her friends, but that made things easier for her. She hadn’t realised that she had felt compelled to maintain a certain image in front of them, especially since they knew that she struggled with the aftermath of the “war with Grindelwald”. They couldn’t know too much: she liked them a lot but they were still the Knights of Walpurgis.

The small voice at the back of her head always reminded her of the fact whenever she found herself feeling comfortable in their presence. 

“Who is this beautiful lady?” Lilia turned to the voice she heard and she almost stopped breathing.

A tall and lanky red-haired boy was smiling at her, dimples popping on his cheeks.

“She’s Lilia, the one I told you about. We explore the forbidden forest together.” She gaped at Caspian. “You told others that we do that?” “Lady, we are Ravenclaws, not Slytherins.”

Lilia frowned at the red-haired boy, who looked awfully like a Weasley. “Slytherins are not bad.” “You are the only nice Slytherin that I know.” “Do you have Slytherin friends?” “Ouch. Touché.”

Lilia shook her head at the situation. She had never thought that she would be defending Slytherins, but then she was one herself and it disturbed her identity when people said things like that about her current house.

“Septimus Weasley.” The red-haired guy handed out his hand for her to hold, which she shook. Ron’s grandfather.

Lilia had never thought that he would have been a Ravenclaw. She just assumed that they had all always been Gryffindors, like Arthur and Molly.

“I’m Lilia Rousseau,” she introduced herself, “You remind me a lot of one of my friends.” “More red-haired wizards? I thought my family was the only one with those,” Septimus chuckled. “That must be breaking news to you.” She smiled at him. 

Being back in the Ravenclaw common room swept her with a wave of nostalgia.

She had missed the natural lighting that came with the tower being the highest one in Hogwarts, along with the Astronomy tower. She took in the comforting and familiar environment. There were different shades of blue and bronze all over the place. The ceiling was also enchanted to resemble a bright, starry night and the sight made her smile.

She had spent many nights with Theo in this same common room trying to count the number of stars in the sky. 

“This must be better than being in the dungeons, huh?” “You sound smug, Weasley. But you are right, I love natural light.” “Call me Septimus, please. Caspian has told us a lot about you and how you love magical creatures.” “Newt Scamander is one of my idols.” “Would you fancy being in Hufflepuff?” “I actually would not mind that, you know.” “A Slytherin who does not look down on Hufflepuffs? You are a walking miracle, Lilia.” “It’s unnecessarily mean towards Hufflepuffs. They are very nice.” “Well, you might be the only Slytherin who thinks so.” “I have to change that then.”

“Lilia for head girl!”

“Nope!” 

It was easy for Lilia to talk to Septimus, and she felt like she had connected with him more easily than Caspian. The latter was a tad bit more introverted while Septimus was a complete extrovert, which worked out well for Lilia because she was also more introverted.

She spent the next days chatting with Septimus and Caspian, occasionally joined by Katarina McMillan, who was Caspian’s girlfriend. They discussed mundane things like their favourite foods, colours, their thoughts on the professors at school, among other random subjects.

Lilia realised that she had lost touch with the mundane aspects of her life, especially after going through the war. She didn’t have an answer anymore.

Favourite colour? It used to be pink, but suddenly everything was grey after she emerged from the war. Favourite food? Anything that could sustain her daily life. She hadn’t realised just how much the war had taken from her and she wasn’t sure if she would ever find these pieces of herself again.  

One Tuesday evening, she saw herself out and as she was going down the stairs, she came face to face with a blonde girl wearing Hufflepuff colours.

Lilia was about to move out of the way and get going, but the girl started talking to her.

“Do you think your friends are nice?” “What do you mean?” Lilia asked, puzzled. “You sound like a nice girl. You are definitely friendlier than any of your friends, that’s for sure.” “Pardon me, but who are you?” “My name’s Penelope Johnson. A mudblood as your friends would call me.”

Lilia flinched when she heard that term, the image of Hermione’s scar coming to her mind.

“That’s all you need to get scared?” She asked, a mocking and disbelieving smile on her face. “Do you know what your pureblood friends did to me? Your dear Celeste Meadows?”

Lilia couldn’t find her voice so she shook her head no. She did, however, have an inkling of where this was going. 

“Follow me.”

Chapter Text

It was dark outside when Lilia followed Penelope all the way up to the Astronomy Tower. This was where she spent so many nights just talking to Theo, but instead of feeling reassured by the memory, she was dreading the words of the blonde girl.

Your pureblood friends. Your dear Celeste Meadows . The tone was enough to make Lilia want to throw up her stomach’s content. 

“Lilia, I heard that you came to Hogwarts to escape Grindelwald’s war in France.” Penelope began, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms.

Lilia stood awkwardly in front of her and wrapped her arms around herself too. “Yes. I had to seek refuge outside of France.” She confirmed the lie smoothly.

“So, I assume you don’t exactly agree with what Grindelwald is doing.”

“I would never.”

“You lost people in the war too.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow at the statement and Penelope was prompt to clarify how she knew that. “I share some classes with Weasley. He told me about you.”

“Oh.” She was not particularly fond of the way information about her was just spreading around but there was not much that she could do now. 

“You do know about your friends’ stance on the matter, right?” Lilia nodded, feeling some shame creeping up her body. “I don’t know how you can do it when you were personally victimised by the war.”

“We are in the same house. And they are kind to me.” The last sentence had a defensive tone that Lilia couldn’t help.

“Right, to you, they are kind. To me? Not so much.” Penelope scoffed. “Are you even pureblood?”

“No, I’m a half-blood.”

“It is surprising that they put up with you. They are all purebloods. Malfoy. Nott. Lestrange. Meadows. Selwyn. Riddle.” Riddle was not pureblood but if he was always seen with the others, it made sense that the school also believed he was one. 

“I don’t really know why they put up with me. They didn’t really ask me about that.” Lilia explained, dread filling her stomach.

“Lucky you. Well, this is my advice as someone who has not been as lucky as you because of how I was born. Because of something I could not even control.”

Lilia gulped and nodded for Penelope to continue, silently praying that it was nothing too serious. “They have found a way to always remind me of my low status as a mudblood.” Penelope informed the black haired girl solemnly.

The blonde girl shrugged off her robe and unbuttoned her blazer and blouse. Lilia watched with halted breaths as she turned around and her hand flew to her mouth in shock.

On her back, the word ‘MUDBLOOD’ had been carved and the injury looked so raw and tender.

“Celeste cursed it. It is meant to keep hurting for every second that I am alive.” She did not elaborate but Lilia knew what that meant. Penelope Johnson was meant to live with it until she could not take it anymore because of her blood status.

“Since when?” Lilia asked quietly.

“Since April.”

It was such a long time and Lilia could not even begin to fathom how she was able to put up with this pain for so long.

Lilia swallowed back sobs and she took out her wand.

“Let me help you with that.” She whispered and ran a diagnostic charm across the cursed mark. She felt a weak dark source lodged inside Penelope’s spine. “Penelope, this might hurt.” The blonde girl grit her teeth and nodded. Lilia moved her wand in circular motions for five minutes until she was fairly confident that she had the source wrapped properly before she began to pull. A shrill scream left Penelope’s mouth before she clenched her teeth together to endure the acute pain in her back.

Lilia’s movements were precise despite the pit in her stomach. She eventually pulled out the source and destroyed it before it decided to latch onto her once out of Penelope’s body. 

Penelope slumped forward against the cool wall, tears streaming down her face. Lilia watched as she fell to her knees, the mark on her back now looking like an old faded scar. The girl turned to look back at her, eyes glassy and lips quivering.

“How.. How did you..?”

“I dealt with something similar before.” The words engraved on her palm stung.

“I am sorry for everything they did to you.” Lilia whispered, voice hoarse.

“Thank you, Lilia. That was… You didn’t have to.”

“How could I let you be, knowing that you were always in pain because of my friends?”

“They don’t deserve you.” Penelope took a deep breath. “Be careful, Lilia.”

“I will.”

Lilia turned away to walk out of the tower, hand going up to wipe the tears that had already started to fall down her cheeks.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia didn’t care when she got questioning looks from the other Slytherins as she stormed into the boys’ dormitory, going to find Riddle. The root cause of everything that went wrong in her time. It had already started. She had been a fool for ever believing that they were her friends. They probably did not feel any remorse about what they had done to Penelope. Their descendants certainly did not feel any remorse when they destroyed Hogwarts and attacked hundreds of young wizards, killing many of them, including people she loved.

As soon as she came across the door that was ajar, she slammed it open, startling the occupants inside the room.

She felt hurt when she saw that everyone was in the room that Tom, Abraxas and Tiernan shared. Evangeline, Celeste, and Icarus were there, without her . Everyone looked alarmed as she walked in with calculated steps, eyes colder than they ever remembered.

“Lilia, what are you-” Celeste began to ask and Lilia clenched her teeth as she stared at her roommate. “Penelope Johnson.” She began in an icy voice. “What did you do to her?”

Celeste’s eyes widened just like the others. Even after what she had done to help Penelope, Lilia was praying that the brunette would deny it.

“I.. I didn’t mean to-” Celeste began to lie and Lilia sent a curse her way. There was a brief spark as it left the wand which Lilia found strange but she attributed it to the anger she felt.

Celeste had the reflexes to dodge just in time because the curse burned the wall behind her.

“What are you doing?” Icarus asked, alarmed as he took out his own wand.

“I will ask you this again, Meadows. What did you do to her?” The brunette stared at her, wide-eyed on the ground and eyes watering. “I cursed her.”

Lilia let out a sharp breath. “What gave you the right?” She asked quietly and she was about to point her wand at her again but she noticed a flash of purple before she drew up a shield. 

“What the fuck are you doing to her, Lilia?” Icarus asked, face clearly red from anger and disbelief.

“Why don’t you all tell me what the fuck you did to that girl?” Lilia seethed, glaring at the six of them.

Everyone else in the room had their wands drawn, watching her like she was crazy. This should have been the least of her concerns but it hurt.

“Celeste cursed her for being a mudblood.” Abraxas intervened in a calmer voice and Lilia glared at him. “With what right?”

“For being a lowly being who serves no purpose in the magical world.” He looked so calm about it that Lilia was in shock for a second. “And you serve a purpose in the magical world? What have you done to be useful? Please enlighten me, you fucking bigot.” 

“Lilia, you need to calm down-”

“I am not fucking calming down, Selwyn! How could you do this to an innocent person?” She had to force herself to calm down. How could everything still be so unfair? How had she switched timelines to be stuck in the same cycle?

“We- We tried to think of something to undo it.” Evangeline defended pathetically.

“And you could not come up with anything? Even though you all knew that she had to be in pain at every moment?” Her voice broke slightly towards the end but she did not cry. “You were able to curse her but you couldn’t even bother with a cure?”

Her question hung heavily in the air.

“We tried to look into a cure, but it was pretty dark magic.” Tom began.

Lilia’s eyes narrowed at his voice. “You,” she turned to Tom whose face changed to Voldemort’s, “are the one who instigated everything.”

“I told you power is everything-”

She never gave him the time to finish before hitting him with a hex. Tom was quick to draw up a shield, deflecting her attack. She vaguely registered shouts from the others.

“Who gave you the right to decide who is inferior or superior?” She scoffed, sending another hex his way.

The room lit up with the different spells that he kept deflecting.

“You promised them power. You will ruin this world one day, you will ruin everything,” Lilia seethed, casting two spells at once and one of them cut Tom in the arm.

He grunted in pain, but glared at Lilia. “You need to calm down-”

“Don’t ask me to calm down!” She sent another array of spells, some of them cutting him in his shoulder and his thighs. She could barely register the panicked shouts of her friends as she yelled out “Sectumsempra !” Lilia’s eyes widened slightly in surprise when the curse came out darker than she ever remembered but it was too late.

Tom fell to the ground when the curse hit him, his shield not holding up against such dark magic. A deep gash ran across his chest and he started bleeding heavily, groaning in pain.

Lilia stared at him, watching him struggle to breathe. In a matter of seconds, he started to cough out blood, knowing that she had hit major spots on his body.

She could just let him die. Kill him off. Change history and save the lives of thousands of people. The Knights wouldn’t have anyone to turn to with him gone; they wouldn’t become death eaters. There would be no dark lord after Grindelwald. She should let him die. It would not even matter if she was sent to Azkaban for murdering him.

“Tom!” It was Abraxas and Tiernan who shouted as they rushed for the prefect. 

When she heard his gasp of pain as he struggled to breathe and coughed out blood, she felt herself wavering. He had not really known how to deflect her spells properly, hadn’t bothered using any attack spells on his own. She realised, with horror, that Tom Riddle was probably not as well versed in dark magic as she had been due to the war.

He was also in pain, something that she had never seen Voldemort in. As he writhed on the floor in pain and his breaths got shallower, she only saw a young boy who had been severely hurt because of her . 

She couldn’t kill him. It wasn’t fair to do that when he hadn’t even done anything yet. He was barely a grown-up.

They were all too young too .

She detached herself from her emotions, focusing instead on curing the boy as she ran up to him and kneeled down. Abraxas and Tiernan pointed their wands at her, their hands bloody from trying to close the injury. She ignored them. He was gasping, blood mixing with his breaths and making him choke. “Vulnera sanentur ,” she whispered over and over again until all the wounds across his body had been healed. She wiped away the residual blood as he closed his eyes in relief, taking in deep breaths. He was so young and she had almost killed him. 

Getting up shakily, she ran out of the room, trying her best to ignore the panicked cries of her friends as they rushed to Tom.

It hurt when she realised that no one came after her. She wasn’t their friend and she had almost killed Riddle. They didn’t care for her the way her friends had done. They had known her for barely any time while they had all been friends for six years now. They were mere acquaintances who happened to see each other everyday.

She ran down to Dumbledore’s office, barging inside without knocking.

The older man was shocked when he took in her state of disarray. “Lilia-”

“I almost killed him.”

“Who?”

“Tom Riddle. I almost killed him. For a moment, I thought I could kill him and save everyone in the future. Save thousands of muggles and muggleborns. My friends, my family, everyone. I almost took his life,” she cried out, despair evident in her voice.

Dumbledore processed her words: Tom Riddle was the dark lord who would create a second war in the future. “Lilia, calm down, please.”

His stern but familiar tone made her pause as she took in deep breaths, just the way Tom had shown her.

“Now,” Albus led her to a chair and made her sit down. “What happened?”

“I almost killed Tom, Professor. I healed him. But it was pretty dark magic. I- I understand if that would get me expelled.” 

Dumbledore’s first reaction was to reprimand her use of dark magic but he held back. He didn’t know the state of the world in the future. It must have been dire if someone as young as her had resorted to dark magic. “I will personally check on him, is that fine, Lilia?”

“Please, Professor. Can you check on him and let me know how he is? I hurt him a lot.”

He sighed when he took in the miserable look on the young girl’s face. She looked so much older when she was tense. “I will check on him and come back here. Have some tea until you feel better.” 

She sipped on the tea, the hot liquid not comforting her at all while anxiously waiting for Dumbledore to come back.

It was one of the worst hours of her life, wondering what was going on, whether Tom was fine. When he came back to the office, she jumped out of her seat while waiting for the professor to say something. “He is fine, you healed most of the deep gashes. He is in the infirmary for now. I talked to Horace and he has been pretty lenient towards you, Lilia. No one saw you use dark magic other than your friends who did not say anything about that. It was just a dual that got out of control.”

She let out a big sigh of relief and thanked him profusely. 

She then headed to the library, sitting down at the restricted section because she knew students usually avoided that part. She rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes. It was late in the night when she finally decided to look up and she felt the need to check up on Tom.

What was he thinking of her? What were they all thinking of her?

A sudden sense of despair engulfed her when she thought of the possibility that they wouldn’t even want to be friends with her anymore. 

They had all become such an integral part of her life. They made her happy.

She felt light when they joked around every morning for breakfast, hung out together in the common room at night and chatted, worked together on their homework. Celeste always tried something new with her hair and Evangeline was such a caring woman. Abraxas was aloof but engaged in conversation with her. Tiernan and Icarus were both very lighthearted individuals, and they joked with her often. Tom had helped her out when she had been panicking and they usually worked together in the library. 

They had cursed Penelope and yet, she was so selfish that she did not seem to mind that at all in that moment.

She had been able to undo the curse, hadn’t she?

Lilia realised that her anger had single handedly destroyed the safe haven that she had found in her friends and it terrified her.

Chapter Text

If Tom thought he knew what pain was like from the numerous beatings he took at the hand of Mrs Cole from the orphanage, he was wrong. This was so much worse than what he had ever been exposed to. He could not breathe and he tasted copper in his mouth every time he tried to take in a breath.

He hated being weak like this and he wanted to get up. 

Abraxas and Tiernan were clearly panicking. Tom could see their mouths moving and he vaguely registered Evangeline, Icarus, and Celeste falling to their knees by his side.

However, the rush of blood in his ear prevented him from focusing on anything. The wound was tender and throbbing in pain. He could barely make any sounds without coughing out blood.

“Fuck, his eyes are losing focus!” Abraxas shouted and he tried to press down on the prefect’s wound. It was nowhere close to being as severe as it had been when Lilia had first hit him, but it still bled. Tom groaned when Malfoy applied pressure on the injury. His body jerked as he tried to push him off but he could not control his limbs properly. He felt light-headed and he was on the verge of passing out.

“We have to get him to the infirmary. Now!” Celeste screamed.

Abraxas began to lift Tom with Tiernan on the other side of the prefect but they all stopped when they noticed that the entrance to the room was crowded. 

Dumbledore’s expression was alarmed as he hurried in, followed by Madame Brightward. “Greta, Riddle needs to be brought to the infirmary.” His composed yet stern voice pulled Tom out of his daze and his head lolled to the side. His vision was blurry and he briefly registered a smaller, definitely female figure crouching down next to him.

Greta Brightward ran a quick diagnostic charm and she hoisted him against her own body. Tom Riddle was taller than average and Brightward struggled to hold him up but she glared at anyone who tried to intervene. 

“I am holding him like this because you lot might press down on his numerous injuries.” She seethed, warning Abraxas off with a glare. She cast a spell and Tom suddenly felt like he weighed nothing as he was led out of bedroom.

The common room and corridors were surprisingly empty but that could have been a trick of his eyes. “Riddle, don’t close your eyes, no matter what. Try to stay up.” Her words pulled him out of his daze and he grunted to the best of his ability.

When they finally made it to the infirmary, she laid him down on a bed and the last words he heard were something about how it was stupid that Hogwarts had anti-apparition wards.

His mind was a blur.

He was with the girl who had evoked feelings he had never felt before. Together, they were sitting on her bed, the blue curtains closed to give them some privacy. He sat up against her headboard, long limbs awkwardly curled while she was talking about the stars, specifically the North Star and how it was important for muggle navigation by sailors. 

Tom’s heart was warm and he watched her carefully. Her long black hair had been braided and her thick rimmed glasses rested loosely on the bridge of her nose. She had freckles and a few acne scars, but she was so simple, so pretty. She smiled and talked to him, and his own smile dropped slightly when he noticed the fading bruise under her left ear, along her jawline.

He could never really protect Myrtle Warren, never openly. 

Tom reached out to caress her skin but in the blink of an eye, her braids turned into loose black curls. Her glasses disappeared and as he touched her jaw, Tom shuddered lightly when he felt the heat of her skin.

Lilia was smiling and talking to him, wearing the blue Ravenclaw uniform. She had a wide grin and he saw her crooked tooth while she elaborated on the North Star. “Tom!” Her voice was soft and light. He felt himself softening while looking at her. 

Lilia’s voice slowly faded away into a dull hum. As he paid more attention, his eyes fluttered open and he heard the voices of his friends loud and clear.

“She tried to fucking kill him!”

“Malfoy, mind your language, please.”

“Rousseau tried to kill our friend and you are worried about my language?”

There were a few moments of silence and Tom groaned as he tried to look around. 

The small sound alerted everyone.

“Tom!” Tiernan exclaimed and he leaned in.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” Abraxas asked, face pale with worry.

“Is he okay, Madame Brightward?” Icarus asked the healer.

“He should be.” The elderly lady sighed and ran a quick diagnostic charm on him.

Tom was surrounded by all his friends who all sported a look of concern. “How are you feeling, Riddle?” The healer asked him. “Terrible.” He croaked and tried to adjust himself but gave up when he felt a sharp pain across his chest. “At least you can speak.” She tutted. “You will need complete bed rest for a few days. The biggest gash was healed and the rest were minor injuries. But your body still needs to recover.” She looked around for something and muttered a small “I’ll be back” before wandering deeper into the infirmary.

“Feeling alright, Tom?” Dumbledore asked, his voice softer than usual.

Tom nodded, feeling on edge. “How did you know..” Tom began but coughed slightly. Celeste handed him a glass of water which he immediately accepted.

Dumbledore seemed to hesitate for a moment before replying. “Rousseau came to me.”

The Slytherins all glanced at each other. “Can anyone tell me what happened exactly?” The Transfiguration professor asked them.

“Well.. We kind of dualled her.” Evangeline stated with a small wince.

“And?”

“And things just got out of hand.” Dumbledore waited for them to tell him more about it but they did not. “Very well. Thankfully, things are not as dire as they could have been.” Dumbledore sighed. “Rest up, Tom.”

“I will, Professor.”

Albus walked out of the infirmary with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Tom, are you okay?” Abraxas asked with a sigh, staring down at the prefect.

“I feel like shit.” He groaned.

“Damn, if you used the word shit despite being such a stuck up prefect, I’m guessing it’s really bad.” Tiernan quipped and that small comment was enough to make everyone chuckle lightly.

“I am a changed man now.” Tom added with a smirk before looking down at his bandaged chest and wincing. 

“She hurt you pretty severely.” Icarus commented, his face mirroring Tom’s. The latter didn’t say anything but focused on checking for his injured areas. They were mostly on his chest and breathing was not as painful anymore. “Lilia went to Dumbledore about this.” Tom mused quietly.

“Don’t bother with her.” Abraxas added sourly. “She almost killed you.”

“It was our fault, you know. My fault.” Celeste spoke up in a small, remorseful voice.

“What does she want us to do, Meadows?” Abraxas asked, exasperated. “We couldn’t find a counter curse.”

“It wasn’t fair, Malfoy. Johnson was innocent.” 

“Abraxas.” Tom called out, voice gruff. The blonde boy met the eyes of his roommate, trying to calm down. Was it really their fault if they could not find a counter curse for the mudblood? Malfoy did not understand why it mattered, especially when they tried hard to find one.

“Tom, don’t worry about this-”

“We should have done better, we should not have let her go with a curse as bad as that on her back.” The prefect sighed, groaning as his chest hurt while speaking.

“What do you mean? Why?”

“She could have killed herself to put an end to it.”

“Because she’s weak and she cannot handle it, she’s a mudblood.” Abraxas’ words were icy. 

Tom had to take a deep breath to calm himself down. He used to think that fear was a good way of making a statement and controlling people. He was not sure why Lilia’s words were constantly replaying in his mind. He remembered the way her voice broke when she asked how they were able to leave Johnson in pain. He knew she had been greatly affected by a war where she had been innocent and he knew about how much pain she was in. Lilia barely let him in but he caught glimpses of it. The first time she woke up from a nightmare in tears while they were both in the common room had left him feeling helpless. He could only help her through it; he could not change the events that had already happened. 

“She’s not weak because she’s a mudblood.” Evangeline snapped at Abraxas. “I would love to see how you would fare with it.” She drew out her wand threateningly.

“Seriously, Selwyn?” Abraxas seethed and took out his own wand.

“Stop it you two!” Celeste interrupted.

“Why should I? I want to see how he lives with that curse.”

“I want to see you try.”

“Calm down.” Tom’s voice, despite its gruffness, drew their attention and they lowered their wands, a silent testament to their trust in him.

“Do you really want to dual with such dark magic right here in the infirmary?” He asked, unable to hold back a small groan of pain.

“You should really focus on resting, Tom.” Abraxas’ voice had softened slightly.

“Yeah, we should probably not do this now.” Tiernan sighed and gestured between Abraxas and Evangeline. Icarus had a small smirk on his face. “I would love to see Eva-”

“Here it is, Riddle!” The healer walked back and they all immediately turned to look at her. She had a vial of a pink liquid in her hand and she swirled the liquid for a few seconds. “This will help with your recovery, especially with the biggest injury. You are too skinny for your own good, so hopefully this should quicken the process and make it easier.” Tom bit back a groan of frustration when she called him skinny. “Drink up.” She made him drink the pink liquid and he winced at the bitterness. She helped him drink some water too and grinned. “You’ll be up and running in no time. You should rest now.”

She turned to the others. “I suggest you let him catch up on sleep so he can heal. It is past curfew anyways.” She narrowed her eyes at them.

“We’ll see you later, mate.” Tiernan shrugged and lightly tapped Tom’s shoulder.

As Abraxas was leaving, Tom quickly whispered, “Look into the spell Lilia used.” Malfoy nodded and left.

His friends all left with a chorus of goodbyes and take cares before Riddle was left alone with his thoughts.

He fell asleep with the image of Lilia’s teary deep brown eyes and questions about why she had such an effect on him.

Chapter Text

Lilia stayed in the library, all her insecurities at the forefront of her mind.

She wasn’t good enough to have friends, especially not after she hurt the ones that she had just made in this timeline. She wished she had better control of herself instead of losing any rational thought whenever something triggered her memories of the war, of everything that she lost throughout the years. She had been a fool for even thinking that she had found some sense of normalcy.

How could she ever recover from a war that had shattered her very essence?

By the time she left the library, it was well past curfew. She headed to the infirmary, quietly opening the door so as not to alert anyone. She peeped inside and there were no healers.

Shutting the door behind her, she walked down the array of beds while a sick feeling settled in her stomach. The last time she had been in the infirmary had been when they were trying to keep track of the number of casualties from the battle. Remus Lupin had been one of them and she hadn’t known how to process the loss of her brother and someone she saw as a father, in the same day. Ironically, as she walked to the bed where Lupin had been laying, she found Tom fast asleep. 

Her breath hitched in her throat while she walked towards him, eyes taking in the bandages that covered his upper body. His shirt was unbuttoned and she saw the scar that she made earlier.

It must have hurt a lot, she thought, eyes tearing up when she saw just how peaceful he was in his sleep.

Lilia had almost killed Tom Riddle, Voldemort . Shouldn’t she have done it and saved all the people that she would lose in the future? She had killed before, when she fought alongside her brother and her friends. She was a murderer but she supposed she had limits on her likelihood to engage in taking someone’s life. When she fought at the Battle of Hogwarts and afterwards, she knew that she would be killing people who had no remorse about taking lives. Thus, she reciprocated the feeling.

But Tom Riddle had not killed anyone dear to her. Not yet at least. 

Her eyes trailed the skin exposed through his shirt and she saw multiple smaller scars. The gash from Snape’s own curse was a dark shade of red. Tears rolled down her cheeks when she remembered that he hadn’t tried to attack her in any way.

To him, it probably looked like Lilia had lost her mind and had mindlessly started attacking him for no reason. He probably wouldn’t understand why the fact that they had started marking people was such a bad thing for her. He was just an ordinary Hogwarts student. He did have an inclination towards the dark arts and he most likely dabbed into some spells here and there. Logically, however, he wouldn’t be able to practise many spells until he left the grounds of Hogwarts. Most of his knowledge was most likely theoretical.

Lilia started sobbing quietly while more tears blurred her vision. She was the one with issues. She had used a dark curse against a defenceless student. Her friends probably thought of her as someone to avoid and beware of.

Were they even her friends? They would choose to cut off contact with her, especially after she almost killed Tom. Feeling her legs growing weak, she pulled away a stool by his bedside and sat down, sniffling quietly.

Why did she think that she could choose whether to end his life or not? It had been selfish, and she knew that it would have made her nights terrible. She had the weight of Theo’s father’s life on her shoulders. She had struggled to come to terms with it, and even then, the guilt never left. 

She reached for the stray curls across Tom’s forehead and pushed them away gently. She cared for the young man. He had brought out bits and pieces of who she was before the war had happened, as did the people around her. He had helped her when she had felt overwhelmed and hadn’t mocked her for it. No, he had been genuine.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice breaking at the end.

I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, so sorry for being like this .

She, out of everyone here, knew best what it was like to lose someone you loved and cared for. She could see more bandages peeking through the sleeves of his shirt. How much had she hurt him?

As she hid her face with her hands and continued crying quietly, she didn’t notice the boy in front of her blinking as he woke up.

Tom felt someone caressing his hair and heard a small voice apologising. Part of him already knew that it was Lilia. She was the only one who would feel comfortable touching him. He tilted his head to the side and watched her cry, the anger and hurt he felt when she attacked him slowly dissipating. Once again, he wondered about the kinds of secrets that she was hiding from everyone. Back then, he was convinced that he would die and he had felt the despair of not having been able to achieve something before dying. 

He had never heard of the spell that Lilia had used when she cut his chest. The pain had been unbearable and his mortality stood out to him. He hated death and she had waved it right in front of his face. He should have stood his ground better, launched attack spells instead of just defence ones. However, he couldn’t understand why she had done that. The knowledge that she had found out about what Celeste had done under his orders had been dismaying, but it didn’t justify her attempt to kill him.

Her words kept echoing in her mind: You will ruin this world one day, you will ruin everything . No matter how much he thought about it, it made no sense to him and in his state of confusion, he had refused to attack.

“Rousseau.” His voice was raspy and sounded more like a croak.

He saw her flinch at his voice and her hands moved, revealing her tear-stricken face. Lilia swallowed back her sobs, trying to regain control of her breathing. She had to leave. She made to get up, but he was quicker at anticipating her moves. His hand shot out and held her wrist, the sudden movement making him groan in pain. She didn’t try to get out of his grip and instead focused on the agony on his face. 

“Have you been hurt like this before?” She asked, unsure if he had heard her because she hadn’t been able to muster her strength to speak out.

With a small sigh, Tom watched her, brows slowly relaxing as the pain faded to a dull ache in his chest. “Never. You left your mark on me. Pretty nasty too.” He tried to quirk his lips upwards but he stopped when he saw more tears falling from her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have.” Her voice broke while she tried to contain herself. She had never been one to cry in front of other people, but she didn’t mind showing Tom her tears. It was ironical: Tom was the cause of all her tears. At least in the future. Or Voldemort. 

“Do you think an apology solves everything?” He asked. She shook her head and looked down at her lap, his hand still holding onto her wrist. Embarrassment flooded her mind and she didn’t know what to say. Nothing she said would make it better.

“I did not have the right. Don’t forgive me for this.”

“Why did you try to kill me? At one point, I could tell you were thinking of killing me. You almost did. What was the reason?” Lilia did not respond, eyes still cast downward. “Lilia, look at me.”

Gulping, she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. He didn’t look angry as she expected. If anything, he seemed curious. This could not be a good sign. 

“Now tell me, why did you try to kill me?”

She felt so nervous that her palms started sweating. “I can’t tell you. But I regret it. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

He scanned her face, looking straight into her eyes and trying to get into her mind. She quickly blocked him out, but he saw the lingering memory of a man with a scar across his face lying on a bed that looked similar to the one he was on. That was all he saw before she blocked him out. She knew about occlumency.

“Please, don’t,” she said in a soft voice.

Tom hated the way he felt when he saw her like that. She was hurt and vulnerable in front of him, and he should have hexed her for what she did to him. During times like these, when she was at her most vulnerable, she always wore a look of misery, like she was in pain, and his curiosity took prevalence over everything else. 

She had used particularly dark magic and hadn’t even flinched from its effects on her body. She had survived a war, but had she been at the forefront of it? It didn’t make sense; she was too young. Plus, she had healed him pretty well, and the only open wounds were the ones from the numerous hexes she had thrown at him. He was sure that he had never heard of a spell like this and this meant one thing: someone had created this new spelll. Someone very powerful.

“I will find out what you are hiding from me,” he said, his hand not letting go of her. She began to shake her head.

“Tom- ”

“You can’t stop me, Lilia.” 

She didn’t say anything. It felt strange to hear him use her first name, but then she had done the same with him too.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised again, not knowing what else to say.

He should have hexed her, it would be so easy. She was right in front of him and she was guilty of hurting him. With Lilia, however, his curiosity mattered more than imposing himself. He had never hesitated to curse his friends when he felt like they needed a reminder of what they were working towards. Granted, such instances had been rare but they were interspersed through the years. He wasn’t inhumane (even though he hated to admit it) and he didn’t like to see his friends in pain. 

He let go of her wrist and she held back a sound of protest. She had no right to expect anything from him, not after what she had done. But she was surprised when he brought his hand up to her face and wiped away the tears on her cheeks.

She was always warm under his touch. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to touch her so much, comfort her and reassure her that everything was fine. Maybe it was because he knew that he had seen what she really looked like the first time they met. A wary girl who looked sick and devoid of life. He wanted to know what made her like that. Sometimes, she would get lost in her thoughts and it aged her so much. She looked like she had seen more than what any girl her age should have. 

“I don’t like it when you cry,” he whispered, taking his hand away from her face. “Why?” “You are my friend, I care for you. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

He cared for her? Never in her wildest thoughts had she considered the possibility that Tom Riddle could care for her. “You don’t have to worry about me,” she murmured, not knowing what to make of his words. “Why? Is it because you don’t care about me? Is that why you wanted to kill me?”

Her throat tightened at the jab. She had been going down a spiral in the library before coming to the infirmary. She didn’t want to lose the friends that she had made. Especially not Tom, the one person who had comforted her without knowing what was going on. 

The silence prompted Tom to continue. “Is it because you don’t care for me that you are by my side crying and apologising for earlier?”

“I do care for you,” she whispered, convinced that if she spoke out, she would be in tears again. “Is it hard to admit that you care for people and that people can care for you?” She shook her head no. “It shouldn’t be. Now, don’t beat yourself up over this. You got me today. Show us your duelling skills, Lilia.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen your stance when you duel. You are a good duallist, and I want us to learn from you to improve ourselves.”

She had to pause. He was offering to have her teach both him and future death eaters how to duel properly. Was that messing with the timeline? Was she the one who had taught them how to do it and ultimately contributed to all the fights that they would get involved in?

“I- I need to think about it.”

“Take your time. Did you ever come to the infirmary for your injuries?”

“What injuries?” 

Tom sighed, “I can see blood on your shirt.” It had seeped through and he caught a peek of it from underneath her black robes.

Lilia moved her robe away and winced slightly when she saw the patch of red on her white blouse. She hadn’t buttoned up completely and when she moved her tie to examine the injury through her shirt, Tom saw a scar peeking from underneath. It was a deep white gash right underneath her collarbones and he guessed that it spanned across the length of her torso.

“I didn’t even notice, but I’ll take care of it,” she said, wrapping her robes closer to her frame out of insecurity. “You should get it checked by a healer-” “No!” She said too quickly.

She didn’t want to explain the numerous scars across her body. “I can do it myself.” “You are so secretive.” “I’ll be fine. Why don’t you rest now? I’ll get going.” “Are you going back to your bedroom?” “I guess.”

She left the infirmary, raising more questions in Tom’s mind.

Chapter Text

While walking towards her dorm, she was hoping, praying that Evangeline and Celeste were asleep. She didn’t know what to tell them if they saw her. They would probably avoid talking to her or lash out at her. She tiptoed in the shadows to hide from the prefects who were patrolling the area and eventually made it to the Slytherin common room. She breathed out a sigh of relief but that quickly faded when she saw the people who were sitting at the couches.

Her friends .

She stared at them like she had been caught red-handed at a crime scene. "

Lilia,” Evangeline started, getting up and heading towards her.

However, before the blonde girl could move forward, Abraxas overtook her and approached Lilia in large strides. His blue eyes shot daggers at her and she backed away against the main door in fear. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shouted in a booming voice. “You almost killed him, do you know that? Are you insane?” He grabbed on to the collars of her robes and pulled her towards him. She gasped while her hands reached out to hold onto his hands for some sort of stability.

Abraxas Malfoy hated her and he was sure of that now. Something about her had rubbed him off the wrong way but now he was sure of that gut feeling. She was dangerous . 

“I’m sorry-”

“No, you don’t get to apologise. Tom has never been hurt like this before and now he is in the infirmary because you decided you wanted to kill him. Nothing you say will change this fact.”

“Brax, come on. Let go of her.” Icarus came up behind the Malfoy heir and pulled him back, loosening his grip on the girl’s robes until he let go.

“Lilia, don’t mind him,” Icarus said apologetically, an arm around Abraxas’ shoulder to keep him from doing anything else to the girl.

“No, Abraxas is right.” She said, looking at the tall blonde man who was still glaring at her and the rest of her friends. “I should not have done that, I hurt you all. I don’t agree with what you did to Penelope. But that shouldn’t have warranted the way I acted towards you all. I’m sorry, I really am.” 

“I know you don’t agree with that, Lilia. Tom is in the infirmary, I think it’s best if you talk to him about that,” Celeste added, walking towards her.

By this point, everyone was standing and facing her. She didn’t like being the centre of attention like that. “I already talked to him.” She didn’t miss the look of surprise on their faces. “Did he say or do anything?” Tiernan asked. “We just talked.”

She felt like she was missing something when they all exchanged glances. Of course, they had known each other for much longer. They knew each other better. After some moments of quiet, Evangeline spoke up. “Lilia, we just need some time to wrap our heads around what happened.”

“I understand.”

“And I do regret hurting Penelope,” Celeste admitted in a quiet voice.

“Meadows,” Abraxas started, his tone underlying a warning.

“Malfoy, you already know I don’t believe in that anymore!”

“What will you tell Tom?” Tiernan asked, voice strict. Lilia had never seen him like that, Tiernan Nott had always been a lighthearted guy to be around. From what Theo had told her, he had been very strict with passing down pureblood ideologies as a grandfather. She had just never seen him like that before.

“Tom knows, okay? He knows. It’s just- I didn’t like the idea of hurting Penelope. She was a mudblood, yes, but she hasn’t done anything to us!”

“Point being, we just need some time, Lilia. You did hurt one of our close friends. We are not angry with you, I promise. We just need time to process today’s events.” It sounded like Evangeline was comforting her and Lilia wondered what she had heard from the few times she had unprecedented nightmares.

“I understand. Thank you for bearing with me.” She gave them a small smile, heart sinking to her stomach when Abraxas didn’t reciprocate like the others. “I’ll head back to the bedroom then.” They nodded at her in acknowledgement and she walked away, heart heavy. They didn’t want to be around her for some time. They were not being irrational and she had appreciated the fact that they had taken her dislike of their actions pretty well. However, that didn’t make it hurt any less. These people had been the reason for her serenity over the past weeks. They took her mind off her dilemma and she was grateful to them for it. 

She went straight to bed, not bothering to change out of her uniform and quickly fixing the small injuries she had from her encounter with Tom. She was exhausted and all she wanted to do was look at pictures of the people she had loved and cared for.

She took off the charm on her bracelet and reached inside the magically reduced bag. She felt around for picture frames, feeling the vials with different potions that she kept for cases of emergency. She did a quick calculation that she had only about two days’ worth of calming draughts remaining before having to brew a new batch.

When she felt the frames, she pulled out all the pictures. Her heart ached as she looked at the people who had become her family at Hogwarts.

They had all been taken at the Yule ball in her fourth year, and a fond smile covered her face. She had been proud of the dress she had worn to the ball: a long dark green dress that was strapless and that cinched at the waist before flowing loosely to her ankles. She had enchanted the lower half of her dress to sparkle like stars and it had been magnificent to twirl around in that dress. Her hair fell into loose black waves over her shoulders and she had worn dainty gold jewellery. Two simple earrings and a thin necklace that emphasised her collarbones. Theo had loved it.

In one picture, she was twirling around in her dress in the middle of the Great Hall. In another, Theo was smiling at her while she was laughing at something he had said.

In another photo, she was cheering with champagne flutes with Luna and Padma at her side.

In a fourth one, she was laughing with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and Draco was glaring at them from behind. Her lips curled upwards at the memory. She had just caught him off guard with something outrageous that she had said (Theo makes her horny) and she had run off to her brother and his friends.

In the last picture, she was sitting on a table with Harry smiling awkwardly at the camera. She had swung her arm around his shoulder and winked at the camera.

These were the people who had been her lifeline while at Hogwarts.

Her smile slowly faded when she remembered how things ended before she died. Harry and Luna were dead. Ron and Hermione had been fighting constantly after he had passed away, blaming each other for not killing off Nagini in time. Draco and Theo had both become death eaters, and she had been forced to cut off ties with both of them. They had never heard from Padma since the battle of Hogwarts and Lilia had been praying that she had just been forced to stay at school and study under the new curriculum set by Voldemort. 

The only memory that she had of Remus was a knife made of pure silver. He had hoped that it would repel the werewolf in him everytime he transformed. However, he had never let his insecurity get in the way of his care for Lilia. From the moment he had met the young girl on the Hogwarts Express, he had taken a liking for her and had made it his goal to protect the girl as much as he could. This was what had cost him his life eventually but he didn’t regret anything.

Lilia didn’t even know about it, but he had died hoping that she would remain safe and alive until Voldemort’s reign came to an end.

Lilia missed them all terribly and she fell asleep with thoughts of their happy moments swirling in her mind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Evangeline and Celeste talked to Lilia occasionally, but they all felt awkward doing so.

Hence, Lilia decided to avoid them as much as she could until they felt ready to talk to her. She didn’t condone the act of hurting an innocent student, but it didn’t justify the reaction that she had, especially when she had managed to undo their curse. It had been just like she had been told: the boys were more strict when it came to pureblood ideologies than the girls.

Lilia hadn’t even considered the fact that Tom Riddle’s Knights of Walpurgis could have consisted of girls too. What families did they get married into? She hadn’t recalled ever seeing a Selwyn or Meadows in the pureblood family trees after the 1950s. 

She skipped mealtimes because she knew that they would be at the Slytherin table, chatting together while she would feel like an outsider. Tom had been allowed to resume his normal duties when he had mostly recovered. Lilia had put together notes for the classes they shared together and had left them on his desk, before sitting elsewhere. He had given her small smiles of acknowledgement and it had been enough to make her blush.

What was wrong with her? Blushing because a future dark lord smiled at her?  She should have been embarrassed of herself.

Lilia managed to get special permission from Headmaster Dippet to use the potions classroom to brew the calming draught. She went to see Dumbledore who was curious to learn more about what she wanted the room for. “I have to brew a calming draught every five weeks or so.” She had told him, not wanting to go in too many details. “Do you have any condition?” Albus had asked, curious. “Just tremors.” That had been the end of the conversation and he had asked Headmaster Dippet to grant her special access. So now, she didn’t need to ask Slughorn before using the potions classroom when she needed and that made her job so much easier. 

Dumbledore had stared at the door of his office for a while after she had left.

Calming draughts were hard to brew. Did she have a lot of experience brewing them? Why did someone so young have tremors? He found himself wishing he could learn about the future again.

Tom Riddle would become a dark lord and bring chaos on the country. He still remembered the day he had met the young man, a frail and pale boy with pale bruises on his skin. He had been very lively when talking about how he used his magic to make the others regret hurting him. He had even shared that he could talk to snakes. The young boy was related to the Gaunt family, the only direct descendants of Slytherin.

Dumbledore had never told Riddle about that. It didn’t matter anymore because Marvolo Gaunt had been imprisoned for life in Azkaban for killing off the remaining Riddle family members. The news said that he had done so out of revenge for ruining his sister, Merope Gaunt. Why had he waited more than a decade for that? Albus couldn’t shake off the feeling that Tom was somehow involved in that. 

There had also been the death of Myrtle Warren who had been killed.

Tom was the one who had found Rubeus Hagrid guilty of her death because he had illegal animals stored within the school grounds. Hagrid was expelled and Tom was awarded for his service to the school. Albus knew for a fact that Hagrid wasn’t involved in her death. He couldn’t be; he was a kind giant. So far, he suspected Tom of four deaths but he didn’t have anything to prove it. If he was comfortable with killing off people, it wouldn’t be surprising that he would eventually become a dark lord. He was notoriously involved with the heirs of the most powerful pureblood families in Britain. 

Albus Dumbledore thought that Tom Riddle was devoid of emotions, but he didn’t know that the young man did care for his friends. He did not want to acknowledge the way the Slytherin prefect genuinely laughed and relaxed around them.

That would mean humanising the boy and since he does turn out to be a dark wizard, Dumbledore could not work with that.

Chapter Text

Grindelwald felt it weeks ago: a strange shift in the magical energy around him. At first, it was faint, like a whisper carried on the wind. But as time passed, it became stronger, sharper. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. Something, or someone, new had entered the timeline, leaving traces of magic unlike anything he’d felt before.

Then it happened: a surge of dark magic so strong it cut through the air like a knife. He didn’t need to know where it came from to recognize its power. It was deliberate, controlled, and dangerous.

“She’s revealed herself,” Grindelwald muttered, standing in the quiet of his study. He didn’t need to ask who. The girl he had sensed weeks ago was finally showing her hand.

Crossing the room, he stopped in front of a basin of shimmering water. The seer knelt beside it, ready to begin. Grindelwald gave a small nod, and the seer placed her hands over the water. The surface rippled, then stilled as the vision began.

“What do you see?” Grindelwald asked, his voice calm but firm. The seer shivered as her eyes widened. “She is not from here,” she whispered. “Her magic doesn’t belong to this time.” Grindelwald’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.” “She carries memories of war and loss,” the seer said. “Her magic is fractured, like it’s caught between two places. And now... now she’s using it.”

The ripples in the water shifted, revealing shadowy figures. A girl with dark hair stood at the center, her face sharp with determination. The seer gasped. “She used a curse, one that is unheard of . ” Grindelwald’s lips curved into a small smile. A curse that had not been created yet. Whoever this girl was, she had walked through darkness to learn it and he could feel it.

“Who is she?” Grindelwald asked, stepping closer. The seer’s voice trembled. “She wields a ring- a black stone set in gold. She uses it to call someone back. A boy. He’s not here. He’s dead.”

Grindelwald’s eyes lit up. “The Resurrection Stone,” he murmured. The seer nodded, her hands trembling. “She summons him. He warns her, but she doesn’t listen. She falls, my lord. Her grief... it consumes her.”

Grindelwald watched the vision fade, his mind racing. This girl, Lilia Potter, was more than an anomaly. She was powerful, and power like hers always came with a price. “She is bound to the past,” the seer added, her voice soft. “But she cannot escape it.”

Grindelwald turned away, a plan already forming in his mind. “She’s extraordinary,” he said to himself. “A force caught in the wrong time. And now, she’s mine to shape.”

As he left the room, a faint smile crossed his face. The girl was no longer a mystery. She was an opportunity, one he wouldn’t waste.

Chapter Text

With her friends needing time to process everything that had happened, Lilia also needed to think about her options. She could either use this as an opportunity to break off the friendship or agree to Tom’s offer to train the first generation of death eaters. 

The more selfish part of her wanted to talk to them, spend time with them. She missed playing around with them in the common room, missed playing off Icarus’ flirtations, missed studying with Tom in the library, missed girl talk with Evangeline and Celeste, missed having food with Tiernan and Abraxas joking with her (mostly Tiernan) . 

Since she avoided them at meal times, she felt hungry all the time. She only managed to eat something small like honey drops when she went to the Ravenclaw common room where she spent time with Septimus, Caspian and Katarina. Being with them took the focus away from the fact that she missed her Slytherin friends. It was also interesting to see a more playful dynamic among them. They were more relaxed about their studies, in spite of being Ravenclaws, and she had never related to that. 

In her time, she had been obsessed with her grades and she was competing against Hermione most of the time. It had always been a tie between the two of them, but she had been hurt by a news article by Rita Skeeter that said Lilia Potter was just ordinary, unlike her brother. She didn’t give up, and maintained her tie with Hermione even though she wanted to be the one to come on top. Nothing was ever enough to make her stand out unfortunately .

“Lilia, have you dated anyone?” Katarina asked her, eyes shining with curiosity, and effectively snapping the dark haired girl out of her morose train of thought. “I have,” the latter responded with a small blush. “Merlin, are you seriously blushing already?” Septimus asked, a disbelieving smile on his face. Caspian had been engrossed in a book but looked up when he heard Septimus’ comment. “What, I can’t even react anymore?” Lilia mumbled, looking down at her lap.

They were all sitting on the floor by the fireplace. The rugs in Ravenclaw had always been so soft and cosy. 

“Tell us more,” Katarina probed with a wide smile. “Well.. His name was Theodore and we had known each other for four years by the time he asked me out. It’s funny because I figured that he liked me too when he asked me to be his date for a ball while we were fighting about who messed up an assignment we did together. Then we kissed and we were dating.” “Awww, that’s so cute! Where is Theo now?” “Oh, he’s still back home.” “Right, you left France because of the war. So he’s still there?” Septimus asked. Lilia hummed and nodded, the dull ache back in her chest as she thought of the world he was still in. 

“This is terrible timing, Lilia. Really terrible timing, but do you want to go to the Slug Club dinner with me?” Septimus was as red as his hair and Lilia couldn’t help the small laugh that left her mouth. “Are you trying to recreate Theo's proposal, Weasley?” “No, not at all! I’ve just been thinking of asking you to accompany me. If you don’t want to, though, I understand.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Lilia initially thought of saying no, but it would help her take her mind off things. She hadn’t been invited to the Slug Club, but it didn’t surprise her. She hadn’t been at Hogwarts for long in this time. It would be strange for her to receive an invitation. Her last name was not impressive and she was average in her studies. 

When her mind strayed to how she wouldn’t have minded attending the event with Tom, she banished away the thought, scandalised at herself. Why did she wish to attend with Tom Voldemort Riddle? “I’ll accompany you.” She sent Septimus a teasing smile and he looked down with red cheeks.

“Wow Septimus, I didn’t know you could ever get shy like that,” Caspian chuckled.

“Do you like me?” Lilia asked.

“You’re not half bad, I suppose,” Weasley mumbled.

That made her grin.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When Lilia left the Ravenclaw tower at dinner time, she couldn’t help but feel guilty when she saw the plates of food on the Slytherin table. Her stomach growled and she ignored the sharp pain she felt. She had hurt her friends, she had almost killed Tom. The very idea of eating felt like a betrayal of her own guilt. She couldn’t fix what she had broken and she did not deserve any comfort.

It was pathetic and she was not usually one to wallow in self-pity but she felt like she had to punish herself for what she did. So, she ignored her body’s needs and went to hide in the library. She would sit in a remote corner, look into books on time travel ( half-heartedly ) and head back to her dorm when she knew that Celeste and Evangeline were asleep.

The longer Lilia went without eating, the weaker her body grew. She felt physically drained and her vision blurred easily. However, she cast glamour spells to hide her deteriorating physical health. Her magic had started feeling sluggish too, but she could not bring herself to face her friends. 

As she headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Katarina approached her with concern etched on her face. “Lilia, are you sure you’re doing okay?” “I’m fine. Just tired.” Lilia quickly brushed her off. They both sat down next to Caspian and Lilia’s heart ached as she saw Tom, Tiernan, and Icarus sitting in front of her. Tom was slightly hunched over and it took everything in her not to run away at the sight. Her guilt was suffocating her. 

As students got up for a practical lesson, Lilia stood in front of Katarina, wand raised as she tried to listen to Professor Merrythought. It felt like a joke when she started dualling with curriculum-approved spells after she almost took away a student’s life. After casting a few spells, her vision blurred and she felt the room spinning when she raised her wand to cast another spell. Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the stone cold floor.

Gasps erupted across the classroom. “Lilia!” Katarina exclaimed, alarmed, as she rushed for her friend.

Tom stood there, frozen for a moment before he stepped forward, a mixture of confusion and guilt flickering across his face. Professor Merrythought kneeled next to her before calling out for help.

Tom did not hesitate as he scooped her up in his arms and along with the professor, they headed to the infirmary. They rushed down the hallways and he felt alarmed by how fragile she seemed in his arms.

“What happened to her?” Healer Rosemerta asked while directing them to a bed where Tom laid her down.

“She was dualling in my class before she fainted,” Galatea Merrythought answered. The healer cast a diagnostic charm; the different lines didn’t make sense to Professor Merrythought or Tom. “Malnutrition,” she muttered, waving her wand over Lilia’s face and removing the charms she had on. The professor gasped audibly; Tom clenched his jaw. She was pale all over and her lips were grey with the barest hint of pink. 

“I will give her some replenishing potions and she should be fine,” Rosemerta said. “Plus, she will have a few questions to answer when she wakes up.” “Is there anything I can do to help?” Tom asked, watching the unconscious girl’s pale face. “Is she your friend?” He tightened his hands into fists briefly before relaxing. “She is.” “Has she been eating?” “No. I have not seen her at dinner for the past days.” “And you did not find it unusual?” Rosemerta was annoyed. 

Tom fought to reign in his frustration. He had been concerned for Lilia but he assumed she was eating with her Ravenclaw friends because he always saw them together. He could not explain the guilt that he felt as he thought of how she had ignored her health. And for what? “I did… I should have said something.” He finally answered in a clipped voice. “You should have.” Rosemerta sighed before continuing. “You can head back now. She will be fine in here.” 

As Professor Merrythought and Tom walked away, he looked back and his gaze lingered on her pale face, her pale lips. She was somehow always suffering. Be it from her nightmares, her past, her probable refusal to eat. Tom hated the way it caused his chest to tighten.

Back in the infirmary, Lilia woke up with a groan about half an hour later. At first, she was disoriented, looking at all the white around her with confusion.

Then, her heart lurched when she remembered that this was where the casualties of the Order had laid, dead while they had been trying to keep count. She panicked, breaths getting shallower while she sat up.

But everything looked serene around her, the light of the sunset filtering through the windows. It took her some time to remember that she was in her sixth year at Hogwarts in the 1940s. As her breathing calmed down, she looked down at herself. What had happened to her?

“You’re up, miss Rousseau,” the healer said as she walked to her bed. Lilia could have sworn that the hushed voices somewhere in the infirmary went silent as soon as the healer spoke. She didn’t dwell on it for too long because the healer looked stern as she spoke to her. “Looking quite rested after you fainted in your class. You have not been eating well. Now that is hard to achieve because Hogwarts serves hearty meals at three different times. So unless you went out of your way to avoid eating, you wouldn’t be here after fainting.”

She blushed in embarrassment, groaning mentally. Of course, she would have to explain herself now. “I apologise,” she mumbled.

“There is something seriously wrong with you.” Ouch .

“There is nothing wrong with her, Rosie. Those are harsh words for a student.” They both turned to look at Albus Dumbledore. “Did you not notice you were feeling faint?” Albus asked her, and she shook her head. “Not really. I didn’t realise that at all. I’m…” She didn’t continue her sentence. She had pushed away the discomfort and pain her body was in to the extent that she could not feel them sometimes.  “She will eat properly now, Rosie. She knows better.”

“Fine. Only because you say so, Albus. I have never seen such a bad case in this school in years.” The healer grumbled as she left the two of them alone.

“How did you know I was here?” The young girl asked the professor, noticing that she did feel better.

“I asked the healers to let me know if you ever come in here due to an issue. Given your situation, I thought it would be best for me to be the first point of contact if anything happens to you.”

She hummed; it did make sense. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Lilia. Why haven’t you been eating?”

“I don’t know, I guess….” She trailed off. Albus sighed and took a seat by her bedside. “You can tell me things you know. You are shouldering a heavy burden by keeping so much to yourself. It must be tiring, Lilia.” 

Her breath hitched at his words and she hesitantly spoke out. “I suppose I wanted to punish myself somehow for what I did to Tom.”

Albus sighed. “Do you really think that helped your situation?”

“No, of course not. I’m just… hurt. I am ruining things and it makes me feel like a complete fool.”

“Lilia, your situation justifies the reaction you had.”

“He doesn’t know that. The others don’t know that either. It doesn’t justify the fact that I almost killed him. I can’t expect them to be fine with my actions because I thought it was justified in some sense.”

“Given what you know about him, I don’t blame you.” Albus tried to reassure her. 

She paused before continuing in an anguished voice. “But I blame myself. My memories from the war, they suffocate me. There are times when I don’t think of the war as much, and yet others, when it is all I can think about. Things were hard. I was struggling to keep up, to do the bare minimum to survive. We were always on the run and…” Lilia’s voice caught and she forced herself to calm down.

She was talking to him about the war, something that she had never done before. He intended to take full advantage of that.

“You were on the run from…” Dumbledore began and they shared a knowing look.  “Yes.”

“How bad were things in that war?”

“Terrible. I lost my friends and my family. But I…”

“You?” He prompted softly.

“I had to live for Harry, I had to protect him somehow.”

“Who’s Harry?”

“My twin brother.”

“And what happened to Harry?” Lilia gulped, swallowing the tears that were threatening to come out. She didn’t need to cry, not now, not in front of Albus Dumbledore. “He’s dead. Vol- He killed Harry.” 

The sentence was barely audible, but Dumbledore heard her loud and clear. “I’m sorry to hear that, Lilia.”

“It’s okay, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” She paused. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Professor.”

“Of course, my dear. Now,” he raised an eyebrow at her, “have you been avoiding meals to avoid your friends?”

“Yes… I feel awkward. And embarrassed.”

“Lilia, you can’t keep doing this forever.”

“I know,” she sighed.

“If you keep avoiding eating, you will faint again and you will end up here again. You should take care of yourself. If you don’t, I will have to assign a prefect to watch over you.”

She flushed in embarrassment at the notion that she would be treated like a child if she did not start eating on her own. “I understand.”

“And talk to your friends instead of avoiding them.” 

All he got was a loud groan in response but it made him smile slightly. Lilia was not a typical young girl and he wanted her to experience some sense of normalcy for someone her age.

At her age, he had been with his lover in their village, running off in the wild and making good memories. As for Lilia, she had watched the people she loved die. Dumbledore left her to rest and she sighed and closed her eyes. 

She fell asleep, the exhaustion catching up to her.

Chapter Text

Unbeknownst to Lilia, Tom had been in the infirmary when Dumbledore had come to see her. Abraxas and Celeste had been with him at that point, and they had all gone quiet when they heard the healer call out Lilia’s name. Abraxas was telling him more about how the spell Lilia used didn’t exist anywhere while Tom was getting his bandages removed. His injuries could heal on their own now. Celeste had come along because she felt bad with Lilia barely being around. Tom almost scoffed at her before he realised that he missed having her around too. The fact that she fainted created a constant knot in his stomach.

Then, they had heard the conversation between Lilia and Dumbledore unintentionally.

It had raised more questions about her in Tom’s mind. Of course, he had been concerned for her. He didn’t know that she had a twin brother who died in the war. He hadn’t thought that Grindelwald would be attacking such young people, but Lilia’s situation said another story. He wanted to talk to her, see how she was doing. He had noticed that she hadn’t been joining them for meals but for her to faint? It was serious. 

Tom could still hear the anguish in her voice while she talked to Dumbledore and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to keep her at a distance anymore. Yes, she had almost killed him but she had also healed him. She had saved him and now, with the knowledge that her past haunted her more than he imagined, he had to understand her. 

Abraxas had hated the way Lilia had sounded so miserable and the way in which his own chest tightened. His best friend almost died because of her. He could not sympathise with her, no matter what her past was. Nothing would ever justify almost killing an innocent person. A nagging voice reminded him that he had no qualms about hurting the mudblood from Hufflepuff, but he pushed it away.

Celeste had been heartbroken. The girl had become such a close friend and not having her around had been unpleasant. She wanted to talk to Lilia, but the latter had been fast asleep by the time they went to her bed.  

The next morning, Lilia sat awkwardly at the Slytherin table. Both Lilia and the others were at a loss about what to say. They knew what had happened, but no one brought it up. It would make her feel worse so they decided not to say anything.

“Here.” Tom handed her a cup of her pumpkin shake and she stared at it in surprise.

“You remember that I like this?” She asked him.

“He’s been drinking it every day, you know.” Icarus told her with a small smile.

That made her chuckle and it felt like the weight on her shoulders was coming off. “So you do like it.”

“It’s not that bad.” Tom said, slightly embarrassed that Icarus told her he had loved her drink. 

“We missed having you around, Lils.” Tiernan said and everyone agreed, except for Abraxas. She tried not to think much of it, more focused on what Tiernan had said.

“I missed you too.” She said with a sad smile. “And I’m sorry for last week.”

“I’m fine now.” Tom said to reassure her.

“I’m so glad you’re here with us.” Evangeline squealed and hugged Lilia from the side. It felt like the clouds above her had dissipated when they started chatting to her. She had missed their camaraderie. It didn’t matter that they were going to become the first death eaters: they made her days better when the war had taken away her shine.

“By the way, this is for you.” Tom gave her an envelope while she was eating.

“What’s that?” She opened it and pulled out an invitation. “The Slug Club?”

“It is a club that Professor Slughorn has for students that he believes have a lot of potential. He is holding his winter dinner this weekend before the semester gets hectic.” Right, it was the end of November.

“Oh, okay. Are you all in it too?”

Everyone nodded, but Abraxas was still avoiding looking at her. 

He was understandably still angry at her, but she wouldn’t complain. “Someone asked me to be their date for that night,” Lilia added.

That got the others’ attention and they all turned to her curiously. “Who?” Icarus asked, looking comically heartbroken.

“Septimus Weasley.”

Abraxas scoffed, “A Weasley, really?” It seemed that the disdain of the Weasleys by the Malfoys was intergenerational.

Lilia simply nodded, making him sigh in exasperation. “Of course you would go with Weasley. Blood traitors, the lot of them.” She gulped but didn’t say anything. She was also a Potter and she briefly wondered what his reaction would be when he found out that she was also from a family of blood traitors.

Abraxas was trying to get a reaction out of her, but she didn’t say anything.

“Don’t say things like that here.” Tiernan glared at the blonde guy.

Icarus, Evangeline and Celeste were looking at each other. Tom was focused on Lilia and the small frown on her face. She was probably scared of messing up again, which explained her silence.

Tom didn’t like that at all. 

“We are rethinking our whole pureblood stance. There are more factors to take into consideration than we initially thought,” he eventually said, earning surprised glances from the other six people.

“We are?” Tiernan asked, skeptical.

“Yes. While we do want to continue with this school of thought, it is also important to ensure our numbers don’t fade out. It puts us at a disadvantage to be more of a minority than what we already are.”

“And you’re telling us that now?” Abraxas asked, ticked off by Tom’s comment. Everything had changed for the worst since Lilia had come to Hogwarts. More importantly, the Tom that he knew would never have said something like that.

“Abraxas.” Icarus’ tone had a warning to it.

“I have to go.” Abraxas left the table and Tom sighed loudly. 

Later during the day, Tom found Abraxas hunched over a book in a secluded corner of the library.

“Brax.”

Malfoy visibly stiffened and he looked up warily to see the dark haired prefect sliding into the seat next to him. “Tom.” His reply was curt and Abraxas could not explain the knot in his stomach. Riddle took out his books, parchment and quill, and straightened before focusing on his friend. 

“You’re angry.” He stated.

“No, I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me, Brax.”

The latter sighed and shut his book. “You never discussed those things with us. How could you tell Lilia that we were rethinking everything?”

“I was planning on telling you all about my thoughts.”

“But you decided to go ahead and tell her that we were thinking of changing our stance because you know she is clearly against it.” His words sounded accusatory. 

“It’s not only about that.” Tom paused before continuing. “She had a valid point when she brought up the fact that we were minorities in this world. As much as we hate it, there are not enough wizards. Pureblood families can only do so much to contribute to the birth rate. They cannot populate the entire wizarding world.” Such a comment might have made Abraxas laugh at another point, but right now, he was frustrated. 

“So what? Purebloods should mix with mudbloods and muggles? Is that what you are suggesting?”

“I’m saying that we should think of the greater good of the wizarding world. Ultimately, what we want is for our people to thrive. Look, you yourself are an only child.” Malfoy nodded. “Most of the other pureblood families have one or two children too, three at most.” Tom continued. “There are only 28 pureblood families and about half of them are blood traitors. Do you see how that affects the numbers in our society?” Abraxas nodded slowly.

“Do you think it is realistic to restrict ourselves to pureblood families only? There will come a point when we might go extinct.”

Malfoy tensed at his words before sighing. “So what are you saying we should do?”

“We should think about what we want carefully. Rousseau made a good point earlier. There are many more factors involved in this. It is not as simple as becoming all powerful and ruling the whole of the world. We have to really think about what we want and who we want to witness the day we harness enough power to leave our mark on the world.”

Riddle saw the tension leaving Malfoy’s shoulders and he allowed himself to relax too.

“My parents support Grindelwald’s views, you know.”

“I know and I understand it. But Grindelwald has not given it much thought. He is more focused on annihilation.”

Abraxas’ lips quirked upwards in a smirk. “Oh, are you saying you’re better than Grindelwald?”

“In terms of magical ability, I will be. In terms of logic, absolutely.” Tom’s expression mirrored Abraxas’.

“To ruling the world one day, brother.” Abraxas stretched in his chair. The knot in his stomach was gone.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Was she changing something in the timeline?

Lilia had found Tom’s comment about stopping the pureblood lines from dying out, quite strange. It was not like what she knew of him. Voldemort would never have said something like that. Ever. But he was not Voldemort, was he? 

Lilia sighed and tried on a dress while Evangeline and Celeste were waiting outside. They were shopping for a dress for the Slug Club dinner and Lilia had to wake up earlier than usual to cast repeated concealment charms to hide the scars across her body. 

She twirled around in the blue dress that she had on, watching how clear her skin looked in the mirror. It wasn’t marred with scars and she felt strangely naked without them. When she came out, Evangeline and Celeste seemed to be focused on the dress, not liking how it looked on her.

“I’m not sure how to feel about this one.” Celeste said. She had settled on a pink dress while Evangeline was going with a white one.

“I think a navy blue dress would look better than the pastel blue I have on right now.” Lilia added thoughtfully.

It took them two hours to find the perfect dress. It was a navy blue strapless dress that hugged her waist before cascading into a full skirt.

“It’s a really pretty dress, Lilia. But isn’t it too plain? You will be dancing with people that night and meeting well-known wizards and witches. Don’t you want to make an impression?” Evangeline asked her, brows furrowed.

“I know a secret or two.” She smiled in response. Lilia hadn’t felt so light in so long. As a student, she had discovered a small book in the library that talked about how magic could be used in fashion. The girls bought high heels and jewellery before calling it a day at Hogsmeade. 

They then headed to the Three Broomsticks to grab butterbeer with the boys.

“What did you get?” Icarus asked Lilia, sitting down next to her, too close for her liking. She shifted uncomfortably but smiled at him nonetheless. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see tomorrow.”

“Don’t I get special treatment?” Icarus tried pouting at her, making her laugh at how absurd he looked.

“You’re too old for this, Lestrange. And no, if anything, my date should be the one getting special treatment.” She smirked at him, teasing him.

“Good lord. What did the weasel do to deserve you but not me?” He sighed dramatically. 

“Stop calling him that, you are so mean, Icarus,” she chided playfully.

“It’s almost like I’m a Slytherin,” he added lightly and shifted to get a better view of Lilia.

“That’s just an excuse.”

“Salazar, do we have to listen to these two all day long?” Tiernan complained while Lilia and Icarus kept talking to each other, the other four forgotten.

“You’re just jealous, Nott,” Evangeline hummed, drinking her butterbeer.

“Of course I am! When will I find a beautiful girl all for myself?” He sighed and stared at his drink dejectedly.

“When you stop whining like a little bitch.” The blonde girl smiled at him sarcastically.

“Language, Evangeline.” Tom reprimanded, brows slightly furrowed. 

“Oh relax, Tom.” She rolled her eyes at him. “It’s fine to swear once in a while. You need to let go sometimes.”

Tom shook his head and sighed. Why was he surrounded by such childish people?

He could tell that Lilia was not comfortable with the way Icarus was being touchy with her, but she wasn’t saying anything. There was always a tiny flinch whenever the Lestrange heir tried to touch her. 

Tom was more curious as to why he had started noticing these small things about the girl sitting in front of him and smiling at Icarus. He had meant to ask her if she would be his date for the dinner with Slughorn, but someone else had already asked her out. It was just out of mere camaraderie; he would have asked someone else too. She had just been his first choice. 

Meanwhile, Riddle did not notice the soft look that Celeste had when she stared at him. Celeste Meadows had been in love with Tom Riddle from the moment she had met him. She had kept it well hidden, knowing that the boy would never prioritise love over his own goals. That never deterred her affection. He was good-looking, smart, charming, and polite. He was the perfect prince charming. 

Tom had never really looked at Celeste in that way. He had been more interested in the fact that she came from a pureblood family. He had always made it clear that he had no other interest in their friendship, but she still liked him. She always tried to look good when she saw him. He had never paid attention to her, and it had caught her off guard when he had complimented Lilia’s hairstyle the first time.

She had felt a strange mix of hurt and happiness. It made her sad that he never paid attention to her.

But she was also happy for her friend. Lilia had the prettiest smile she had ever seen and she cared for her a lot, especially since Celeste knew that she came from a war-stricken background.

Celeste did not feel any jealousy towards Lilia, even when she knew that the new girl had caught Tom Riddle’s attention, something she had never been able to achieve in all those years. She loved Lilia like a sister and she didn’t mind being a bystander while Tom became more intrigued with Lilia. The Sorting Hat had stalled for her, between an odd combination of Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Celeste wasn’t sure why it decided to choose Slytherin, but she felt more like a Hufflepuff at times. 

Evangeline had an inkling of Celeste’s feelings for the prefect, but she never said anything. They didn’t really talk about it because Celeste wasn’t sure she would be able to handle the hurt if they did. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The evening before the dinner had been chaotic.

Lilia, Evangeline and Celeste had all rushed to shower. They helped each other do their makeup and Celeste was in charge of the hairstyles. Lilia preferred having her hair down because it made her feel less exposed. So Celeste compromised and did a half-up half-down hairstyle and added a golden brooch. The only jewellery she wore was Theo’s necklace and a pair of gold earrings. She had face framing layers, and Lilia marvelled at how pretty she looked and felt.

Her final trick to make them all look beautiful was to enchant their dresses and hair. Lilia enchanted the lower half of her dress to look like tiny stars and when she twirled around, the stars shimmered brightly. She enchanted Celeste’s hair to shimmer like her dress, and for Evangeline, she added a shimmering touch to her exposed skin. They all looked beautiful in their dresses. Finally, they slipped into their heels and they were ready. 

“Tom will think that you’re so beautiful, Celeste.” Lilia smiled fondly at her friend.

“I think Septimus might faint if he sees the stars on your dress. You are dressed in Ravenclaw colours, blue looks good on you.” Celeste complimented.

“Maybe in another life, I would have been a Ravenclaw.” The two other girls laughed, not knowing that that had actually been the case for Lilia.

“I’m stuck having to go with Icarus, out of all people.” Evangeline grumbled, her blue eyes shining beautifully.

“It’s okay, you’ll meet your boyfriend during the winter break.” Celeste teased.

Lilia gasped, “You have a boyfriend?”

Evangeline blushed, “I mean, we are set to get married when we both finish our studies.”

“Merlin, where does he study?”

“Durmstrang. He is my most charming husband-to-be.” Evangeline chuckled.

“Fascinating.” Lilia smiled, choosing not to focus on the fact that Durmstrang was notorious for including the dark arts into their curriculum. 

They headed to the common room, where the boys were already waiting.

Lilia caught sight of Tom who was smoking and staring at the fireplace. His face was turned to the side but she noticed his sharp jawline and the way it flexed when he exhaled some of the smoke. Why was Tom Riddle so mesmerising? She hated smoking, never saw the point of endangering one’s health like that. But he looked elegant and she could picture him standing on a stage, smoking with a crowd cheering for him.

Upon hearing the sound of heels clicking on the floor, Tom turned to look at the girls, eyes landing on Lilia. Her cheeks reddened and she quickly looked down at her own heels. Tom smirked and crushed his cigarette in an ashtray on one of the tables. 

“Well, don’t you look ravishing, ladies.” Tiernan complimented with a small bow.

“Thank you. You look very handsome too.” Lilia said, smiling at the four guys standing in front of her. They were wearing black three-piece suits with black robes on top. It was very similar to their Hogwarts uniform and yet, they looked better. She was surprised when Abraxas gave her a small smile.

“Wait, Lilia, your dress looks different. Is there glitter on it?” Icarus asked, quickly getting closer to her.

She had to hold herself from stepping back, but she fisted her hands by her side. She had become wary of the touch of men since what happened with Dolohov in the Malfoy manor, especially if she did not want to be touched. However, she couldn’t keep living in fear like that. She was trying to overcome the new fear that she had developed, even though it was hard to forget how easy it had been to be physically overpowered by a man.

“I enchanted it to mimic a starry sky.” She twirled in place, her dress flowing loosely and the stars glimmering.

“I should have been your date.” Icarus sighed, “You are too beautiful for the redhead.” She blushed from the compliment and chuckled. Tom’s jaw ticked in annoyance but he did not say anything.

“You say that when your date is right here? I expected better, Lestrange.” Evangeline grumbled and hit Icarus on the shoulder. “Ow! What was that for?” “For being such an idiot.” The two kept bickering while they headed out of the common room. 

Lilia was all the way at the back with Tom, and she wasn’t sure how that had happened.

“You look nice.” He told her, looking down at the girl by his side. “You look very nice too.” She smiled at him, a slight blush tinting her cheeks when he stared at her with his dark eyes. It felt like there was no one else around them. His curls were styled neatly, one strand purposely left on his forehead. He looked elegant, and the way he held himself added to his charisma. Tom Riddle was an absolute charmer. 

She quickly broke off eye contact with him when she noticed Septimus nervously looking around. “Septimus!” She called out and walked to him, a wide smile on her face.

“Lilia! You look- absolutely stunning. So beautiful, Merlin. Are you doing better now? I heard about what happened the other day.”

“I’m doing fine. I just had some… food issues..”

“Sure you’re okay now?”

“Absolutely.” He looked behind Lilia and she followed his gaze to see her friends standing there awkwardly. Right, they didn’t know each other personally.

“This is Septimus Weasley.” She gestured at her date.

“Riddle.”

“Lestrange.”

“Nott.”

“Malfoy.”

She cringed from how curt their introductions had been. 

“Evangeline Selwyn.”

“Celeste Meadows.”

Thankfully, her two friends made up for the boys, and they shook Septimus’ hand. “Well, let’s get going then,” the latter said.

“We need to stop by Ravenclaw tower. Malfoy and I are picking up our dates.” Tiernan said briefly, almost challenging Septimus to refuse with his eyes.

“Ravenclaw tower it is.” Septimus smiled, refusing to play into their game and turned around. Lilia and Septimus were at the front of the group of Slytherins, chatting.

“So, I bet you think Theo was more creative than me when he asked you out, huh?” Septimus chuckled, hand rubbing his nape in embarrassment.

“I think you both have a knack for bad timing” She smiled, remembering how chaotic it had been. They had been arguing one minute and the next, he had asked her to be his date for the ball. She had been in disbelief but had said yes.

“Okay. Boys with terrible timing, I get your type now.”

That made her chuckle. “What kind of girls do you like?”

“Girls like you.”

“No, no, no. Give me a proper answer, Weasley.”

“Well, someone I would want to settle down with, you know. Get a job, get our house, start a family, have two or three kids, grow old together and die peacefully.”

Lilia was not that girl. She felt the sinking feeling in her stomach again. She didn’t think she could go back to wishing for simple things like having a family of her own and dying peacefully. She had physical and emotional scars from the war, and her wishes had consistently been hoping for her loved ones to live again or for her to die so she could be free from the torment caused by the war. She didn’t feel beautiful because of the scars that marred her body and she knew that no one would love her for being the way she was.

Septimus didn’t know about what her body had been through and he would feel repulsed if he did. 

“You want to settle down.” She commented wistfully, wishing that it could have been her. At 14, she had been strongly considering it. Now, she didn’t know who she was anymore.

“Don’t you?”

“Not really.” Her reply was vague and Septimus wasn’t sure how to keep the conversation going. “You will figure it out someday.” “Maybe.” She gave him a strained smile. When they reached the stairs at the bottom of the Ravenclaw tower, two girls were already waiting. Aurora was Abraxas’ date and Nelia was Tiernan’s. The group then proceeded to Slughorn’s office, which he enchanted for his dinner nights. 

Taking a deep breath in, Lilia walked in along with her friends.

Chapter Text

“Ah, Tom, my boy!” Slughorn patted him on the shoulder.

It was obvious to Septimus, Aurora and Nelia that the Potions professor had a blatant bias towards his own students. Slughorn shifted his attention to Lilia, asking her how she was feeling after the “incident” over the past week. He complimented their outfits and only gave curt nods to Aurora and Nelia.

“Ah Weasley, you made it! Oh, is Lilia your date for tonight’s dinner?” He asked Septimus who smiled politely. “She is.”

“Interesting. Never thought of a pairing like that, myself. But enjoy yourselves, ladies and gentlemen!” He moved on to the other people who were coming into the room.

Lilia gaped when she took in the room, which was really more like a ballroom. In her time, the Slug Club had been a smaller and more private affair. She took in the sprawling tables draped in pristine white cloth, laden with an array of delicacies. At the center, a cascading chocolate fountain flowed endlessly, while hundreds of champagne flutes, stacked into a glittering pyramid, caught the soft glow of the chandelier. A string quartet played softly in the background, blending seamlessly with the hum of conversation and the occasional clink of champagne glasses. Around the room, guests in elegant formal attire mingled in small clusters, each holding a delicate flute of champagne. The scene had an almost comical resemblance to a photograph from a 1940s newspaper, capturing the essence of a grand and glamorous soirée. There were Ministry officials present too. 

“Slughorn goes all out for his parties,” Icarus said, “Don’t mind me just heading for the champagne.” He pulled out a tiny bottle of amber liquid and Lilia gasped. “Firewhisky!”

“Anytime for you, sweetheart.” He winked at her and walked away.

“He’s not supposed to be drinking.” She told the others, who just shrugged.

“We all smoke anyways,” Tiernan added and pulled out a muggle cigarette.

“Oh, don’t mind them, Lilia. The boys smoke anywhere.” Evangeline said when she saw her surprised expression. “Celeste and I smoke sometimes too.” The blonde girl giggled but Lilia had never seen any of them smoke.

“How have I never seen you guys smoke?”

“Well…” Tiernan began, “We meet in Tom’s room, seeing as he has the good stuff. He told us you don’t smoke, so we just meet there and smoke for a small break.” Tom corroborated with a nod.

Lilia nodded and felt like it had clicked in her head. They had been smoking when she attacked Tom. That’s what they were doing; they hadn’t excluded her on purpose. It had been a blur through the rage she had been feeling.

“It’s a surprise how I haven’t smelled it on any of you,” she mumbled.

“Magic, baby,” Tiernan chuckled and passed his cigarette to Nelia. Abraxas did the same to Aurora and Lilia felt uncomfortable at the subtle display of intimacy.

“Wanna get some champagne?” She asked Septimus, who nodded. “See you later.” She waved at them and turned around to head to the pyramid of glasses.

“Bunch of troublemakers, your friends.”

“I didn’t even know about that.”

“Merlin, I can’t believe Tom Riddle smokes. The Tom Riddle who is a perfect student, perfect prefect, perfect award winner for the school.”

“What award did he win?”

“Something for special services towards the school. He caught someone who was responsible for a girl’s death last year.”

Oh right. Myrtle Warren. 

“What happened?” She asked to keep up her pretence.

“Basically, it was this giant who was in the same year as us. Gryffindor. Kept many weird and dangerous creatures, and one of them caused Myrtle Warren’s death. Riddle found the giant and his creatures, and he was expelled for her death. Crazy story. But honestly, death might have been better for the girl. She used to be bullied by this other girl called Olive Hornby who dropped out of Hogwarts. Out of guilt, I imagine.” Septimus just called Hagrid the giant, not even bothering with names. It stung, especially because she knew that Hagrid was innocent. 

“Must not have been easy for Riddle,” he added thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Riddle and Warren were close. There were even rumours that they were dating.” What?

“What do you mean?” She hadn’t even noticed that they were at the champagne table, and Septimus took one flute, handing it to Lilia before taking one for himself. “Well, they were very close. Used to study together in the library all the time.” He answered after taking a sip of his champagne. “Oh.”

Lilia turned to look at Tom, who was talking to what looked like a Ministry official with Celeste by his side. Tom was close to Myrtle? She had never heard of that. Initially, she hadn’t thought that Tom Riddle was capable of affection or care. But she had been proven wrong so far. Tom did care for people. 

“Anyways. Your friends don’t like me, do they?” He asked, eyeing the food that smelled appetising.

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry about that.”

“No, don’t apologise. I know their type. How did someone like you even befriend them? You are kinder than they are. And sweeter. And prettier.”

“You flatter me.” She chuckled and took a plate. 

Lilia couldn’t help herself from comparing how being with Septimus was different than being with Theo. She hadn’t fussed over her appearance for Septimus, she wasn’t nervous. It was like hanging out like they usually did in the Ravenclaw tower, except they were at Slughorn’s dinner party. She couldn’t envision their relationship being anything but platonic. For the Yule ball, she had been stressed about whether Theo would ask her out, whether she looked nice enough, whether he would want to kiss her. Every touch had sent butterflies in her stomach. She had liked Theo but Septimus was just a friend.

When they finished eating, Lilia excused herself and went to see her friends, who were sitting at a table together.

Tom, Celeste, Icarus and Evangeline were chatting among themselves at the table while Abraxas and Tiernan were dancing with their dates. “Hey guys,” she greeted and took a seat at their table.

“Lilia! How’s your date with Septimus?” Celeste asked excitedly.

“It’s okay. He’s a nice guy and we talked about a bunch of stuff.”

“Not impressive then?” Icarus asked, hopefully, and Evangeline frowned.

“He’s just a friend,” Lilia shrugged, “What have you been up to?”

“Just eating. A bunch of Ministry officials already came up to Tom. Slughorn has been singing his praises, so he got some internship offers already.” Celeste said.

“Internship offers?” Lilia asked, eyes widening slightly.

“Unbelievably hard to come by, but he got four already. Oh to be the perfect Tom Riddle,” Icarus sighed. 

“So, will you consider the internships?” She asked the young man who was sipping on his champagne.

“Maybe.” Tom raised an eyebrow at her and she felt herself flushing. It must have been the champagne, she had no reason to be so flustered right now.

“Any field you are considering for a career?” He asked her, and everyone turned to look at her curiously. She didn’t have an answer, she wasn’t looking forward to anything after graduation.

“Lilia!” She thanked her stars for the opportune timing and turned to her side to look at who had called out her name.

She immediately got up, knocking into a flute that was close to her and spilling champagne onto the tablecloth. “Shit.” She mumbled, trying to clean up quickly and casting a spell. “Hi Mr- Uh Theseus.” She gave him a sheepish smile and shook his hand.

“Fancy seeing you here! You’re part of the Slug Club then?”

“Yes. How do you know about it?”

“Oh, a bunch of the newer aurors told me about it. Then I received an invitation from Horace Slughorn himself. Can you imagine that? A renowned professor contacting me?” Theseus chuckled, his eyes wrinkling up cutely.

Lilia watched him with admiration, aware of his humble nature. He was a Hufflepuff, just like Newt. 

“You are the head of the auror office. You need to give yourself more credit, you know.” She smiled at him.

“Looks like we have something in common, huh?” The question reminded her of a similar conversation she had with Remus, but she didn’t let that dampen her mood. “Oh, before I forget. Come with me, I will introduce you to Newt.”

“Oh, he’s here?” She gaped at him, unable to believe her luck. “I dragged him, but he’s here. Oh, you are Lilia’s friends, I assume?” He looked at the four other people who were sitting at the table and watching their interaction.

They all nodded at the same time, and Lilia held back a small laugh. It was funny to see their heads bobbing at the same time.

“What are your names?”

“Tom Riddle.”

“Icarus Lestrange.”

“Evangeline Selwyn.”

“Celeste Meadows.”

“Tom Riddle, hmm? Horace mentioned that you were good at potions and defence against the dark arts. Have you considered working as an auror?”

“I have considered it, Sir.”

“Call me Theseus, please. I will have a spot for you if you wish to intern first.”

“Thank you, Theseus. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Now come, Lilia. Newt hates social events like this.” Lilia was not a big fan of social events herself, but she glanced at her friends excitedly as she followed Theseus. They smiled and cheered her on with enthusiastic gestures. 

It was happening. She was meeting Newt Scamander, someone she has looked up to. As she approached the man, she couldn’t help but notice how different he was in real life as opposed to mere pictures. Newt Scamander was very tall, very blonde and looked like he wanted to run away.

“Newt, this is Lilia Rousseau. The one I told you about. She likes magical creatures and is a big fan of your work. Lilia, introduce yourself.” Theseus gestured at his brother and Lilia nodded, stumbling on her way to greet him. “Hello Mr. Scamander. Theseus gave a good introduction about me, but words cannot explain how much I love your work.” She began before getting distracted by something on his shirt. 

“Is that a bowtruckle?” She asked softly, leaning in slightly to get a closer look. The creature was very small and it squealed before hiding into Newt’s pocket. The latter smiled and looked down at Lilia. “His name’s Pickett. Very shy, took him a long time to trust me.”

“I heard you are the only one they wouldn’t hide from at Hogwarts.”

“I have always been interested in understanding magical creatures better. You like them too?”

“I do, reading your book has been life changing for me! You are so dedicated to your passion, it inspires me.”

“Would you want to work with me?” “

Oh, I- That would be my honour,” Lilia stumbled over her words.

“I am looking for someone to take care of my creatures while I bring a new addition to my family. I am leaving on an expedition in about three months. I expect it will take me two months to be done. So I would need someone in May, just for a month, but if you are curious about them, you might like it.”

“Yes!” 

Theseus chuckled, “You jumped on my brother’s offer so quickly, Lilia. I am hurt.”

“No, please, I apologise Theseus. I’ve just never really had an opportunity to deal with many magical creatures. I love them!”

“You will love this job then. Nice to meet you again, Lilia Rousseau.” 

Lilia was on cloud nine. Fantastic Beasts and Where You Can Find Them had been her solace when she found it hard to sleep at night when she was in her second and third years (along with countless romance and thriller novels) . She practically jumped in joy while heading back to her friends, who saw her coming and tried to act like they hadn’t been watching her interaction with the world-famous magizoologist. 

“Lilia, how do you know the Scamander brothers?” Celeste asked her when she sat down.

“I went to see Professor Dumbledore once and Theseus happened to be there. But I told him I loved Newt Scamander’s work and I met him today. He said I could join him for a month over summer!” Lilia was beaming with joy. Tom’s own lips quirked upwards when he saw how genuinely happy she seemed. He hadn’t seen a look like that on her.

“You love magical creatures?” He asked her, to which she enthusiastically nodded. “I’m a huge fan of his work, it’s fascinating how all these creatures exist and we don’t really bother with them when they can help out. I mean, magical creatures have been pivotal in some of the duals between Newt and Grindelwald.!” 

Her friends were slightly confused when she didn’t react to the mention of Grindelwald but they tried not to think much of it. Maybe she was just overenthusiastic at the idea of having met someone she admired.

“That’s an amazing opportunity, Lilia!” Icarus exclaimed, “Tom and Lilia already have offers. Eva, Cel, we need to work for something too.” The two girls grumbled in agreement. 

“Lilia, come join me for a dance.”

It was Septimus, who did not give her a chance to respond before holding her hand and making her get up. She gave her Slytherin friends an apologetic nod and went to the dance floor with the red-haired boy. 

“Saw you talking to Newt Scamander,” he said as he placed a hand on her waist and she placed hers on his shoulder.

“I might have landed myself a small summer job for him.” She trailed, lips quirking upwards when Septimus’ eyes widened. “Merlin, you did, didn’t you? You are an amazing woman, you know that?” He twirled her around while she giggled. Okay, the champagne had not been a good idea. They danced happily and chatted while laughing.

Tom could not keep his eyes off Lilia even though Celeste was talking to him. For once, he thought that she looked relaxed and happy while most times, she looked stressed. It was mesmerising to watch her twirl around, her dress glimmering and attracting eyes on her. “Tom, do you want to dance too?” He turned back to Celeste and nodded. The brunette had a light flush on her cheeks and he found it cute. Did all girls have such low tolerance? They only had champagne. 

“Let’s go.” He got up and held a hand out towards his date. Tom noticed that Celeste’s brown hair seemed to be shimmering too, just like Lilia’s dress.

“Did Lilia enchant your hair too?”

The girl smiled at him, “She did. She has a few tricks up her sleeve.”

For some reason, he couldn’t make the link between the girl who had used dark magic to kill him and the girl who knew small fashion spells. It was strange, but Lilia was an intriguing girl anyways. 

They also made it to the dance floor. Tom had mastered ballroom dancing since he had gotten lessons at the Malfoy manor two years ago. He had practised with Celeste back then, but he had been paying more attention to how the British pureblood families seemed to know each other. They all maintained good relationships with each other and marriage happened exclusively among these families. Nott and Malfoy were both seeing girls who were not purebloods and he knew for a fact that their families would not approve, but who was he to judge?

He had been infatuated with a mudblood himself .

In the meanwhile, Lilia and Septimus were done dancing and they were getting more champagne.

She really shouldn’t have been drinking so much. She didn’t want to think about the state Icarus would be in after mixing firewhisky with champagne. The idea of this mixture made her scrunch her nose in disgust. She sipped on her drink while leaning against the table, her eyes finding Tom and Celeste on the dance floor. They were both tall and attractive, and Lilia felt a dull ache in her chest when she thought about how they would make a good pair. Merlin, she really needed to stop drinking (but she didn’t) .

What was she doing thinking about another man while her date was right here? Why was that man Tom Riddle, future dark lord, out of all people? 

“Lilia.” Septimus whispered her name while he stood in front of her. She had not been paying attention to him. She straightened herself, she hadn’t realised how tall the redhead was. He leaned in with eyes fluttering shut and her own widened in surprise.

He was going to kiss her .

“No,” she whispered, but he didn’t hear her. “No!” Her voice was firmer this time and he stopped midway, his lips inches away from her own before his eyes opened immediately.

Her breathing was shallow, and she was secretly grateful that he hadn’t tried to forcefully kiss her. Dolohov had done that, and the only person she had kissed afterwards had been Theo. But that had been a goodbye kiss and in the moment, she hadn’t thought of Dolohov. But here, with her mind woozy and an unwanted kiss lingering, she clearly remembered how it felt to be forced upon. 

“Fuck, Lilia, I- I’m sorry-”

“You’re just my friend, Septimus. I don’t see you like that.”

“Right, yes, right. You don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s oka-” She didn’t let him finish before leaving her glass behind and rushing outside. 

She left the room, the music and chatter slowly fading away until all she heard were her hammering heartbeats.

Chapter Text

Lilia rounded a corner, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor as she stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Flickering pyres cast restless shadows, their warmth unable to chase away the chill that seeped into her bones. She stopped by a narrow window, wrapping her arms around herself as she gazed out. The compound below was empty, veiled in darkness, its outlines barely visible beneath the star-scattered sky.

Her feet ached, but the thought of slipping off her heels and exposing herself to the cold kept her rooted in place.

The stars shimmered above, steady and ageless. She had always been drawn to the night sky, typical of a Ravenclaw who once found comfort in Astronomy charts and celestial patterns. But now, the heavens felt heavier, distant yet familiar, as if they alone knew the truth of who she was. Fifty-five years had passed, yet the stars remained unchanged. Perhaps they were the only witnesses to her secret, the only constant in a world where everything else demanded reinvention.

Tonight reminded her a lot of the Yule ball. That had (arguably) been the happiest night of her life.

However, since that night, it was like there had been a cloud of constant grey over their lives.

Lilia had never really had a choice in whether she would join the Order of the Phoenix; it had been assumed that she would. She did it out of love for her brother, and their mission was to protect Harry at all costs as he would be the one to put an end to Voldemort. But then Harry died. Hit by the killing curse in front of their own eyes in Hogwarts. He never woke up again and it had been like it was straight out of a horror story.

She had discussed it with Hermione: Voldemort’s soul should have been killed and Harry’s should have been fine. It didn’t work out like that and she had lost her brother.

She trembled from the cool air and her morose thoughts.

Her mind then shifted to Septimus who was about to kiss her. She wasn’t ready to kiss someone. She didn’t know if she would ever be ready for that again. When she thought about kissing someone, she remembered how Antonin Dolohov forced his mouth on hers to shut her up. When she thought about getting intimate, something she had never done before, she remembered how he took that away from her. 

Everything had hurt, and with the emotional damage that such a violation had done, it had been worse that the three hours of torture at Bellatrix’ hands.

She couldn’t simply put behind her past and start dating as if nothing had happened. She needed help, but that meant that she would have to share what had happened to her. They were her most shameful moments. She didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of someone like that. No one would understand her; they hadn’t lived through the same ordeal she had.

The sound of footsteps caused her to snap out of her thoughts and look to her right.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Tom walking in her direction, his face sharp and his eyes focusing on the view outside through the open windows. When he turned to look in front of him again, he finally noticed Lilia. She looked unreal to him, with the light from the stars shining her face while the pyre in the back added a warm glow to her skin, a contrast between warm and cool lights playing across her features. 

“Rousseau.” He acknowledged her with a small nod.

“Riddle.” She gave him a small smile though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He stood next to her, making sure to keep his distance from her and took out a cigarette from his pocket. He used a lighter, the small flame briefly illuminating his face. Lilia noticed the way his eyes seemed to shine brighter with the light of the flame. His hair was still neatly styled and it looked like he was ready to attend another event. He brought the cigarette to his lips with long fingers that Lilia hadn’t noticed until that moment.

With a small blush, she looked away and instead focused on the stars again. She heard a small exhale and a cloud of smoke filled the space in front of Tom.

“You’re thinking of something,” she said. His jaw clenched as he took another drag of his cigarette. Myrtle Warren. The girl he killed. “Or someone.” “Who’s that someone?” “A girl I used to like.” “Do I know her?”

No way- was it just like Septimus said? Did Tom and Myrtle use to date?

“You don’t. She’s gone.” “I’m sorry.” “No big deal.”

They didn’t say anything after that, just filled the silence with their own thoughts.

Lilia couldn’t focus properly when she smelled him close to her. He was wearing a cologne today. It had a strong woody undertone and somehow, she could still pick up on his usual minty scent. She had come to associate his scent with all the times he comforted her and it made her relax. Her mental reminders that this was young Voldemort kept getting weaker with each moment she spent with him.

Tom noticed that the girl beside him was trembling, her hands rubbing up and down her arms. She was also shifting from one foot to the other. “Are your heels uncomfortable?” He asked her. “Yes, my feet hurt.” She looked down at her feet, but couldn’t see them under the thick material of her dress. “Why don’t you take them off?” “I’m cold.” 

He exhaled loudly, another cloud of smoke filling the space between them. He took off his long robe, leaving him in his three-piece suit. Lilia had to stop herself from ogling his sharp proportions. Tom Riddle was so tall and handsome.

“Let me put this on you,” he said as he kept his cigarette away on the windowsill.

“It’s fine, really. You’ll get cold too.”

“I have a suit on and you only have a dress. Just put it on for now and you can give it back to me when we get to the common room.”

“Sure, thank you,” she murmured and he walked up behind her. She was overly aware of how close he was behind her, his breathing audible in the silence. His scent overtook her senses and she briefly closed her eyes to reorient herself.

He put the robe on her shoulders, the material bunching at the sides because her shoulders were not as broad as his. Her hair was pulled back and he noticed that the scar that he had seen when he was in the infirmary was no longer there. She must have used a concealment charm to hide it. She adjusted herself when he was done putting it on, surprised that it fit her. The robe stopped close to her ankles. He then got down on his knees, making her gasp in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“Your heels, Lilia. You can’t take them off with the dress you’re wearing. Let me do it.” He looked up at her, and with beet red cheeks, she nodded. 

He lifted her dress slightly, and she bunched up the material in her hands to help him. Tom noticed that both her ankles had scars around them. They were faded but still very visible. With nimble fingers, he unhooked the strap of her heels and took them off gently. Lilia stepped out of them and she let out a small sigh of relief. He kept her heels on the side and got back up.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

His eyes fleeted to the necklace she was wearing. A simple golden necklace that he had seen before.

“Do you always wear that necklace?”

“I do. It was a gift from… someone I dated.”

“Is that someone still back in France?”

“Yes.”

“Do you miss him?”

She gave him a sad smile. “I do. It’s a terrible feeling.”

“I understand.”

“Do you miss anyone?”

“Someone I dated too. I could have saved her but I don’t think she wanted to be saved.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was softer than usual. She had never seen this side of him.

He picked up his cigarette and took another drag. “She chose to die.” Tom’s eyes were dark and he was staring at the sky through the open window, the cool air caressing his face. Myrtle had known how to make herself die. She was smart like a typical Ravenclaw. He hadn’t anticipated the impact of her death on his own life.

Lilia reached a hesitant hand towards his arm, and she squeezed lightly. He looked at her in surprise since she had never reached out first to him. “I’m sorry to hear that. How are you holding up?” He stared at Lilia, unsure of what to say. How was he holding up? It was strange, he had never thought of it. He always made it a point to push through with his life; there was always something to work on. Get better. Do better. Become more powerful. Make an impact. 

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. His gaze never left her face but it didn’t intimidate her or make her uncomfortable.

“I’m always here if you want to talk to someone.”

“You don’t talk to anyone about what you are struggling with, do you?” She swallowed thickly and slowly shook her head no. Lilia reminded Tom of Myrtle in that sense. He wondered if he just liked the fact that both Myrtle and Lilia were obviously (to him) broken individuals. They both kept up their smiles in front of other people but in their most vulnerable moments, they cried and looked for someone to hold on to. 

Lilia just needed to talk to someone, but she wouldn’t. She kept the horrors of the war a secret and Tom found himself constantly wondering about what she was hiding. Did Grindelwald have another hidden motive behind the war in France? It rubbed him off the wrong way that people his age were being killed. 

He softly pushed away strands of her black hair that framed her face. “You probably just want to help, but take care of yourself first. If you keep bottling all your feelings, it will overflow one day and you will fall apart.” She was already very broken .

She let go of his arm and instead, hesitantly grabbed on to his wrist which was right by her face, a small plea in her eyes. “I don’t know how to do it. I…” Her voice trembled slightly before she continued, “No one asked me how I was doing.” 

His fingers moved from her hair to her chin, tilting it upwards towards him. “How are you doing?”

“Terrible. I keep trying not to think about the past but… My past is who I am. It made me the person I am today. I can’t just forget.” Her eyes looked glassy under the light from the stars and her throat was choked up on emotions. She didn’t know where to begin or to finish.

“Don’t make yourself forget, Lilia. Keep the good memories in your heart. You don’t have control over the past, but you do over the present and even the future. You need to heal and you’re not letting yourself heal.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “Don’t be so harsh toward yourself. You are a great girl, what made you like this?” 

“You think I’m great?” She asked in a small voice. She hadn’t expected to like his compliments. But she did, she looked for them even when she didn’t want to admit that to herself.

“Rousseau, I have never seen a Slytherin who has been as quiet about her grades as you have. You are smart and you are good at duelling. You have so many things to look forward to. You are very accomplished.” No one had ever talked of her like this. It was always Harry or Hermione, never Lilia. People only knew her as Harry Potter’s sister.

But here, she was her own person . “Thank you. It means a lot.” She tried smiling at him, not wanting to show just how much his words had affected her. “No one has ever told me that.” She added in a quieter voice.

“They were just fools. You are amazing, Lilia. Never forget that.” He let go of her chin and sighed.

She genuinely smiled at him and he couldn’t help but admire the way her dimples formed when she did. She was a pretty girl but it wasn’t just her appearance that captivated him. It was the vulnerability in her eyes, the way she was always holding herself together, even when it was clear that she was falling apart inside.

“What I said earlier still stands. Feel free to talk to me if you need someone to talk to. I think I’m a good listener.”

Tom replied, “Noted. I would much prefer listen to you talk though.”

“Why?”

“Just because.” She blushed lightly and looked down with a smile. His own lips quirked upwards when he noticed her red cheeks. She was so cute . 

They spent the next moments just staring at the stars, enjoying the shared silence.

Chapter Text

Lilia wasn’t sure if she liked the way in which she always seemed to be looking for Tom, no matter what she did.

She pushed away thoughts of the curly haired prefect and felt guilty when she refocused on Weasley in front of her. She had sought him out, wanting to apologise for how she abruptly left the past Sunday.

Septimus looked hurt, and her heart sank to her stomach. “I am so sorry for how I left the dinner, Septimus. That was rude of me,” Lilia apologised, biting her lower lip nervously and fiddling with her fingers.

“I am sorry too, Lilia. I just assumed you would want to kiss me, and well… After talking to Kat, I think I should have asked you if you wanted to kiss.”

“I would have appreciated that.” She gave him a small smile, “But I should not have left as suddenly as I did. Please forgive me.”

“Lilia, I am not angry with you. I am embarrassed because I should have known better.” He sighed loudly, “Does this ruin our friendship?”

“I don’t want it to. I like you a lot as a friend.”

“That’s a relief,” he hesitated before continuing, “If you don’t mind me asking, are you interested in a relationship with anyone?”

“Not really. I need time to myself.”

“Is it your Theo?”

“No. It’s not Theo. There are some issues that I would like to focus on, and dating is not a priority for me.”

“Right, of course. Then, we’re still friends?”

“We are.”

They shook hands awkwardly which made Lilia chuckle.

It was easier to lie her way through than explain why she didn’t think romance was meant for her anymore.

Yet, she kept thinking about Tom’s scent and the feeling of having him close to her. The way his cologne had lingered on her skin after she had taken off his robe when they got back to the Slytherin common room on Sunday night. The memory gave her butterflies. He had held her heels while she walked barefoot, a liberating feeling that left her feeling strangely exposed even though she was mostly covered.

She was not ready to give away pieces of herself in a romantic relationship. 

Whatever she would experience in this time period would be based on a lie because she couldn’t reveal who she was. And yet, a small part of her had started thinking about what it would be like to fall asleep in Tom Riddle’s arms, surrounded by his comforting scent.

Why did she even feel safe being around the same person who would lead mass killings in the future? That didn’t make sense at all.

That night, when she fell asleep, she saw Harry. Her initial reaction had been to run into his arms and hug him until he asked her to stop squeezing him. However, his words cut through her heart, hurting her so much that she woke up while struggling to breathe. Her hands were also clammy and her heart raced in her chest.

“How could you betray me and everyone who died because of Voldemort by befriending him? How can you befriend our murderer? ”

She asked herself the same question every time she relaxed around her friends.

Lilia knew that it was selfish of her to want to keep them by her side because they helped her take her mind off the strange predicament that she was in. Tom and the descendants of her friends would create chaos in the future. She knew that very well, and yet, they were the reason why she looked forward to the next day.

The next morning, Lilia found herself standing in the damp greenhouse for Herbology, feeling oddly out of place without anyone to share the potting station with. Thick, leafy vines of bouncing bulbs and the earthy smell of moist soil filled the enclosed space. As Professor Beery introduced the day’s lesson on cultivating venomous tentacula sprouts, Lilia’s thoughts drifted momentarily to the dinner with Septimus. And then to Tom.

She forced herself to refocus on the thorny plant in front of her.

She worked in silent concentration, carefully untangling a wriggling root and guiding it into place. At times, she felt like the lone Slytherin in a sea of chatter from other Houses, but she didn’t particularly mind the solitude. It gave her a chance to think, free from distraction. Still, she couldn’t help the occasional flicker of Tom’s face in her mind, which she tried to push away by burying herself deeper in trimming the unruly leaves.

Later that afternoon, she headed across the grounds to the Care of Magical Creatures paddock, where she joined Caspian. A small group of students gathered around Professor Kettleburn, who was explaining the proper way to handle nifflers without losing all of one’s shiny belongings.

“Ah, Miss Rousseau,” Professor Kettleburn called cheerfully as she approached. “I trust your previous class went well? We’re about to start. Grab a pair of protective gloves on the table and join us!”

Caspian nudged Lilia as soon as she arrived, a whimsical grin on his face. “You’re late,” he teased. “The venomous tentacula decided I looked like lunch,” she replied with a wry smile. “I’m lucky to have both of my hands still.” “Sounds like a typical day in Herbology,” Caspian chuckled lightly.

Professor Kettleburn introduced the lesson: they would be feeding and observing a small family of black-furred nifflers. A large crate rattled with excitement as the magical creatures inside caught sight of the students’ glinting buttons, jewelry, and any dangling pocket watches. Caspian raised an eyebrow at Lilia.

“I hope you didn’t bring anything shiny, or we might never see it again,” he whispered, pulling a few stray sickles from his pocket and holding them out for one of the curious nifflers. Lilia quickly buttoned up her blouse to hide her necklace.

A niffler scurried forward, sniffling at Caspian’s hand before snatching the coins with lightning speed. Lilia knelt down, offering another niffler a small faux-gem keychain she had tucked away in her bag. The creature’s eyes lit up, and it snatched the trinket greedily, its long snout twitching as it stuffed the keychain into the pouch on its belly.

“They’re clever little things,” Lilia said softly, watching how quickly the niffler secured its prize. “It’s a good trick to carry around decoy trinkets,” Caspian agreed, “especially if you ever want to keep your wand from mysteriously vanishing.”

They spent the lesson learning how to keep the nifflers occupied with “safe” shiny objects, so they wouldn’t run off with students’ valuables. Afterward, Caspian walked with Lilia back toward the castle, going on about possibly training a niffler to find lost Quidditch gear.

“They’re born treasure-hunters, though. Not sure how they’d feel about scouring the pitch for stray Bludgers,” Lilia teased. “Maybe I’ll design special treasure-like Bludgers just for them,” Caspian mused, shrugging.

By the end of the day, Lilia’s feet ached from trudging between the greenhouses and the paddock.

Yet, her mind drifted to Tom again: his quiet presence, his lingering scent. She found herself wishing the classes had done more to distract her from thoughts she wasn’t ready to face. She sighed, pushing open the massive doors of the castle, knowing all too well she’d likely end up in the library soon, burying herself in coursework… and her growing confusion.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The last week of November went by in the blink of an eye and it was soon the time when assignments for every class piled up. Professors wanted students to submit their assignments before the winter break before moving on to the second portion of their syllabus after the break.

Lilia spent all her free time in the library, going over concepts that she was already familiar with. The first half of the year was more theory-driven with some practicals interspersed throughout, and she was looking forward to the second half of the academic year. She wanted to practise spells in a school environment. Back when she decided to hunt for horcruxes with Harry, they had dropped out of Hogwarts to make the most in a limited period of time. 

“Salazar, why did he even assign an essay like that? Seven scrolls to explain why the incorrect brewing of the draught of peace can result in irreversible sleep. That’s too much work, too many ingredients to look into.” Icarus groaned and pushed back into his chair, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes.

“It’s actually pretty simple,” Lilia began but Icarus cut her off with a louder groan. “Lilia, as much as I love hearing you talk, you are a nerd just like Tommy boy over there.” He quickly sat up and jutted his chin towards the dark haired boy who was sitting opposite him and glaring when he heard the nickname. He then turned his attention to Lilia who was sitting on his right.

Icarus continued, “No, it’s not simple for me. You are just such a big nerd.”

That made Lilia chuckle, “Aren’t you a chatterbox?” They both got shushed by someone at the table behind them, making them quickly apologise. 

“And we can’t even speak!” Icarus whisper yelled.

“I don’t know Icarus, that could probably be because this is a library and silent study is in effect,” Tiernan whispered with a shrug.

“We’ll need to get dinner soon though,” Evangeline added, putting her quill away and rubbing her temples.

“You’re right. We’ve been here for three continuous hours now,” Abraxas sighed.

“You’re just saying that because you want to see your little girlfriend,” Celeste giggled and elbowed the blonde guy.

“We barely have time to see each other,” he grumbled, rightfully omitting the fact that he was only with Aurora for show.

Lilia listened to them chat among themselves, remembering how her friends teased her about Theo and how she teased Harry about Ginny. They were such simple moments, but they had made her happy back then. 

“I’m finished with my work, so I can leave at anytime,” Lilia said.

“What were you working on?” Tiernan asked her.

“An essay on diricawls.”

“Right, Care of Magical Creatures. You might be the only Slytherin in that class.”

“I am, actually. The others are mostly Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.”

“What do you like about this class?”

“I find it interesting. Magical creatures can be very helpful.”

“With keeping gardens free of gnomes?” Tiernan chuckled.

“Among other things,” Lilia smiled at him.

“Is everyone done with their work?” Tom asked, putting away his quill. He had been working on his DADA essay and no, Lilia had not been glancing at his nice handwriting every now and then. When everyone nodded, he continued, “We can get dinner now then.”

Tom Riddle was a natural leader. He spoke with confidence and an expectation that others would follow. His voice was smooth and was nothing like the raspy voice that Voldemort had. Voldemort was barely human, with unnaturally white skin, snake like features and red eyes. Tom Riddle was a young man with beautiful features and he was popular with the girls at Hogwarts. 

Lilia thought about him while she followed her friends out of the library when they finished packing their things. She took note of small details about him: he preferred savoury food over sweet food, always ate an apple at every meal, preferred tea over coffee, took good care of his appearance and always smoked late at night when most people were asleep. 

At the dining table in the Great Hall, her unofficial designated seat was right in front of Tom. That gave her a good opportunity to observe what he would do, without realising that he would do the same with her.

He had noticed that Lilia always ate in small portions and he often thought about whether that had to do anything with rationing from the war that she lived through. She liked the strange pumpkin mixture that he thought was decent. When she smiled wide enough, she had a tooth that was slightly crooked on the right side.

She also often sat in silence in the common room, staring at the fireplace while he would smoke in the corner. 

These were their own little moments, where they didn’t say anything but somehow found comfort in each other’s company.

Chapter Text

The fire crackled in the grand study, its flames casting flickering shadows on the walls adorned with different patterns. Gellert Grindelwald sat in quiet contemplation, the invitation from the Malfoys resting in his hands. The Yule Ball, an event of aristocratic indulgence, was draped in tradition and ambition. It was precisely the kind of theater he enjoyed, where alliances were forged, secrets were traded, and weaknesses were exposed.

But this time, it was not the Malfoys who intrigued him. It was the girl. Lilia Potter. An anomaly, a force out of place, bound by grief and fueled by desperation.

“She will be there,” he murmured, setting the invitation down on the table beside him. His tone carried a note of certainty. The pieces were falling into place.

He rose and began to pace, his steps deliberate. The seer had spoken of her weeks ago: a fractured soul from a time not her own, wielding magic that carried the weight of a war not yet fought. She was dangerous, yes, but more importantly, she was vulnerable.

“Her grief defines her,” he said softly, almost to himself. “It fuels her magic, yet blinds her to its consequences. And now, she walks willingly into the trap.”

The seer stood silently in the corner, her hood pulled low. When she finally spoke, her voice was tremulous but steady. “She seeks answers, my lord. About the boy… the one she loved.”

Grindelwald stopped pacing, his lips curving into a sly smile. “Theodore Nott,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “A name that carries no weight in this world, but for her, it is everything. Her heart clings to the dead because the living offer her no solace.”

He turned toward the fire, his gaze thoughtful. “And yet, she does not know. Not yet.”

“She will learn,” the seer whispered. “At the ball. You will tell her.”

Grindelwald’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with something cold and calculating. “Yes,” he said. “I will tell her. And when I do, it will shatter her.”

“She carries herself like a warrior,” he mused, his fingers tracing the edges of the map. “But grief is her chain. It binds her, weighs her down. I will pull on that chain until she breaks.”

The seer hesitated before speaking again. “She is searching for something, my lord. The stone.”

Grindelwald’s head tilted slightly, his interest piqued. “The stone,” he murmured. “A relic of power, tied to a lineage as ancient as the magic she wields. She doesn’t yet understand its significance, but she is drawn to it. And if she finds it…”

He let the thought hang in the air, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. The stone would serve as the perfect lure. Whatever she sought, a connection to the past, a link to the dead, she would find it only on his terms.

“She will take the stone,” he said finally, his tone decisive. “And when she does, she will use it. Her desperation will drive her to the stone’s power, and in doing so, she will bare her soul.”

He turned back to the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. “Let her believe she is in control. By the time that night is over, she will understand how wrong she is.”

“And if she resists?” the seer asked cautiously.

Grindelwald’s chuckle was low and menacing. “Well, that’s what I’ll see.”

He turned toward the window, his gaze distant. The Malfoys would serve their purpose, their arrogance blinding them to his true intent. The ball was merely a setting, a facade for the shadows that would soon fall.

Lilia Potter would come, unwittingly stepping into the jaws of the trap he had so carefully orchestrated. By the end, she would no longer be a fractured soul wandering through time. 

“Enjoy yourself, Lilia Potter,” he murmured, his voice laced with quiet menace. “Dance among your friends while you can. By the time the music fades, you will be mine.”

Chapter Text

It was a Saturday evening when Lilia was sitting by herself on a couch in the Slytherin common room, flipping through a book she found on the bookshelves that barely anyone touched.

It was an old copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Why would a muggle book be on a random bookshelf in the Slytherin common room? She found it funny but she skimmed the pages with an air of nostalgia. 

Lilia heard footsteps and she looked up, expecting to see Tom coming out for a smoke. Instead, Abraxas Malfoy was standing in front of her, his blue eyes darker in the dim lighting.

“Hi,” he greeted and sat on a chair in front of her.

“Hey.” She quickly straightened herself, sitting upright against the cushion in the back. She wanted to put her feet down, but she was so cosy with them huddled under the throw blanket that Evangeline left for her to use. She also didn’t want Abraxas to know that she was self-conscious in front of him. The blonde man somehow managed to look poised and aristocratic even in his loose silk pyjamas.

“What are you doing over the winter break?” He asked after clearing his throat.

“I don’t really have anything planned yet.” She had been putting off thinking about the winter break. She had no one here and she would most likely have to stay at Hogwarts. Or maybe she could visit a new place? She didn’t know what to do on her own when she had always had Harry by her side. 

“Would you like to spend it with us? Everyone will come to my house and we will spend those two weeks together. There is a Yule ball that my family is hosting and you could attend it too. If you want.”

“Oh, I mean, I would love to. I just… I thought you didn’t like me after I hurt Tom.”

“I might have overreacted because he is my close friend. I found it unsettling that you tried to kill him, but then we did also hurt an innocent student,” Abraxas paused, “Fair warning though, my family is quite strict. It doesn’t matter if you agree with their views or not, I am expected to continue the family line.”

“Okay. I won’t say anything that doesn’t line up with their views.”

“Will you be okay doing that?”

“I don’t personally believe in it, but I will try my best.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your blood status?”

“I’m a half-blood.”

“Just like Tom.”

Abraxas’ last words were as quiet as a whisper but Lilia watched the expression on his face shift to something akin to longing. She was surprised that he knew about Tom’s blood status. She always assumed that he would have kept the fact hidden to maintain an air of supremacy. However, while the boy did seem to have an air of authority, he never imposed himself on his friends. If anything, they seemed to think highly of him because of his academic prowess. 

“Tom is a half-blood?” She asked, feigning ignorance about the matter.

“He is.”

“I always thought he was a pureblood.”

“I know. He is aristocratic in his own right, speaks politely and has impeccable manners. He could even be Minister of Magic if he wanted to.” Abraxas had a fond smile on his face as he talked about Tom and Lilia watched him carefully. 

Abraxas has always been very defensive of Tom and he always carried a wistful expression while speaking of the prefect. Was it possible that he had feelings for Tom? She had also noticed that he watched out for Tom more than the others. He was angrier at the idea that Lilia had almost killed Tom. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asked.

“Go ahead.”

She hesitated for a bit before deciding to just say it. 

“Do you have feelings for Tom?”

His eyes widened and the colour drained from his cheeks. He watched Lilia like she had suddenly grown nine heads. The silence between them stretched and grew heavy, making her shift uncomfortably. She mentally reproached herself. She shouldn’t have asked that question, what was she thinking? 

“That is unheard of. Why would I ever have feelings for another boy?” His voice was strained and he looked scandalised. Right, homophobia was more rampant in the forties.

“I’m sorry, I guess I just…” She didn’t even know what to say to explain herself.

“I take it you didn’t mean this as an insult?”

“No, no, it’s not an insult. Merlin. I’m sorry,” she stumbled over her words. 

“It’s all good then. I don’t know how things work in France,” Abraxas said stiffly, his tone clipped. “But here, you don’t ask a boy such… unnatural questions. It’s disgusting. I’m not like that. I’ll marry a girl one day, like I’m meant to, and continue the Malfoy line.”

“Right. I understand.” 

He sighed, “So you will come with us to my house?”

“I will.”

“Great. We can discuss more with the others tomorrow. And Lilia?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever bring up the question you asked me again.”

“I won’t.”

Lilia remained in the common room, cheeks slightly reddened in embarrassment as she watched the blonde guy walk away, unsure about whether she had crossed a line or not.

Abraxas left the common room and went back to his dorm, where Tiernan was fast asleep while Tom was sitting in his bed, a book in hand. “Did you talk to her?” Tom asked him, putting his book away and stretching slightly. “I did, and she said yes. Is she always usually there when you go out for a smoke?” “She is. I guess she doesn’t fall asleep easily.” “Just like you.” 

Tom gave Abraxas a small smile while the latter quickly looked away, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach. Abraxas got in bed and shuffled under his covers, a small shiver going up his spine even though his bed was warm.

“Goodnight,” Tom said in a calm voice.

“Goodnight, Tom. Try to get some more sleep.”

“I will.” The dark haired boy shifted his book on his bedside table and lied on his bed.

Abraxas cherished the fact that he got to see Tom unguarded. When his hair was not slicked away with hair gel and his cheeks were rosy from sleep. His curls fell loosely around his forehead and he had sleepy eyes in the morning. Tom wasn’t a morning person but he got up everyday because of Abraxas. The latter had been raised to wake up early and finish up everything for the day. 

Tom had been keen to learn about the unofficial rules of the Malfoy family and Abraxas had indulged him. He shuddered when he thought about Lilia’s question. His first reaction had been to say yes. Yes, Abraxas had feelings for Tom. Then, he felt sheer horror when he remembered that he would be shunned for it and his family would disapprove. It didn’t matter that he liked Tom: he was expected to marry a girl and produce an heir to continue the bloodline. That was just the way things were meant to be.

He had to be normal.

But Abraxas could still remember the feel of Tom’s hair beneath his fingers, the way it was softer than he expected. In those quiet moments, when Tom allowed himself to be vulnerable, Abraxas felt like he was seeing a side of him no one else ever would. But now, that same vulnerability filled him with dread. 

Tom had grown into someone untouchable, confident, commanding, the kind of person others followed without question. Abraxas couldn’t afford to feel this way about him. Not when he knew what was expected of him. Not when he had a legacy to uphold. He clenched his fists, as if the pressure could crush the ache in his chest.

Tom was curious about Lilia, even more so because she had directly experienced Grindelwald’s war. Tom didn’t want to be as barbaric as Grindelwald, he would never hurt people recklessly. 

He would just lead them all to power and together, the Knights of Walpurgis would be the most powerful wizards and witches to exist. Tom didn’t hide the fact that he was concerned about Lilia even while he disguised it as mere curiosity.

Abraxas fell asleep with a dull ache in his chest.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Lilia, I’m so happy that you said yes! We will have so much fun together. You’ll see, the Malfoy manor is massive. Their gardens are magically maintained, so flowers are always in bloom.” Celeste gushed happily while packing for the winter break, just like Lilia and Evangeline.

“I can’t wait to see it.” Lilia said with fake enthusiasm. 

In truth, the thought of returning to Malfoy Manor sent a cold shiver down her spine. Memories flickered unbidden: the glittering chandelier above her as she lay trembling on the living room floor, the echo of Bellatrix Lestrange’s laughter mingling with her own screams, the cold stone walls of the basement where Dolohov… No. She shook her head, squeezing her hands into fists to stop the trembling. That hadn’t happened yet, not in this time. She had to remind herself of that, even as her body remembered the pain all too vividly. 

They would meet in the common room at 9 in the morning the following day, a Friday. Then they would take the train out of Hogwarts to the King’s Cross Station. From there, they would take the floo port to the manor. For the first night, they would have dinner with Abraxas’ parents. For the rest of the nights, they would be by themselves since his parents would be out at different events. The Yule ball would happen on Christmas eve and then they would have the next week to themselves. 

“Gosh, Lilia. I can’t wait for you to meet my boyfriend,” Evangeline sighed dreamily.

“Just a warning, Lils. She will jump on him and kiss him with disgusting sounds from the moment they see each other.” Celeste shook her head.

“That’s not true!”

“Ask Tiernan. Last time we met him, he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth to himself. And missy Evangeline enjoyed it.”

Lilia chuckled, “I guess I’ll just say hi to him and run away then.” 

Evangeline’s boyfriend’s name was Dimitri and Lilia was mildly curious about the man since her friend never stopped gushing about how handsome he was and how happy he always made her. “Lilia, you will also meet Angie,” Celeste beamed.

“Who’s Angie?”

“A seamstress who works exclusively for the Malfoys. She will make our dresses for the Yule ball and the boys will also get their suits tailored. I’m so excited to get another dress from her, she is so good.” 

“How many dresses has she made for you?” Lilia asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Countless. I started attending the Yule balls at the Malfoy manor when I was 10.”

“How long have you known the Malfoys?”

“Honestly, all my life. Because we come from similar families, we are all pretty well connected. Eva and I used to have tea on Sundays together when we were younger. The boys also knew each other before we started at Hogwarts.”

So, Lilia was an outsider in their friendship dynamic.

“But we have you and Tom, Lils. You are our friends now, friends for life!” Lilia smiled at Evangeline’s warm words. She was allowed to start afresh with her new friends right? She had always thought that the people she met at Hogwarts in her time would be her friends for life. Back when she was still a naive 14 year-old girl, she thought that she would get married to Theo and she would still meet her friends despite their future busy jobs. 

But then, the war had happened and all those idealistic dreams faded. 

She could focus on her friends here and take it easy on herself. Cherish her memories and move on with her life, like Tom had said. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next morning, Lilia woke up earlier than usual. She had found it hard to fall asleep while her mind conjured up images of her time at the Malfoy manor with Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov. When she went to the bathroom to clean up, she looked terrible with dark circles and tired eyes. She brushed her teeth, drank a vial of calming draught with shaky hands then did some makeup. 

She had always disliked the way she seemed naturally devoid of life and colour. Makeup filled in those gaps in her appearance. She applied some red lipstick on her finger and dabbed it on her lips to give a more natural appearance. She did the same with her cheeks. Her brows were naturally thick and dark, so she just ended with powder. 

She stared at her hands for a minute, wondering how long it would take for the tremors to go away. Exposure for a few minutes took months to recover. She would obviously need more time, but how long exactly? Every time she remembered the fates of Frank and Alice Longbottom, it sent chills down her spine. She had to be grateful for the fact that she had somehow still made it out alive.

Lilia got dressed in a warm white turtleneck that she tucked in a long black woollen skirt that cinched at her waist and stopped below her knees. Fashion in the forties was cute to look at, but she doubted it would keep her warm. She was dreading the fact that she would have to wear a skirt out in the cold when they left for the train. 

Dumbledore had gotten her a decent selection of clothes that she could wear, including scarves, heels and boots. She pulled on some warm boots over the thick socks she was wearing and she twirled while looking at herself in the full sized mirror in her shared dorm. She looked nice. Lilia would have preferred her jeans and cosy jumpers, but she had to adapt to her time. This was the best she could do.

With her boots echoing softly against the stone floor, Lilia made her way down to the common room, hoping for a quiet moment before breakfast. She stopped abruptly in her tracks when she spotted Tom stepping out of his dorm. His sharp gaze caught hers, and for a fleeting moment, surprise flickered across his face before his usual calm expression returned.

“Lilia?” “Hey, Tom. You’re up early.” “So are you.” She swallowed when she took in the fact that he was also not wearing his uniform. He was wearing a dark green turtleneck and black dress pants. His hair was styled as usual, a single curly strand falling across his forehead. “I wanted to get some early breakfast,” she said, hoping that it wasn’t obvious that she had been staring at his clothes. “Me too. Do you want to head to the hall together?” “Sure.” 

“You look nice, Lilia.” With a slight blush and a small smile, she thanked him, “Thank you. You look very nice and handsome too.” “You think I’m handsome?” “Uh.. Yes,” she stumbled over her words, not expecting that question. “You never mentioned that before.” He had an infuriating smirk on his face and part of her wanted to smack it away while another part wanted to stare because he looked more attractive. 

“I thought it was obvious.” “Very well. You look beautiful too, Lilia. All the time.” His compliment made her blush a deeper shade of red and she looked down, wanting nothing more than to hide. Was he flirting with her? Merlin. Why did he look so nice and why did his voice make her feel somersaults in her stomach?

Tom laughed lightly when he took in her expression and Lilia looked up in surprise, finding a dimple on his left cheek. She watched him in disbelief. She had never noticed that he had a dimple. In fact, he barely laughed. His pink lips curled upwards and his eyes crinkled up, and Riddle suddenly looked younger than his age. His teeth were perfectly aligned and they were pearly white.

“You have a dimple,” she murmured, mesmerised by the sight in front of her. 

Tom Riddle was a beautiful boy. “I do.” He shrugged, his laughter fading into a smile. “Let’s go get breakfast now.” 

The hall was mostly empty. When they sat at the table, Lilia noticed him wearing a ring that she hadn’t seen before.

“Are you wearing a new ring?” She asked casually while helping herself to a cup of tea.

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“Oh, did your parents give it to you?” She asked the right questions, despite knowing the truth.

“My parents are dead, Lilia. But I met a relative this past summer. He gave me the ring and proceeded to murder my father and grandparents. I don’t know why. He’s in Azkaban now.” Lies.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” “It’s alright. I did not like how my father didn’t bother looking for me when my mother died. And he died too, so it doesn’t really matter. I don’t care. The man didn’t even want me.” He did care. Lilia saw the flash of hurt on his face before it fell back into its polished mask of indifference.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where did you grow up?”

“A muggle orphanage in London.”

“That must not have been easy, especially with the war.” Her voice was soft, and prompted him to share more of his feelings. “It wasn’t. But I found a home in Hogwarts. So it’s better now.”

Lilia had never given it a thought, but orphanages during this time period were notorious for being uncaring towards the children they sheltered. Her heart ached when she thought of a baby Tom not receiving the love that he deserved. He had most probably experienced some form of abuse too. The similarities between their upbringings were uncanny. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon used to hit her for not cooking food to their liking, and Lilia shared a broom closet with Harry. But she hadn’t been alone. Tom had. 

Before she could really stop herself, she reached out and squeezed his hand lightly, caressing softly with her thumb. “You are a strong person, Tom.” She smiled at him reassuringly. She meant every word. He had proven himself as a very powerful wizard, and it was admirable when she considered his very humble beginnings where he had to prove himself from the moment he stepped into the world. He did eventually become too consumed by dark magic, but she focused on him now. He was a gifted young man who wanted to make his mark on the world. The best student Hogwarts has ever had. 

Tom returned Lilia’s smile and sighed silently when she let go of his hand to butter her toast. He was glad that she felt comfortable enough with him to reach out and touch him. Yet, when she looked at him, he got the feeling that she knew more than she was letting on. He had nothing else to base this thought on, except for his gut feeling. It didn’t make sense, however.

Lilia was from France, how would she know about him? She hadn’t shown pity for the young man when he told her about how he grew up in an orphanage. If anything, it had seemed like she understood him. But Lilia had a family. Although, when he thought more about it, other than the time he heard her tell Dumbledore that her brother, Harry, had died, she never spoke of her family.

Tom didn’t know that the Gaunt family ring had the resurrection stone. Lilia chewed on her bread while she tried her best to be discreet when looking at his ring. The black stone adorned the golden ring innocently. It was his own trophy after killing off the father who abandoned him and his mother. Lilia knew about Merope Gaunt’s demise and she found it tragic. 

Tom’s mother only wanted to be loved. Tom himself believed in caring for his friends. So what turned him against the idea of love and sent him on a killing rampage? Lilia still couldn’t connect the dots between the fact that Tom and Voldemort were the same person. 

Her gaze lingered on the ring, trying to sense if there was anything off with the ring, but she did not pick up on anything. Shouldn’t she have felt the dark energy if it had been turned into a Horcrux? But then, maybe he had not turned it into one yet.

“You’re still drinking the pumpkin shake,” Lilia smiled as she watched Tom mix the juice with milk.

“I said I find it decent for a breakfast,” he grumbled with a small frown.

“Just admit it,” Lilia teased, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve introduced you to the greatest drink of your life.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Greatest? Hardly. I’d take butterbeer over this any day.”

Lilia gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Butterbeer? That sugary nonsense? You’ve clearly got no taste, Riddle.”

“Says the girl who practically worships pumpkin shake,” he countered, his voice as smooth as honey.

“Pumpkin shake has character,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Butterbeer is just liquid sugar.”

“Well, you are rather fond of sweet things,” he said, his smirk deepening.

Her cheeks flushed, but she refused to back down. “Sweet things are better than bitter ones, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.

Their friends gradually joined the table as the two of them kept arguing over butterbeer and pumpkin shake.

Abraxas felt the pang in his chest the moment he saw Tom smile at Lilia- a real smile. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away before the jealousy could twist his features. It wasn’t just that Tom’s attention was elsewhere; it was that he had never smiled at him like that. Not once. And yet, Abraxas knew he couldn’t let it show. Instead, he poured himself a cup of coffee, the bitterness matching the taste in his mouth.

Abraxas could confidently say that Tom was interested in the young girl. Why wouldn’t he? Abraxas knew Tom found Lilia intriguing. Tom had asked him to try not to be too harsh towards the girl because she was struggling with “ghosts of her past”. Tom wanted her to trust them so she would share more information about herself and even Grindelwald. 

Abraxas, however, also knew that he was genuinely interested in her. It was a double-sided situation: he wanted to find out what Lilia was hiding but he also wanted to know her personally. The Malfoy heir focused on his coffee while the two of them continued teasing each other.

When they finished breakfast, they all grabbed their trunks and met up in the common room, before heading down to the train station. As Lilia expected, even with a long, thick coat on, she was cold. It hadn’t snowed yet, but temperatures were almost freezing. 

The boys, being the gentlemen they were, helped the girls put away their trunk. Tom wordlessly took Lilia’s trunk to put it away. Then, they all sat together in a booth, which got very crowded since there were seven of them. 

“I will probably head out to see Nelia before she leaves.” Tiernan stretched, pushing into Icarus who was right next to him. Icarus groaned and smacked his arm away.

“Will you also go see Aurora?” Tom asked Abraxas, who hummed. “I will. We have some things to talk about.”

“Ah, the two Slytherins and their Ravenclaw girlfriends. You play right into a common pattern, my friends. Slytherin boys and Ravenclaw girls. Why is that a popular pairing?” Icarus wondered loudly. 

Lilia held back a smile. An interesting pattern, indeed.

“I don’t know, Icarus. I just want to see my girl.” Tiernan got up and made a small salute with his fingers to his head before leaving the booth. Abraxas followed suit, waving them goodbye and getting out of there quickly. He needed some time to gather his thoughts and end things with Aurora, especially since he was now more aware of his feelings for Tom after his talk with Lilia.

“Icarus and I are going to walk around the train and eat,” Celeste said, holding Icarus’ hand and making him get up.

“Are we?” He asked, puzzled.

“Yes, we are.” They both headed out, leaving Tom next to Lilia and Evangeline on the other side. “That was weird,” Evangeline commented. Her blonde hair looked more greyish under the light from the cloudy skies. 

“I’m gonna sleep a bit.” Lilia said, stretching slightly and letting her head fall back against the headrest.

“Sure. Rest well, Lils.”

Lilia mumbled a thank you to Evangeline and she was out like a light. When Tom heard her soft, even breathing, he shook his head. “She fell asleep just as quickly the first time I gave her a tour of the castle.” 

“Is that a fond smile I see on your face, Riddle?” Evangeline asked, her tone light.

“Not at all. It was insulting,” Tom replied smoothly, though the faint flush on his neck betrayed him.

She smirked, leaning back. “Right. If you say so.”

As if on cue, Lilia’s head lolled to the side with the swaying of the train and came to rest on Tom’s shoulder. She let out a soft groan, stirring as though to reposition herself, but Tom’s hand lightly held her head in place.

“Just sleep,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. Lilia adjusted herself against his shoulder, her hand finding his arm for support, and drifted back to sleep almost instantly. 

When Tom glanced up, Evangeline was watching him, a knowing smirk curling her lips.

“You were saying?”

“Shut up, Selwyn.”

Chapter Text

Lilia moaned softly, unconsciously holding on to Tom’s arm. His scent lingered, warm and oddly comforting. He was so warm and comfortable, and it wasn’t as bad as-

Wait, Tom’s arm?

Her eyes flew open, and she looked around. There was no one in front of her, and she looked down, seeing her hands intertwined around his arm. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she quickly sat up and let go.

“You’re up.” His voice broke through her panic, calm and steady, as he set down the book in his other hand and looked at her with an amused expression.

“Shit, Tom, I’m sorry for falling asleep on you.”

“Language, Lilia,” he chided softly. “And it’s no problem. I let you sleep. You were out like a light.”

“I’m so sorry, though. I-I should have known better. I didn’t want to inconvenience you in any way.” 

“You didn’t,” he said firmly. “Why would you be an inconvenience just because you fell asleep?”

“I-” she started, but he cut her off with a raised brow. “No more of that now, hmm?”

“Okay,” she replied reluctantly, fiddling with her scarf.

“Are you still cold?” Tom asked, watching her hands move while her mittens rested by the windowsill.

“Yes,” she admitted in a slightly whiny voice. “The skirt doesn’t help.”

His lips quirked upward. “Is that why you were holding on to me like a pillow?”

“Why yes, Riddle. You’re as warm as a furnace, and I don’t think it’s fair. Do you even get cold?”

He smirked. “You’re doubting whether I’m human now?”

“I am,” she grumbled, wishing he would just pull her into his arms. The thought mortified her, and she adjusted her scarf again, trying to shake it off.

“Well,” he said with a faint smile, “we’ll be at King’s Cross in about ten minutes. Prepare yourself for the cold again.”

“I hate this.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself after slipping her mittens back on. Hopefully, it would be a short walk to the floo port, and then they’d be inside the manor.

When she stepped off the train behind her friends, the freezing air hit her like a wall. She audibly gasped at the long line for the floo port. It would be at least fifteen minutes in the cold.

“Hold on to me, Lils,” Evangeline said, pulling her close. Lilia huddled against her, taking whatever warmth she could. She’d survived the wild with Harry, Ron, and Hermione while hunting horcruxes. Why couldn’t she bear this? It frustrated her, but she said nothing.

“Sweetheart, I am very warm too,” Icarus teased with a wink. Lilia frowned at him.

“Tom’s warm too, isn’t he?” Evangeline whispered, smirking.

Lilia’s cheeks turned red. Her friends had stopped teasing her about her crush on Tom after things had gotten tense between them, but comments like these felt strangely comforting. 

Maybe she really was losing her mind from the cold.

When it was finally their turn to use the floo, Abraxas went first. He stepped into the chimney and grabbed the floo powder before saying “Malfoy manor” in a firm voice and disappearing among the green flames.

They went in the following order: Abraxas, Tiernan, Icarus, Tom, Evangeline and Celeste.

When it was finally her turn, Lilia took a shaky breath in. She constantly reminded herself that she would be fine. The manor would most likely look different now, and maybe she wouldn’t even be able to recognise the place. She was safe in this time period, there was no one actively trying to hurt her.

She took the floo powder in her hand and held her trunk in the other. “Malfoy manor.” She dropped the powder and was instantly surrounded by green flames. She coughed when she made it to the chimney inside the Malfoy manor.

“What took you so long?” Celeste asked her, holding her arm and helping her step out.

“I was trying not to get the location wrong.”

“So cautious.” 

Her other friends were sitting around in the library, since that’s where the chimney was located.

Lilia looked at all the books surrounding her, very well aware that there were books that were centuries old on the shelves. The Malfoy library was among the largest ones that any pureblood family had, even during her time. Draco had boasted about it a lot. 

“You made it!” Tiernan cheered and got up. “I almost fell asleep.”

“Oh shut up,” Lilia said, rolling her eyes as they teased her for taking so long to reach the manor. They headed out of the library and Abraxas would be showing them their respective rooms. 

As they passed the living room, Lilia’s steps faltered. Her breath hitched sharply, her chest tightening as her eyes locked onto the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

It was unchanged, hauntingly familiar. The memories came rushing back, unbidden and relentless, and her breathing grew shallower with each step.

This was the place where she was tortured for hours.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There was a loud ringing sound in Lilia’s ears while she followed Abraxas. The tour was mostly meant for her since she had “never” been in his house before. Her movements felt mechanical and she was focusing on keeping her breathing regulated. 

She could hear her own screams, echoing in her mind as vividly as the day it happened. Bellatrix’s wand slashed through her skin with surgical precision, leaving her arms, legs, and chest bleeding profusely. The sickening snap of her ankle reverberated in her ears when the witch cast a spell to break her bones. And then came the cruciatus curse, so consuming it felt like every nerve in her body was being set ablaze, shrouding her in an endless storm of pain.

She couldn't distinguish between the gashes, the fractures, and the unbearable ache of the curse itself. It all blurred together into a single, overwhelming question that pulsed through her mind: How can the body take so much pain? It seemed like an odd thing to wonder in the middle of torture, but it was the only thought she could cling to amid the chaos.

When Bellatrix finally lifted the spell, the pain from her other injuries felt muted in comparison, almost distant. The witch with her wild curls and crazed eyes smiled in sadistic glee, savoring Lilia's suffering like a predator toying with its prey. She cast the cruciatus curse again and again, pausing only to heal Lilia’s body enough to repeat the cycle. The gashes reopened, the bones broke again, and the torment began anew, each time as excruciating as the first.

She hadn’t gotten used to the pain, not even close. Her tears had flowed freely, a river of despair she couldn’t stop, and her screams shredded her throat until her voice was hoarse and broken. Yet, somehow, she still found the strength to cry, to plead, to scream.

How much could the human body endure? She had wondered again, even as her very being threatened to shatter under the weight of it all.

Abraxas’ voice was muffled, distant, as she struggled to focus on him. Not here, not now.  

For a time, her nightmares had grown less frequent, and she had dared to believe she was healing. But she knew now she’d only been running. From her past, from her truth. And now she was back in one of the places that held the darkest, most painful memories of her life.

She was vaguely aware of herself sending empty smiles as Abraxas explained what rooms were where, nodding at his words without hearing them. When he finally showed her to her room, she practically ran inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.

Her trunk fell to the floor with a thud as she collapsed onto the bed, her breaths growing shallower with each passing moment.

Don’t panic. Not now.

It had been months since that day- technically years, if she counted her time travel. Shouldn’t she have been fine by now? The rational part of her knew the truth: this pain would never leave her. Not unless she confronted everything she’d buried.

But confronting it had never been an option. When she was tortured and raped, she hadn’t focused on healing.

Instead, she buried her pain beneath the needs of others. She comforted Hermione, reminding her she was the brightest witch of her age. She reassured Harry, insisting that what happened at Malfoy Manor wasn’t his fault.

She had barely noticed the tremors that overtook her body afterward. The constant shaking of her limbs, the sinking of her heart into her stomach. The first night, she’d slipped out of the cottage, sitting alone against a rock as the waves crashed below. Taking out her wand, she’d tried casting Lumos.

The spell had failed.

Her hands trembled too violently to perform the simple wand motion. Staring at her quaking fingers, blurred by tears, she broke down completely.

Hours passed in the cold before she finally returned to the cottage, too exhausted to do anything but collapse into a restless sleep. The next day, she had asked Harry to brew her a calming draught, refusing to elaborate.

She had buried her feelings so deeply she feared she would lose herself entirely if she let them out. She had cried when Harry and Remus died, but no one had comforted her.

Hermione had cried on her shoulder, Professor McGonagall had offered a hug, but Lilia was left to grieve alone. She had worn her strength like armor for so long that people had stopped seeing her pain.

Maybe they had even forgotten she could hurt, too.

The pain had never left. It had only buried itself deeper. Now, her chest tightened with familiar agony, her breaths shallow and uneven.

Breathe in, deep inhale. Breathe out, deep exhale.

Tom’s words and demonstration replayed in her mind. With shaking effort, she tried to mimic him, forcing the air into her lungs and back out again. After a few minutes, her breathing steadied, and she sighed heavily.

How had she convinced herself she could be happy here? That she could outrun the shadows of her past? She had been too eager for a fresh start, too willing to believe in a new pace of life.

Now, everything she had buried was clawing its way back, threatening to swallow her whole.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A loud knock resonated across the room and Lilia woke up with a start, hand automatically A sharp knock jolted Lilia awake. Her hand darted instinctively to her thigh, searching for her wand.

Panic flared when her fingers met nothing but fabric, but a quick glance at the bedside table brought a rush of relief. She exhaled shakily, her heart still racing.

“Coming!” she called out groggily, dragging herself off the bed.

Her limbs felt heavy, and she groaned softly as she opened the door. Evangeline stood on the other side, pulling her into a warm hug.

“Eva?” Lilia asked, her voice hoarse, her arms hesitantly wrapping around the taller girl.

“What were you doing? Celeste and I called out to you a few times, but you didn’t respond.”

“Sorry,” Lilia mumbled, stepping back. “I fell asleep.”

Evangeline tilted her head. “You didn’t sleep well last night?” “Not really. What time is it?”

“It’s 5 in the evening. Dinner will be served in an hour.”

Lilia blinked in surprise. Had she really slept for three hours? “Merlin, I didn’t realize it was so late. How should I dress for the dinner?”

“Formal, of course. The Malfoys are very strict about appearances,” Evangeline said, guiding her back into the room. “I’ll help you get ready. Celeste is busy arguing with Icarus over whether she needs to tone down her hairstyles.”

“That’s mean of Icarus.”

“I know, but they always argue. Abraxas’ parents hate non-traditional styles. Or anything non-traditional, really.”

It made sense. The Malfoys and Blacks were known for their orthodoxy in every aspect of life.

Lilia got dressed in a long-sleeved pastel pink dress that highlighted her curves and reached just below her knees. She paired it with white closed-toe heels. Evangeline experimented with a few hairstyles but ultimately decided to leave Lilia’s hair down. Eva added small pearl earrings and insisted on bold red lipstick.

“Young ladies are expected to look presentable and mature,” Evangeline said with a teasing smile, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

Lilia stared at her reflection in the mirror, her lips curving into a hesitant smile. She barely recognized herself.

Lilia Potter had always felt at home in jeans, cozy jumpers, and sneakers.

Lilia Rousseau, however, wore dresses, heels, and carried herself like a lady.

She could almost hear Draco snickering at the thought. Dressing up was fun in theory, but walking in heels? That was another story entirely.

“I’m terrible at walking in heels,” Lilia confessed.

“What?” Evangeline exclaimed, looking scandalized. “How is that possible? Every girl can walk in heels. What did they even teach you in France? Salazar save us!”

Lilia laughed nervously. “Well, I traded heels for... flats.”

“Flats?” Evangeline repeated, horrified. “Flats make you look terrible. Heels are elegant, Lilia! We don’t have time for lessons, but just remember this: small steps, and don’t put all your weight on the balls of your feet.”

Lilia nodded, though she wasn’t confident. They left the room, where Tiernan, Abraxas, and Tom were waiting.

Her gaze immediately locked on Tom. He wore a sharp black suit with a tie this time, and his hair had been brushed away from his face, accentuating the sharpness of his features. He looked older, more imposing, and handsome, as usual.

She noticed him fiddling with the ring on his finger. 

“How are you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?” Tiernan teased, grinning as he looked her up and down.

Lilia flushed at the new nickname. “Better. I was just tired.”

Before Tiernan could tease her further, Celeste and Icarus joined them, looking slightly flustered. Lilia didn’t bother checking whether they had come from the same room, but their reddened cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.

“Let’s head down,” Abraxas said curtly, leading the group toward the grand staircase.

Lilia clung to Evangeline’s arm as she carefully descended the stairs, her heels wobbling slightly with each step.

Tom followed behind, his gaze briefly lingering on her. He couldn’t see her face, but something about the way she hesitated near the living room struck him. Her movements stiffened, her shoulders tensing as if she were bracing herself. He frowned. Whatever had caused her reaction, it was worth noting.

When they entered the dining room, Abraxas’ parents were already seated. Mrs. Malfoy gestured to the table with a polite smile. “Please join us for dinner.”

Lilia took her seat between Evangeline and Celeste, with Abraxas, Tom, Tiernan, and Icarus seated across from them. She folded her hands in her lap, hoping to go unnoticed.

“It is so nice to have you all here with us,” Mrs. Malfoy began, her sharp blue eyes settling on Lilia. “I don’t believe we have met, have we, my dear?”

Lilia’s throat went dry. “No, we have not. My name is Lilia. Lilia Rousseau.”

“Rousseau. Are you from France?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Malfoy’s expression brightened. “Donc, vous parlez aussi le français? (So, you also speak French?) ”

“Oui, je parle français. (Yes, I speak French.) ”

“C’est un plaisir de vous avoir avec nous ce soir. J'espère que vous apprécierez votre séjour ici.  (It’s a pleasure to have you with us tonight. I hope you’ll enjoy your break here.) ”

“C’est un vrai plaisir d’être ici. (It’s a true delight to be here.) ” Lilia’s voice softened as Mrs. Malfoy gave her an approving smile.

“Abraxas, my dear,” Mrs. Malfoy said, turning to her son, “you should practice your French with Lilia.”

“Of course, Mother,” he replied, though his tone was clipped.

Lilia inwardly thanked her younger self for taking an early interest in French, a skill she had honed at Hogwarts with Dumbledore’s approval. She knew it would be useful, but she hadn’t expected it to save her at a Malfoy dinner.

The house-elves began serving food, their movements quiet and efficient. Lilia’s chest tightened when she spotted a familiar face among them: Dobby. He set a plate before her, his large eyes meeting hers briefly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, offering him a small smile. “Dobby only does duty, Miss Rousseau,” the elf replied, bowing slightly.

“Don’t bother thanking them, my dear,” Mrs. Malfoy interrupted. “They are just servants; they work for us.” She dismissed Dobby with a wave of her hand, and Lilia bit her tongue, her expression carefully neutral.

As Dobby walked away, her thoughts lingered on him. He would one day give his life for Harry. For her family.

The reminder that both he and Dumbledore were still alive warmed her, even if the moment was fleeting.

The first bite of food melted in her mouth. As expected, everything was exquisitely prepared. But her appetite faded when Mr. Malfoy spoke.

“I hear the muggle war is terrible right now,” he said gruffly, cutting into his steak. “Muggles would not hesitate to hurt their own kind. Selfish creatures, all of them.”

Lilia stiffened, her fingers tightening around her fork. She forced herself to take a sip of wine, hoping it would steady her.

“Grindelwald is coming for the Yule Ball,” Mr. Malfoy continued, “so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior.”

Lilia’s stomach churned. Another dark wizard wreaking havoc on the world. She couldn’t decide which was worse: Grindelwald or Voldemort. 

“Yes, sir,” the group replied in unison. Lilia flushed, embarrassed by her delay in responding.

“You can all meet him, especially you, Tom,” Mr. Malfoy added. “He will be pleased to meet someone as accomplished as you. He was impressed to hear you created a new spell.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tom said curtly, his tone polite and measured.

“We want Grindelwald to know we are on his side in this war,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Subduing muggles is the best way to ensure we remain superior in this world.”

Lilia’s grip on her fork tightened. The words left her mouth before she could stop them. “Muggles don’t actually believe in magic.”

The room fell silent.

Abraxas’ eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he turned toward her. Mr. Malfoy’s piercing gaze snapped to Lilia, sharp and unforgiving.

“What do you mean, child?” His voice boomed, reverberating through the room. Lilia’s pulse quickened as the weight of every gaze settled on her. Her knuckles whitened around her fork, and her voice faltered when she finally spoke.

“Is it really worth all the trouble when they don’t believe in magic anymore?” She asked, her words trembling as much as her hands. The silence was suffocating.

Tom’s eyes flicked to her, taking in the tension in her shoulders and the way she was squeezing her fork.

Then, with practiced ease, he intervened.

“What Lilia means,” he said smoothly, his tone even, disarming, “is that Grindelwald’s efforts might be better spent elsewhere. Building academies to teach the Dark Arts, for instance, would ensure that wizards remain far superior to muggles in the long run.” He leaned back slightly, his calm expression a stark contrast to the tension radiating around the table.

Mr. Malfoy’s brow furrowed, but his posture relaxed ever so slightly. “Of course, that makes sense,” he grunted, turning his gaze back to Lilia. “But muggles need to know that we exist. They need to understand our power and learn their place. Everyone knows about the Salem witch trials, for instance. They burned witches out of fear. It’s time they were reminded who the true rulers of this world are. This is why Grindelwald’s work is so important, so we no longer have to hide in the shadows.”

Lilia’s heart raced. She wanted to argue, to say something, anything but Tom’s warning glance stopped her. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded mutely, keeping her eyes on her plate. She could feel the weight of the room’s tension pressing down on her, but she didn’t dare speak again.

The dinner resumed, though the air was heavier now.

Lilia could feel Tom’s gaze on her intermittently, but she refused to look up. Her mind churned as she replayed the conversation, each word from Mr. Malfoy stinging like a barb. Was this how Voldemort had garnered support in the future? By appealing to this rhetoric of superiority and fear?

Her thoughts were interrupted when dessert was served, the sugary delicacies doing little to lift her spirits.

The others seemed to move past the earlier exchange with ease, engaging in casual conversation about the Yule Ball and Grindelwald’s expected arrival. But Lilia remained quiet, her appetite long gone.

After dinner, the group gathered in the Malfoy library, the grandeur of the room doing little to ease the tension hanging in the air. Shelves stretched to the ceiling, crammed with centuries-old books, their spines gleaming under the flickering light of enchanted lanterns.

Lilia stood near one of the shelves, her fingers absently trailing along the leather bindings. Her thoughts were still caught on the dinner conversation, each word from Mr. Malfoy gnawing at her.

Abraxas broke the silence first, his voice sharp and controlled. “Lilia,” he said, drawing her attention. She turned to find him standing stiffly near the fireplace, his arms crossed. “What were you thinking at dinner? I told you to be careful about what you say.”

She straightened, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t trying to cause trouble, but I meant what I said. Is it really worth exposing ourselves to muggles when most of them don’t even believe in magic anymore? The world has changed since the Salem witch trials.”

Abraxas let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his blond curls. “You don’t understand, Lilia. Muggles are dangerous. Their fear of what they don’t understand hasn’t changed. They’ve always turned on us when they felt threatened.”

“Not all muggles are like that,” she countered, her voice growing firmer. “You’re basing your entire worldview on the actions of a few people centuries ago. Muggles today aren’t the ones who burned witches at the stake.”

“And yet they’d do it again if they had the chance,” Abraxas shot back, his tone laced with bitterness. “They’d hunt us down the moment they learned we existed. That’s why Grindelwald is right. We need to establish our dominance before they have a chance to strike.”

Lilia’s jaw tightened, and her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Dominance? You’re talking about subjugating an entire group of people because of your own fear. That’s not strength. It’s tyranny.”

Abraxas took a step closer, his expression darkening. “And what would you do, then? Sit back and let them trample over us? Let them dictate the terms of our existence?”

“I’m saying there’s a middle ground,” Lilia replied, her voice steady despite the rising tension. “We don’t have to reveal ourselves, but we also don’t have to wage war on an entire population. The Statute of Secrecy has protected us for centuries. Why change that?”

“You’re naive if you think muggles won’t eventually find out,” Abraxas snapped. “Their technology is advancing faster than you realize. They’ll discover us one way or another, and when they do, they’ll destroy us.”

“That’s a what-if, not a certainty,” Lilia argued, her eyes blazing. “You’re justifying a war based on speculation.”

“Speculation?” Abraxas’ voice rose slightly, but Tom’s calm tone cut through the tension before it could escalate further.

“Enough,” Tom said, his voice low but commanding. He stepped forward, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Abraxas is right about one thing: the wizarding world is at a crossroads. The divide between us and muggles is growing, and pretending it doesn’t exist won’t make it go away.”

Lilia turned to him, frustration bubbling to the surface. “So, what’s your solution? To align ourselves with Grindelwald and his violent ideology? To abandon any sense of morality for the sake of power?”

Tom’s lips curved into a faint, almost amused smile. “Power is not inherently immoral, Lilia. It’s how we use it that defines us. Grindelwald offers us an opportunity, one that ensures our survival and strengthens our position in the world.”

“Survival,” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. “That’s just an excuse to justify cruelty.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, his composure seemed to waver. “You speak of morality as if it’s universal, but it’s a matter of perspective. What you call cruelty, others might call necessity. Grindelwald’s methods may be harsh, but his vision is one of unity: of ensuring that wizards and witches are no longer forced to live in the shadows.”

“That’s not unity,” Lilia said, her voice trembling with anger. “That’s oppression.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

Tiernan and Icarus exchanged uneasy glances, while Celeste shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Evangeline placed a calming hand on Lilia’s arm, but it did little to soothe her.

Abraxas broke the silence with a bitter laugh. “You think you can change the world with your naive ideals? The world doesn’t work that way, Lilia. You either adapt, or you’re crushed.”

“And is that what you’ve done?” Lilia shot back. “Adapted by selling out your conscience?”

Abraxas’ jaw clenched, but before he could respond, Tom raised a hand to silence him. His gaze fixed on Lilia, his expression unreadable.

“Enough,” he said again, though his voice was softer this time. “Lilia, you don’t have to agree with us, but you need to understand the reality of the world we live in. Our families expect us to uphold their legacies, to ensure the wizarding world’s survival.”

“Survival at what cost?” She whispered, more to herself than to him.

Tom didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Sometimes, the cost is irrelevant when the alternative is extinction.”

Lilia stared at him, her chest tightening with a mix of frustration and sadness. She couldn’t understand how someone so intelligent, so capable, could believe in such a destructive path. But the conviction in his voice left no room for doubt. He truly believed what he was saying.

“You don’t have to agree,” Tiernan said softly, breaking the silence. “But this is the world we live in, Lilia. Our families expect us to carry on their legacies, whether we like it or not.”

Lilia sighed, her shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of her. “I understand,” she said quietly, though the words felt hollow.

As the others returned to their conversations, Lilia sank into an armchair near the window, staring out at the darkened grounds. She felt isolated, a lone voice of dissent among her friends.

Across the room, Tom watched her, his dark eyes studying her intently. There was something about her, something he couldn’t quite place. But one thing was certain: Lilia Rousseau was not like the others.

Chapter Text

Lilia stood in the clearing behind Malfoy Manor, the biting cold nipping at her cheeks despite the layers she’d bundled herself in.

The forest loomed behind them, dense and dark, like a warning of the dangers that lurked beyond. Abraxas had already cautioned her about the possible werewolves, but the forest wasn’t what worried her.

It was the group standing before her, future Death Eaters, and a future Dark Lord, waiting for her to teach them how to duel.

“Well, don’t you look snug,” Icarus teased, his tone playful but edged with arrogance.

“What can I do if I get cold easily?” Lilia grumbled, her breath misting in the air as she approached. Her gaze swept over the group: Tom stood calm and collected, his wand hanging loosely at his side, while Tiernan and Icarus exchanged smug grins. Evangeline and Celeste looked eager but focused, and Abraxas stood slightly apart, his expression unreadable.

Lilia sighed and clutched her wand tighter. “Alright, let’s get started. I want to see what you’ve got. Show me the spells you’ve practiced outside of class.”

Without hesitation, Icarus stepped forward, his grin widening as he flicked his wand toward Tiernan. “Petrificus Totalus!” He called out, the spell hitting its mark with a loud crack. Tiernan’s body stiffened before he toppled over, landing flat on his back with a muffled groan.

Lilia inhaled sharply, biting back a grimace. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

Icarus smirked. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m just getting started.” He flicked his wand again, this time summoning a shimmering serpent from a flash of light. The snake coiled and hissed menacingly, its eyes gleaming as it lunged toward Tiernan, who barely managed to cast a shield charm in time.

“Diffindo!” Tiernan shouted, his wand slicing through the air. The snake’s head was severed in an instant, its body collapsing into ash.

Tiernan scrambled to his feet, glaring at Icarus. “You’re lucky that wasn’t real.”

“Am I?” Icarus quipped, laughing.

Before Lilia could respond, Abraxas stepped forward. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He raised his wand toward a tree on the edge of the clearing and shouted, “Expulso!” The tree exploded with a deafening crack, shards of wood flying in all directions.

The group instinctively drew up shields to block the debris.

Evangeline was next, her expression cool and focused. She pointed her wand at Celeste. “Locomotor Mortis!” She called, binding Celeste’s legs together. Celeste fell with an audible groan, landing on the frosted ground.

Lilia barely had time to process Evangeline’s spell before she felt a curse racing toward her. Instinctively, she raised her wand and cast a shield charm, but part of the spell still grazed her leg, sending a sharp sting through her skin. She looked up to see Tom lowering his wand, his calm expression betraying nothing.

“Oh, we’re playing that game, are we?” She muttered, her grip tightening on her wand. “Reducto!” She shouted, aiming at Tom.

Tom deflected the spell effortlessly, his movements precise and deliberate. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he said, his voice calm but laced with challenge.

Spells crackled through the air like lightning, their wands moving in a blur. Tom’s precision was unnerving; his spells were calculated, each one designed to probe her defenses.

Lilia retaliated with swift counter-curses, her movements fluid and practiced. The others had stopped to watch, the tension in the air thick as the two circled each other.

Lilia was about to call for a break when she felt something crawling up her legs. She glanced down and froze in horror. Roots were snaking up from the ground, coiling around her legs and tightening like shackles. Her heart raced as she aimed her wand downward and cast a blasting curse, shattering the roots and sending splinters of wood flying.

A flicker of surprise crossed Tom’s face, but he quickly masked it. He cast another spell, a stinging hex, aimed at her face.

Lilia barely managed to raise a shield, but the edge of the spell sliced across her cheek, leaving a thin, stinging cut.

“Enough!” She snapped, her voice unusually sharp as she glared at him. “I get it, Riddle. You’re talented, but did you really need to cut my face?”

Tom’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I apologize. I was simply testing your limits.” She narrowed her eyes, recognizing the lie in his tone. He wasn’t sorry. If anything, he looked pleased with himself.

It grated on Lilia’s nerves.

She was the one who had fought in a war, not him. It had been stupid of her to underestimate his abilities. He was a future dark lord. That time she almost killed him might have been a one-off. Riddle could dual better than she anticipated.

Before she could retort, Celeste hurried over and cast a healing charm on her cheek, the cut vanishing instantly.

“So, what do you think?” Celeste asked, her tone eager.

Lilia exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “Well, you’ve got the spells, but you lack speed and precision. In a real duel, your opponent won’t hesitate or hold back. You’ll need to be faster, sharper, and less predictable.” She gestured to their coats and boots. “And you can’t duel properly dressed like this. Your movements are restricted. You need clothes that allow for flexibility.”

They all nodded thoughtfully.

Lilia continued, “And one more thing. You need to work on your stamina. Duels can last a long time, and you’ll need the endurance to keep up.”

“What about wordless magic?” Tom asked, his voice raspier in the morning air. Her stomach twisted at the sound, butterflies emerging and she made it a point to ignore the way her own body betrayed her. 

Lilia nodded. “Yes, wordless magic is crucial. Calling out your spells gives your opponent an advantage. If you can cast silently, you’ll have the upper hand.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Icarus grumbled, ruffling his hair. “It’s impossible.” 

“It’s not impossible,” Lilia said firmly. “You’re just not desperate enough to master it.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. The others exchanged glances, but no one spoke. Tom, however, nodded slightly, his dark eyes fixed on her.  “We’ll work on that.” 

As they headed back to the manor, Lilia couldn’t stop her mind from racing. She had just taught a group of future Death Eaters how to become more dangerous. The irony wasn’t lost on her, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Tom walked a few steps behind her, his mind similarly preoccupied. He hadn’t used the darker spells he knew, spells that could unravel her carefully guarded composure. But the temptation lingered like a shadow in the back of his mind.

Who was Lilia Rousseau, truly? And what would it take to peel back her carefully guarded layers, to expose the truths she fought to conceal? He had so many questions that were still unanswered, even though it had been three months since he knew her.  

Lilia couldn’t escape the bitter irony of her situation. She had, knowingly or not, become a tutor to those who would one day bring chaos to the world, a reality that gnawed at her with every spell she cast.

And yet, what was her alternative?

She didn’t have a plan or a goal, just fragments of regrets and half-formed wishes. She had almost killed Tom Riddle once. Shouldn’t she have gone through with it? Wouldn’t it have been worth a life sentence in Azkaban to save the future she’d lost?

Her mind spiraled into the possibilities. Her parents would be alive, and she would have grown up in Godric’s Hollow with Harry by her side. Weekends at Hogsmeade, laughter around the family table- it all felt achingly close, yet irretrievably distant. There would have been no wars, no Voldemort, no shattered lives. She could have dated Theo, maybe even married him after Hogwarts. Perhaps she’d have become a healer, visiting Hagrid to learn about magical creatures. And maybe, someday, she would have had a family of her own.

The fragile warmth of her wishful memories faded, overtaken by the cold reality as she trailed her friends back to Malfoy Manor.

You have your mother’s kindness, Lilia. Snape’s final words echoed in her mind, heavy with the weight of his dying breath as he slipped away in her arms.

She hadn’t slept properly for weeks after witnessing him die. That moment, the realization of her kindness and its cost, had haunted her ever since.

Kindness, she now believed, was both her greatest strength and her deepest flaw. It had led her to trust Theo, despite knowing his father was a proud Death Eater. Theo wasn’t his father, and that had been enough for her.

But had her gentleness made her seem indifferent? Weak? She didn’t lash out, even when hurt, because she knew too well the scars words could leave. Her childhood with the Dursleys had taught her that.

And now, she was giving Tom Riddle and his friends the same chance. Against her better judgment, she found herself seeking their good side.

Especially Tom’s.

Tom Riddle was nothing like the monster she’d been warned about. He was surprisingly kind, even comforting, a stark contradiction to the stories she had heard. If anything, he seemed to feel far more than he let on.

During their duel, she could tell that he had been holding back. Perhaps it was obvious he wouldn’t reveal his full strength in front of their friends, but this couldn’t be all he knew.

A small pang struck her chest as she remembered how he hadn’t attacked her when she tried to kill him.

How did that careful, intelligent boy become the darkest wizard who ever lived?

Tom Riddle was precise, composed, and calculating: everything Voldemort, in his madness, would abandon.

She shivered slightly as they entered the manor.

Was her kindness really a weakness?

When they walked back into the manor, Abraxas’ parents were nowhere to be seen, but breakfast awaited them, served neatly by the house elves. They shrugged off their coats, the warmth inside a sharp contrast to the frigid morning.

Lilia shivered again; her long skirt did little to warm her legs the way her turtleneck shielded her upper body. The chill seemed to burrow deeper, mirroring the doubts that gnawed at her mind.

Was her kindness truly a weakness, or was it the only thing keeping her from becoming like them?

She joined the others at the table, her responses to their conversations automatic and hollow. She didn’t possess the ability to be cruel, even to those who deserved it. It wasn’t in her nature. Perhaps that made her seem weak, a pushover. But the thought of her words cutting someone as deeply as she had been cut herself was unbearable.

For now, they had agreed on a tentative schedule to keep their days productive. Mornings would be spent practicing dueling, followed by breakfast, then afternoons left for their own pursuits until dinner. The days between Christmas and New Year would be relaxed, a time to rest and prepare before the new school term. Angie was due to arrive the next day to take their measurements for formal wear for the Yule Ball.

After breakfast, Lilia wandered to the library. Her fingers grazed the shelves as she searched, hoping to find something, anything, on time travel. She skimmed through books on ancient and darker magic, but none held the answers she sought.

Had her case been a one-off? Had others been sent back in time only to disappear forever? Did she even want to return to a future ravaged by loss and chaos?

A pang of guilt settled in her chest.

She felt safer here, in this fractured past, where nothing had yet happened to those she loved. There was no Voldemort, only Grindelwald, and even he lacked the madness that had defined her future’s dark lord.

Her search bore no fruit. Frustrated but barely surprised, she finally settled on a familiar title: The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Her fingers lingered over the embossed cover, its simplicity masking the weight of its secrets. A children’s tale, yet it held the key to the Deathly Hallows.

Would Voldemort have made horcruxes if he’d known of the Hallows first? The Resurrection Stone, now part of Tom’s ring, had not yet been defiled. She’d helped track it down in her time, intending to destroy it. Here, it was just a ring.

“I didn’t take you for one to like fairy tales,” came a voice, smooth and familiar.

Lilia jumped slightly, turning to find Tom watching her, a book in his hands. “I was just browsing,” she said, clearing her throat.

“Right.”

“What are you reading?”

“Just a random book I found.” He tilted it slightly, hiding the title from view.

Suspicious, but she didn’t press. “Nothing about you is random, Riddle.”

“And you would know that because?”

“I just know.”

Tom studied her for a moment, his gaze unreadable yet somehow betraying his curiosity.

Between her moments of vulnerability, her mysterious past, and the flashes of darkness he had sensed in her magic, she was an enigma he couldn’t unravel. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he wanted to tell her about Myrtle, about the weight pressing at the edges of his composure.

But it was a foolish notion. She would never align with his vision, not with her maddening principles. It was a pity because she would have been a fine addition to his group with her skills and experiences.

“See you later, Lilia.” He nodded slightly and turned to leave.

Lilia’s breath caught as her gaze fell to the book in his hands.

The gilded letters gleamed ominously, as though the tome itself exuded a dark power. 

Secrets of the Darkest Arts.  

Chapter Text

Tom sat at the desk in his room, the dim glow of a single candle casting shadows across the walls.

The marked page before him seemed to pulse with its own dark energy, the words etched into the  parchment holding promises both alluring and terrifying. He had stayed up long after the others had gone to bed, unable to sleep.

Secrets of the Darkest Arts was more than a book: it was a lifeline. Its pages held the answer to the fear that had gripped him since he could remember: death.

Death had always been there, a silent specter in his life.

From the moment his mother abandoned him to the orphanage to the times he had crouched in the rubble of Muggle London, planes roaring overhead and bombs reducing entire streets to ash. He hated how muggles created chaos with their inventions: bombs, rifles, warplanes, tools of destruction wielded without thought. They didn’t hesitate to kill each other, like savages.

And yet, he realized, he wasn’t so different.

When Lilia almost killed him, Tom had felt that specter looming closer than ever. He had survived by playing it safe, by carefully hiding his darker ambitions from the watchful eyes of Dumbledore and the professors. Even his Knights had seen only glimpses of his true potential.

But Lilia, she had not hesitated, not flinched. Her curse had cut through his defenses with the precision of someone who had fought for her life before.

That duel had been an awakening. He was vulnerable, and he despised it.

He stared at the book before him.

Horcrux.

The word itself seemed to hum with power. Herpo the Foul had created one and lived for centuries, his name etched into history alongside the first basilisk. Immortality lay within reach, but the act required was unthinkable. He had already done the unspeakable: four lives taken by his hand. And yet, it hadn’t worked.

He sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples. The regret gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the weight he carried.

When he killed his father and grandparents, he had fallen to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He had hoped, naively, desperately, that his father might acknowledge him, might call him "son." But instead, Tom Riddle Sr.’s face had twisted with disgust, his rejection cutting deeper than any curse. Staring at their lifeless bodies, Tom had wondered if persistence might have changed things. Would they have grown to love him if he had tried harder?

Then there was Myrtle Warren. Her death haunted him in ways he didn’t fully understand. He could still hear her trembling voice, her last words before she died: "I want you to leave me afterwards, Tom." He hadn’t meant for her to die. The basilisk had obeyed his command, but he hadn’t anticipated the cost. He had stood frozen, staring at her lifeless form, the glassy eyes that would haunt his dreams for weeks.

Love was a stupid thing. He told himself he was above it, that he didn’t need it. But deep down, he craved it.

His mother’s love for his father had killed her.

Myrtle, someone he had cared for more than he cared to admit, was gone.

His father, whose approval he had longed for, was dead by his own hand.

Love and death were intertwined in his life, inseparable, inevitable. And Tom hated how it made him feel. Weak, vulnerable, human.

He shut the book with a loud thud, the sinking feeling in his stomach threatening to overwhelm him. Immortality was the only escape, but could he truly take the final step? Could he sever his soul, knowing the regret and pain that already consumed him? He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. 

It was always death. No matter how far he ran or how much power he amassed, it was always waiting for him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The following day, Angie came to the Malfoy manor. She was a tall woman, dressed in a gown of the finest silk and Lilia shuddered at the sight. She was the image of an elegant and poised woman who formed part of the elite.

“Lilia, it’s your turn.” She nodded at Evangeline’s words and went inside the room that Angie had designated as her fitting room. All seven of them had been waiting outside to go inside, one by one. Lilia didn’t understand why that was necessary. Couldn’t they all just get their measurements taken together? Surely, there couldn’t be anything else. 

“Remove your clothes,” Angie said, quickly scribbling down on her notebook.

Lilia’s eyes widened as she felt dread seeping into her stomach. “What?”

“I need to get your measurements,” the seamstress clarified with a click of her tongue, slightly annoyed. That’s why they needed to get this done individually. She gulped loudly, worried about the scars that she hadn’t concealed on her body.

“I- I can’t-”

“Oh, child, don’t fret. I’m only here to take measurements. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

Lilia’s chest tightened at the thought of someone seeing her body. The older woman must have noticed the shift in her mood because she immediately softened. “Your name is Lilia, right?”

“Yes.”

“I am just here to do my job, not to judge you.”

Lilia’s hands trembled slightly as she removed her turtleneck and skirt, the cool air prickling her skin. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her feeling exposed and raw, as though every scar on her body was a story she wasn’t ready to tell. 

Angie’s sharp intake of breath filled the room, and Lilia braced herself for the questions that might follow.. She knew the picture that Angie was seeing: countless scars across her upper body. She shivered as she stood in her underwear, arms crossed to keep her warm. 

"You poor child,” Angie whispered, her voice barely audible. She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing over a particularly deep scar as though trying to understand its origin. Lilia flinched but didn’t pull away, her throat tightening at the unexpected tenderness. Angie’s touch was featherlight, but it felt like a weight pressing against her soul.

Lilia hadn’t expected pity, and it left a strange taste in her mouth. She didn’t know whether to feel grateful or resentful. Pity didn’t heal scars, but it didn’t hurt, either. It just lingered, like a shadow of something she couldn’t quite name.

“What happened to you?”

“The war.”

Angie nodded and took her measurements. Lilia heard the seamstress’ breath halting when she moved to her back, seeing all the scars that she sustained from the torture at Bellatrix’s hands. 

As Angie worked, Lilia’s thoughts flickered back to Tom and the book in his hands. He had already started down the path toward immortality, hadn’t he? The scars on her body were proof of what that road would lead to, and yet, somewhere deep inside, she couldn’t stop wondering: was it too late to change him?

When Angie had taken her measurements, Lilia was more than happy to get dressed.

“I will make you a dress that will cover you up well. What do you think of puff sleeves?”

“I like the idea.”

“Okay. Puff sleeves. I am thinking of a burgundy colour to compliment your skin. You will all be wearing long dresses, but I will add some extra ruffles to yours.” Lilia smiled uncertainly at the seamstress.

“Take care, Lilia.”

“You too, Angie.” 

When Lilia headed out, Celeste went in after her.

She didn’t know what to make of Angie’s reaction. The lady had definitely pitied her, but she hadn’t probed and she was grateful for that. It was strange that the sight of her body had not triggered the visceral reaction that Lilia had anticipated. She had spent so long loathing the jagged lines and raised ridges that mapped her skin, each one a memory of pain and survival. To see someone look at her with something other than revulsion, or worse, indifference, felt strange, almost alien.

Pity wasn’t what she wanted, but perhaps it was better than what she deserved.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The rest of the days were uneventful. The only difference was that her friends were now more comfortable with using darker spells while they practised dualling. 

Lilia shuddered as she watched Celeste casting a spell at Icarus, which caused blood to come out of his eyes, nose, mouth and ears. Tiernan attacked Evangeline with a spell that made her choke even though nothing was visible to the naked eye. The spell that Tom cast on Abraxas caused the blonde boy to fall to the ground with a sickening crack as all his bones seemed to be trying to poke out from underneath his skin.

Lilia watched them use the spells that they had been holding back, discomfort lodging itself deep in her body.

They smirked and laughed while they cast pretty dangerous curses at each other. It didn’t seem to bother them. Lilia felt the weight of their laughter settle over her like a shroud. How could she feel so at ease with them when their cruelty mirrored the very people she had fought against? It was a cruel irony: the same hands that offered her warmth and friendship now would, in her time, tear families apart.

But she couldn’t help it. She needed them, their banter, their camaraderie, because without it, the silence of her memories would drown her.

The Malfoy family had a healer who came to check in on them regularly to make sure they were not sustaining irreparable damage. Every spell they cast felt like a ghost of the war, a chilling reminder of the curses she had seen Death Eaters use on her friends.

She shook when Tom cast a curse on Tiernan, which caused the skin on his hand to start peeling off. It had been the exact spell a death eater had used on Neville in one of their countless encounters. Lilia had spent hours with Hermione in their safehouse, trying to lessen his pain as the curse spread throughout his body. Their only solution had been to cut off the infected limb to prevent it from spreading throughout his body. 

Lilia had thrown up right after she had performed this operation with Hermione and Madame Pomfrey. They had run out of essence of dittany because there were so many injured people and she had to keep Neville awake even as they amputated his left leg. Neville’s screams echoed in her mind, and Lilia had to physically stop herself from retching. She could still smell his blood on her hands, could still feel how sticky it was.

She hurried to the mansion and ran upstairs to her bathroom, slamming the door behind her and throwing up bile. 

Her 'friends' were the first Death Eaters. The same crazed look burned in their eyes as they hurled curses at one another, no different from the masked figures who had haunted her past.

Lilia made it a point to occlude before each practice. Not only did it sharpen her focus, but it helped her suppress the flood of memories that threatened to consume her. Memories of the loved ones she had lost, lives destroyed by the same people she now called her friends.

It was a strange kind of punishment, being surrounded by ghosts disguised as allies. She should have been disgusted with them, their arrogance, their budding cruelty, but instead, she clung to the moments of normalcy they offered. They made her laugh, and they filled the emptiness that had settled in her since arriving here. She hadn’t realized how much she needed them until she risked their friendship by nearly killing Riddle.

It was her greatest flaw: the relentless need to see the good in people, even when it was buried beneath layers of darkness. She ignored the bad, pushed it aside, even as it gnawed at her- a quiet, insistent voice reminding her of who they truly were and who they would become.

Lilia used dark curses too when she dueled with them, and most of her friends were surprised by her methods. They couldn’t identify the curses she used; her magic was subtle, rooted in creativity rather than sheer force. She focused on the environment around her, manipulating it to attack indirectly rather than aiming at her opponents. It was her way of ensuring she wouldn’t truly harm them. She didn’t want to risk altering the course of time.

Her duels with Tom were by far the hardest. He was calm and calculated, wielding his wand with precision that bordered on infuriating. Every flick of his wrist seemed to anticipate her next move, catching her off guard time and again. She knew it was just practice, but it grated on her. How was it fair that he was so skilled when she was the one who had fought for her life in a war?

She fell flat on her back with a loud groan of pain, blood pouring from a deep laceration on the back of her knee, a precise hit from Tom, despite him casting the spell from the front. Her body was littered with scratches and bruises from hours of dodging his relentless attacks. Tom wasn’t unscathed either. He had severely underestimated her ability to manipulate the environment. She had weaponized tree roots, soil, grass, and even dew. When she transformed the tiny droplets into razor-sharp blades, they had left countless shallow cuts across his face and upper body, a testament to her ingenuity.

“Giving up already?” Tom asked, an insufferable smirk on his lips as he approached.

Lilia sat up, wincing in pain as she stretched her injured leg. Her skirt had ridden up, exposing her thigh where blood streamed down her skin. His eyes flicked briefly to the sight before meeting hers again, his smirk unwavering. “Fuck off, Riddle,” she grunted, her tone sharp as she fought through the sting of the wound.

“Let me heal it,” he offered smoothly, kneeling down beside her. His wand moved expertly over the injury, a soft glow emanating from its tip.

Lilia sat awkwardly, leaning all her weight on her left side, her arms braced against the ground for support. Her leg stretched out in front of her as she tried to stay still, her skirt bunched up just above her knees. Tom’s gaze lingered a fraction longer than necessary, but he said nothing. The curve of her body, the slight flush on her cheeks from the exertion, it was distracting, but he refocused on her wound, his jaw tightening subtly.

“All done,” he said finally, his voice steady as he stood.

“Thanks for offering to help me up,” she mumbled, adjusting her skirt and shooting him an irritated look.

Tom chuckled lightly and leaned in, his hands gripping her shoulders as he helped her to her feet. The ease with which he lifted her left her momentarily speechless. She was enveloped in the scent of mint, a clean sharpness that made her head spin.

She looked up at him, her cheeks tinged with a blush she couldn’t suppress. Tom held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary before releasing her with a smirk. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, the hint of amusement in his tone almost maddening.

She had never imagined Voldemort, the Voldemort, could be annoyingly charming, but here she was, blushing like a schoolgirl at his proximity.

“You’re such a charming prince, aren’t you?” Evangeline teased and Tom simply maintained his infuriating expression. Eva looped her arm through Lilia’s as they began walking back to the manor.

“He just helped me up after he injured me,” Lilia protested, rolling her eyes.

“Hmm. Explains why you’re blushing like a tomato,” Evangeline shot back with a grin.

“Don’t tease her so much, Eva,” Celeste interjected, though the amused look she exchanged with Evangeline told Lilia there was more they weren’t saying.

“What is it?” Lilia asked suspiciously, glancing between the two girls.

“Nothing important, Lils. I’m just looking forward to breakfast!” Celeste chirped, her voice deliberately airy as she quickened her pace toward the manor.

Lilia frowned but decided not to press further.

The Malfoy estate was as enchanting as she’d been told. Despite it being December, the gardens were vibrant with life. Flowers bloomed in a riot of colors, their fragrance carried on the crisp air. Birds flitted between the trees, their chirping a gentle melody that should have soothed her.

But all Lilia could think of was how different the garden had been when she had last been brought to the manor. That day, there had been no flowers, no life. The sky had been gray, the plants withered and lifeless. Everything had reflected her own broken state as she endured the torture that still haunted her.

She swallowed hard, the memory tightening her chest as she walked through the vibrant garden. The contrast was jarring, a cruel reminder of how the past and present could coexist so painfully.

Chapter Text

All too soon, it was already the eve of the Yule Ball. The elves were scattered across the Malfoy manor, bustling with last-minute preparations under Mrs. Malfoy’s watchful eye. The living room had become a forbidden zone, except, apparently, for Lilia.

Descending the staircase for breakfast on a gloomy Friday morning, she was surprised to find the house unusually quiet.

“Ah, Lilia. Thank Merlin you’re here,” Mrs. Malfoy sighed, relief evident as she spotted her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy. Where is everyone?” Lilia asked, glancing around the deserted hall.

“Hiding away in their rooms or conveniently disappearing elsewhere. Wherever they are, they’re out of my sight. Now, young girl, have some breakfast first. Would you mind helping me set up the place for tomorrow’s ball? Usually, I would handle the decorations myself, but my husband has made some last-minute changes to his plans, and we’ll be away tomorrow morning.”

“Of course, I’d love to help! Let me eat quickly, and I’ll be right with you.”

“Nonsense, take your time, my dear,” Mrs. Malfoy insisted, her tone uncharacteristically warm. “Make sure to eat something warm, it’s particularly cold today.” Lilia nodded, a bit taken aback by the care in her voice. She hadn’t expected such warmth from a Malfoy.

After inhaling her hashbrowns and tea, Lilia hurried to the living room, where Mrs. Malfoy was instructing Dobby on where to hang a decorative snowflake. The room was already a sight to behold: glittering snowflakes dangled from the railings, and the middle of the vast living room had been cleared, clearly intended as the dance floor. Pots of flowers added bursts of red, green, white, and silver, complementing the snowy theme.

“What do you think of the decor, Lilia?” Mrs. Malfoy asked, gesturing toward the room with an air of pride.

Lilia’s eyes lit up as an idea sparked in her mind. “Mrs. Malfoy, if I may, I’d like to show you something we could add.”

“Go ahead, my dear.”

With a wave of her wand, Lilia conjured fluffy clouds that drifted lazily along the ceiling. She enchanted the space to reveal a star-filled night sky, complete with glimmering constellations. Finally, she added a delicate illusion of snowflakes falling softly through the air. The room transformed into a breathtaking winter night.

“Salazar,” Mrs. Malfoy whispered, stepping forward to take it all in. Her gaze was fixed on the shimmering stars above, her lips parting slightly in awe.

“What do you think?” Lilia asked, biting her lip nervously.

“My dear,” Mrs. Malfoy began, her voice reverent, “this is magnificent. I love it!”

Relief washed over Lilia, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Call me Estrella, please,” she said warmly. “You are phenomenal, young girl.”

“It’s not much. I used to experiment with charms like these with my friends. We loved stargazing.”

“Well, it’s simply wonderful. Our guests will be enchanted tomorrow evening.”

Lilia beamed. “I’m glad you like it, Estrella.”

“Abraxas could learn a thing or two from you.”

Lilia chuckled. “I’m sure he could.”

She turned her gaze back to the ceiling, her breath catching as she noticed Tom Riddle standing on the balcony above, staring at the enchanted sky. The soft starlight reflected in his eyes, making them seem brighter, sharper. His features, so carefully sculpted and impossibly handsome, appeared even more striking under the ethereal glow. He was watching the snowflakes fall with a rare expression of wonder, but soon, his dark gaze shifted to her.

Their eyes locked. Neither looked away.

Lilia’s heart stuttered as she realized how utterly captivating he was beneath the starry sky. He reminded her of the night itself: dark, brilliant, and dangerous.

Tom, in turn, couldn’t pull his eyes from her face. She looked radiant, almost otherworldly, as though she belonged under a sky full of stars.

The moment stretched taut until Lilia forced herself to break eye contact, heat rising to her cheeks. How could her mind so easily forget the horrors she had endured because of this same man? Memories of dodging deadly spells, of tending to friends broken by death eaters, slammed into her. Her throat tightened, burning with suppressed emotion. She bit down hard on the wave of anguish, turning to the mental discipline Harry had helped her master.

Occlumency. She focused, building walls in her mind with painstaking care, forcing herself to feel nothing. It was a skill honed in the darkest of times, a safeguard against enemies and, sometimes, against herself.

Bellatrix’s cackle echoed faintly in her memory, and her fingers twitched at the phantom pain of torture. She shut her eyes tightly, forcing the thoughts away. Whatever Bellatrix Lestrange had broken in her, Lilia vowed it would stay buried.

For now.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Later that day, Lilia met her friends in the library, where they had all gathered around the fireplace. The warm glow of the fire reflected on their faces, but the tension in the room was palpable. Tom stood at the center, his posture commanding as he addressed them.

“As you all know, Grindelwald will be in attendance tomorrow,” Tom began, his voice steady and authoritative. His dark eyes swept over the group, meeting each of theirs in turn. “This is not just an opportunity to observe a man of power, it’s a chance to learn, to position ourselves as useful allies, and to gauge his ambitions. All we will focus on is the logistics: what he aims to achieve, how he is executing his plans, the resources he has at his disposal, and his vision for the future. Keep it simple for now. We are still attending school, and any unnecessary details could draw unwanted attention. We cannot afford that.”

He turned to Abraxas, Icarus, and Tiernan. “Your families are well-known for their pureblood ideologies. Grindelwald will want to speak with you, or your parents, to secure their loyalty. Be prepared for subtle tests of your conviction. He will be assessing every word you say, every movement you make. Remember that Grindelwald does not tolerate weakness or indecision. If he perceives us as a threat or a liability, he won’t hesitate to eliminate us. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” came the unified response.

Lilia sighed audibly, drawing Tom’s gaze. “I am clearly not part of whatever you are planning. Why am I even here?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“If you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be,” Tom replied curtly.

His tone held a finality that left no room for argument, but Lilia held her ground. She stuck to the rational part of her mind, fortified by her Occlumency. “Fair point. What will I be doing, then?” She asked, her tone neutral but firm.

“You,” Tom said, his lips curling into a smirk, “will be enjoying yourself.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That doesn’t sound like much of a plan.”

“Your task is simple: observe. Learn. And stay out of trouble,” he added with a pointed glance, though the smirk didn’t leave his face. “If you must know, I will be demonstrating the spell I created. It’s powerful, unique, and something Grindelwald will appreciate. Once I have his attention, we will shift the discussion to his strategy. His movements across Europe, his recruitment methods, and how he is managing his resources. Abraxas, Icarus, and Tiernan will provide insight into how their families’ influence could be leveraged to support his cause, should we choose to.”

“And if he asks about our own goals?” Tiernan interjected.

“We keep it vague,” Tom replied. “We are students, nothing more. For now, he must see us as potential, not as competition.”

Lilia let out a skeptical huff, earning her another glance from Tom. “And what happens if he doesn’t buy into your charm and strategy?” She asked.

“Then we adapt,” he said coolly, his smirk fading into a more serious expression. “But rest assured, he will. Grindelwald values innovation, and the spell I’ve created will be a testament to what we can offer.”

Tiernan leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Do you plan to dazzle him with your brilliance, then?”

Tom’s smirk returned. “Precisely.”

Lilia shook her head. “It sounds risky.”

“Life is risk, Lilia,” Tom countered. “But I’m not concerned. If you’re done questioning my methods, perhaps we can move on.”

“Have you ever attended a Yule Ball?” Tiernan asked Lilia suddenly, his cheeky grin lightening the mood.

“Sort of,” she muttered. “Not one like this, though.”

“It is nothing like the one being hosted here,” Abraxas said, folding his arms. “This ball is meant to impress. Every detail, every interaction will be scrutinized.”

“Yeah, I gathered that when, you know, I enchanted the ceiling. Where were you all, by the way?” Lilia asked, her gaze landing on Abraxas.

“Hiding away,” he admitted, groaning. “Mother becomes insufferable when plans change at the last minute. I’m impressed you managed to deal with her.”

“She said you could learn something from me.”

“Salazar, stop complicating my life already,” Abraxas grumbled, making Lilia laugh.

“I am curious, Lilia,” Celeste chimed in, her tone inquisitive. “How do you know all these enchantments?”

The others leaned in, clearly interested. Lilia hesitated, then answered casually, “I experimented with friends. We used to try out different charms and illusions in our dorms.” “What else did you try?” Icarus asked, leaning forward.

In response, Lilia raised her wand and waved it toward the fireplace, conjuring a miniature volcano. The fire shifted, glowing molten orange as it morphed into the illusion of bubbling lava. A chorus of appreciative murmurs followed, and she smiled faintly.

Tom, however, wasn’t watching the fireplace. His gaze stayed on Lilia, studying her. Something was off. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and her expression held a vacancy that he recognized. Occlumency. She was shutting herself off. But why?

With a small sigh, he pulled out a cigarette and brought it to his lips. The sharp flick of his lighter drew Lilia’s attention, her breath hitching as his dark eyes met hers through the rising smoke. He took a slow drag, exhaling a faint cloud that hung between them like an unspoken challenge.

“Distracted, Lilia?” He asked softly, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to resemble that infuriating smirk.

She snapped her gaze back to the volcano, her grip tightening on her wand. Tom’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t press further.

For now.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The day of the Yule Ball was a whirlwind.

Lilia couldn’t recall most of the morning’s chaos, but by late afternoon, she was seated at her dresser in her brand-new dress while Evangeline and Celeste fussed over their hair. Angie had delivered their garments in the morning, and during lunch, the three girls had chatted excitedly about the evening ahead.

Evangeline had barely contained her excitement as she spoke of Dimitri, her boyfriend, whom she hadn’t seen in nearly four months. Lilia couldn’t help but feel curious about the boy who had captured her friend’s heart. Tonight, she’d finally put a face to his name.

The preparations began early, at two in the afternoon, giving them three hours before the ball started. Most of the guests would arrive via apparition, while the younger ones without licenses would use the Floo Network.

When Lilia stepped into her burgundy dress, she hardly recognized herself. The puffed sleeves and delicate ruffles gave her an air of innocence that felt foreign to her. Yet, she couldn’t deny how the gown accentuated her figure: the cinched waist, the graceful flare below. The mesh neckline, sheer but modest, concealed her scars while still hinting at the skin beneath. For once, her reflection in the mirror didn’t feel like a stranger. She looked… beautiful.

Her makeup was light, just enough to enhance her natural features, while Celeste meticulously adorned her black hair with tiny pearls. Dark red lipstick completed her look, and as she studied her reflection, a faint smile graced her lips.

“Oh, Lilia, you look divine!” Evangeline sighed dreamily, smoothing the navy-blue fabric of her gown, which dipped low at the back and accentuated her figure.

Celeste, radiant in her strapless dark green dress, added, “You look absolutely stunning.”

Lilia returned their compliments with a fond smile. “You both look incredible."

"Let’s get some pictures before the ball starts,” Celeste suggested enthusiastically.

The trio clattered down the marble halls in their heels, their laughter echoing as they searched for one of the boys to take their picture. When Celeste pounded on Icarus’s door, he opened it with his usually carefree curls slicked back. For a moment, his expression froze.

“Celeste? You- You look beautiful.” The blush on his cheeks was impossible to miss.

Celeste stammered, “Oh, uh, thank you. You look very handsome yourself.”

“Do I?” He asked, seemingly caught off guard.

Before the moment could grow more awkward, Evangeline chimed in with a mischievous giggle. “Okay, lovebirds, save it for later. Icarus, take our picture, will you?”

Lilia watched with a smirk as Icarus hastily grabbed the camera, muttering under his breath. She leaned in toward Celeste. “Are you two-”

“No!” Celeste and Icarus snapped in unison, their voices an octave too high, earning a knowing laugh from Lilia.

As Icarus snapped the first photo, the other boys joined them. They were all impeccably dressed in three-piece suits, their hair neatly combed back. Tom and Abraxas, ever so distinguished, had a chain dangling from their belts, which caught Lilia’s attention for far too long. When her eyes darted upward, she found Tom’s gaze fixed on her, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. Heat rose to her cheeks as she realized what it must have looked like. Of course, he would assume she’d been staring elsewhere.

She turned away quickly, muttering under her breath.

After several pictures, including one with a timer so Icarus could join in, Lilia’s nerves began to stir. The flashes from the camera were nothing compared to the weight settling in her chest at the thought of seeing Grindelwald. She hadn’t occluded as much as she’d planned.

As they descended the staircase, heads turned, eyes lingering on them as they walked. This was no ordinary ball; it was a gathering of pureblood elites and Grindelwald’s most ardent supporters. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy greeted guests at the entrance, their polished smiles concealing the power plays unfolding behind the scenes.

Lilia endured introductions to her friends’ parents, each interaction marked by thinly veiled suspicion. They’d never heard of the Rousseau family, but surely, she must have had an impressive lineage to be staying at the Malfoy manor. The scrutiny was suffocating.

After exchanging a polite smile or two, she retreated to the drink counter, where Tom was already seated, sipping champagne. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his voice smooth and calm. Lilia groaned, gripping her glass tightly. “Oh, absolutely. Nothing like pretending I didn’t notice their disdain.” Tom’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “That’s what we get for having no family here.” His words struck a chord, and they clinked their glasses together in bitter camaraderie.

For a moment, Lilia’s thoughts drifted to Harry. She remembered teasing him at their Yule Ball, calling him a loser after her first kiss with Theo. But she’d made sure to sit with him later, sharing a glass of champagne and keeping him company after Parvati had left him. She missed him fiercely. His snarky remarks, his optimism, his steady presence, all of it felt so far away. Here, she was surrounded by wealth and privilege, but there was no comfort in it.

Her gaze lifted to the enchanted ceiling she’d created, a beautiful illusion masking the reality of the chandelier above. It was beneath that very chandelier that Bellatrix had tortured her. The memory resurfaced unbidden: her body suspended in the air, the wand lashing spells across her back as Bellatrix smiled gleefully. The witch’s cackles had echoed in her ears as the pain blurred her vision. Lilia swallowed thickly, gripping her glass until her knuckles turned white.

Not now. Not here. She forced herself to take a deep breath and she made to set the glass down before she broke it.

Just as she steadied herself, Evangeline appeared, practically glowing. “Lilia! He’s here. Come meet my boyfriend!”

Lilia managed a smile, pushing the memories aside as Evangeline led her across the room. The man waiting for them was tall and broad, his dark hair slicked back. When he smiled, Lilia froze. Something about him felt… wrong.

“Good evening, Lilia. I’m Dimitri. Dimitri Dolohov.”

Her glass slipped from her hand, shattering against the floor. The sound turned heads, but she barely noticed. The name echoed in her mind like a curse.

Dimitri Dolohov.

Antonin Dolohov’s father.

Chapter Text

The sound of her glass breaking brought Lilia back to reality. “Oh, I’m-” she stammered, but an elf quickly appeared to clean up the mess.

“Am I this handsome?” Dimitri Dolohov smirked at her, his expression nauseatingly familiar. Her heart sank, bile rising in her throat as she took in his features. The sharp jaw, the confident sneer, so reminiscent of Antonin Dolohov. She could feel the blood draining from her face, and it took every ounce of willpower not to crumble under the weight of his presence.

“My apologies, Dimitri. I am Lilia. Lilia Rousseau.” She forced herself to laugh lightly, extending a hand she wished she could hide.

“Rousseau, hmm? My angel tells me you’re from France.”

“I am.” The words tasted like ash.

“Interesting. And you just transferred to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons?”

“I did.”

“I study at Durmstrang myself. Nice to meet someone from a school other than Hogwarts.” Lilia smiled faintly, though her skin crawled.

“So exotic,” Evangeline cooed, throwing her arms around Dimitri and kissing him loudly.

“I’ll just go to the washroom,” Lilia muttered, her voice brittle as she fled upstairs to her room.

Lilia locked the bathroom door behind her and braced herself against the marble counter. The cold surface beneath her palms grounded her, but only just. Her reflection stared back, pale and wide-eyed, a mask of composure shattering in the privacy of the room. Her breath came in short gasps, panic clawing its way up her throat. The sound of Dimitri’s voice echoed in her mind, blending with Antonin’s cruel laughter.

“That’s all you bloody traitors are good for. Isn’t that what halfbreeds like you deserve, Potter?”

A sob wrenched its way out of her chest, and she pressed her fist to her mouth to muffle the sound. She could still feel Antonin’s hands on her, the violation etched into her memory as though it had happened yesterday. Her body trembled, and she shook her head violently as if she could cast the memories away like an unwanted spell.

“He’s dead,” she whispered hoarsely. “He’s dead, and I'm still letting him win.”

But her own words felt hollow. Dimitri wasn’t Antonin, but his presence reopened wounds she thought she’d buried. The same sharp jawline, the same smirk. How could fate be so cruel as to bring his likeness back into her life?

Her breathing grew erratic, her fists tightening at her sides. Without thinking, she lashed out, driving her fist into the mirror. The glass shattered, shards falling around her in a cascade of jagged edges. The sharp sting in her knuckles brought her back to the present, grounding her in the pain. Blood trickled down her hand, the crimson drops staining the pristine white counter. She stared at it for a moment, the pain a strangely comforting distraction from the storm raging in her mind.

“Get it together,” she muttered, her voice shaking. “I can’t fall apart here.”

With trembling hands, she raised her wand and repaired the mirror. The cracks vanished, but her reflection felt like a stranger’s. She healed the cuts on her hand next, leaving faint scars that she barely noticed. Lilia’s shoulders slumped as she leaned heavily against the counter, staring into the now-pristine mirror. Her thoughts circled back to Dimitri, to Antonin, to the weight of everything she had endured.

A small, broken laugh escaped her lips. She wasn’t strong, she was just surviving.

The voices of the ball guests drifted up from below, a cruel reminder that she couldn’t hide here forever. She took a shaky breath and splashed cold water on her face, wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks. Brushing her hair back into place, she practiced a neutral expression. Most of her makeup was gone, but that was alright. She had bigger issues to worry about. When she was satisfied, she straightened her dress and unlocked the door. She stepped into the hallway, her walls rebuilt, her façade firmly in place.

As soon as Lilia stepped out of her room, she nearly bumped into Celeste, who was rushing down the hallway, her emerald gown trailing behind her. “Oh, Lils! Here you are. Grindelwald just arrived, so we will all most likely be busy with our families.”

“Of course, Cel. I understand. I’ll most likely be by the drinks,” Lilia replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Great! See you in a bit.” Celeste rushed off, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

Lilia followed slowly, her footsteps heavy as she descended the grand staircase. Below, she caught sight of the gathering in the middle of the ballroom. A tall, blonde wizard stood at the center, his aura commanding attention. Her friends and their families surrounded him, their expressions polite but guarded. Tom stood out among them, his posture exuding confidence and poise as if he were already an equal to the older wizard.

Her breath caught when her gaze landed on the wizard at the center. Gellert Grindelwald.

It was surreal to see one of history’s most infamous dark wizards in person. His presence radiated charisma, but it didn’t intimidate her as much as it should have. She had studied his curses, memorized his strategies, and prepared herself during the war to counteract the horrors his influence had spawned. And yet, knowing who he was, what he had done, made her chest tighten.

She slipped away to the drinks section, where she nursed another glass of champagne, trying to remain inconspicuous. The last thing she wanted was to draw the attention of a man like Grindelwald. The orchestra began to play, and pairs of guests moved to the dance floor. Lilia remained near the drinks, sipping her champagne and keeping her distance. Her gaze, however, wandered to where her friends stood with Grindelwald. Tom appeared to be leading the conversation, speaking with calm assurance. She couldn’t hear the words, but the intensity in Tom’s eyes as he gestured subtly toward his wand told her enough.

Grindelwald nodded, an intrigued glint in his gaze. Lilia watched as Tom held his wand aloft and cast a spell. The air near them shimmered, and Lilia felt the faint ripple of dark magic. Her breath hitched as she recognized its nature. A curse. A moment later, Icarus, likely having volunteered for the demonstration, doubled over in visible pain. The curse seemed to rip at his energy, his body convulsing as faint lines of dark red began to spread across his skin like veins. Grindelwald leaned in slightly, his expression betraying interest rather than concern. Tom moved smoothly, casting a second spell in quick succession. This time, a faint silver light wrapped around Icarus, reversing the curse’s effects. The red lines faded, and he slumped in relief, gasping as Tom steadied him with a firm hand.

Lilia’s grip on her glass tightened. She didn’t dare move, but her heart pounded in her chest. She recognized the spell. It was the very curse she had seen a death eater use on Remus before his death. Her knuckles turned white around the glass as a wave of nausea rolled over her.

Tom and Grindelwald exchanged a few more words, the latter clapping Tom on the shoulder, clearly impressed, before walking away.

From across the room, Lilia saw her friends’ approving expressions. Even Celeste and Evangeline seemed momentarily awed.

She, however, felt frozen in place. Her chest constricted painfully as she watched Tom smile faintly, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. How could he stand there so composed, so calculated, while wielding magic that had destroyed lives, her family’s lives?

Before she could dwell further, she heard someone speak behind her. “Excuse me, miss?” She turned sharply, her heart skipping a beat as she came face to face with Grindelwald himself.

“Good evening,” she managed, her voice higher than she intended.

“Pleasure to meet you. I am Gellert Grindelwald.” He extended his hand, his smile as charming as it was unnerving.

She shook his hand warily. “Lilia Rousseau.”

“You have a pretty name, Miss Rousseau.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her words clipped, her nerves fraying with every passing second. He held her hand longer than necessary, his piercing gaze raking over her. Once again, she felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the room turning toward her. Even her friends looked surprised by the interaction.

“May I be your first dance tonight, Miss Rousseau?” Grindelwald’s tone was smooth, almost teasing. “I noticed you’ve been sitting here by yourself for a long time now.”

“Of course.” Her voice shook as she accepted. What choice did she have?  Grindelwald led her to the dance floor, his hand resting lightly on her waist. She placed hers on his shoulder, her movements stiff. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to flee, but she forced herself to maintain her composure.

As Grindelwald guided her through the dance, his movements were smooth, but his words felt sharp, like the edge of a blade. “Miss Rousseau, I’ve always been fascinated by the lengths people will go to for those they’ve lost,” he began, his voice light yet deliberately laced with meaning.

Lilia stiffened slightly in his grasp, but he didn’t stop. “Loss has a way of driving even the strongest of us to seek… unconventional solutions, wouldn’t you agree?” Her breath caught, but she held his gaze, refusing to let him see the turmoil brewing inside. Grindelwald’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Take, for instance, a dear friend. Someone whose presence lingers in your heart, even in their absence. Someone like Theodore.”

Her steps faltered, and he steadied her with an almost paternal firmness. “Ah,” he said softly, his tone tinged with mock regret, “my apologies if I’ve struck a nerve. But I couldn’t help but notice how grief weighs on the living, how it clings to them, whispering promises of reunion.”

Lilia’s mouth went dry. “What… What do you mean?” She asked, her voice barely audible.

Grindelwald leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You don’t have to believe me, but I hear your dear Theodore met a rather tragic end. Is it not unbearable, wondering if there’s truth to it? If only there were a way to speak to him… to know.” Her heart pounded in her chest, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting.

Grindelwald’s smile shifted into something colder, darker, as though he’d just unveiled a private joke. “Ah, but we both know there are paths to such answers. Dangerous ones. I wonder, Miss Rousseau, would you dare tread them?” He twirled her then, the motion disorienting as her mind raced. When he brought her back to him, his voice softened, almost pitying. “My dear, be careful what you seek. Sometimes, the answers we long for can shatter us more than the questions ever did.” With that, he stepped back, releasing her hand with a slight bow.

“Thank you for the dance,” he said, his tone polite yet laced with condescension, as though he knew he’d planted a seed that would grow long after he was gone.

Lilia stood frozen, her breaths shallow as she processed his words. Did he know? How could he know? And… was Theodore really gone? The questions swirled in her mind, louder than the orchestra playing in the background. Lilia stumbled away from the dance floor, her mind swirling with Grindelwald’s words. Her chest felt hollow, yet heavy, as if her heart had been scooped out and replaced with lead. She barely registered her friends surrounding her.

“Lilia, are you okay? What did he say to you?” Evangeline gripped her shoulders, her eyes scanning Lilia’s pale face with concern.

“Just something about the war,” Lilia lied, the words leaving her lips too easily, like second nature. Her heart clenched at how effortlessly she could deceive them.

Her friends exchanged uneasy glances, their concern deepening, even Tom. He stood at the edge of the group, his expression unreadable, but his piercing gaze unsettled her. Lilia felt guilt twist inside her. The same Tom she had been about to kill was now just a young man, flawed but human, still discovering himself.

And yet, her mind kept circling back to Grindelwald’s words, the insinuation of Theodore’s death. She couldn’t leave it unanswered. She wouldn’t.

Her friends, oblivious to her spiraling thoughts, continued talking, their voices blending into an indistinct hum. Lilia’s focus narrowed, her breath quickening as she calculated her next move. She glanced around the ballroom. Too many people. Too many eyes. Her pulse thundered in her ears as the pressure mounted.

When they finally retreated to the library, Lilia lagged behind, her mind set. The cozy glow of the fireplace illuminated their faces as they settled into their seats.

“Today was a success,” Tiernan said with a contented sigh, stretching his arms. Lilia sat quietly in the corner of the library, watching her friends animatedly discuss their success with Grindelwald. Tom stood at the center, exuding his usual composed authority, while the others chimed in with excitement. Abraxas was already recounting Grindelwald’s approval of Tom’s spell, and Celeste was grinning at Tiernan’s dramatic reenactment of their meeting.

Their laughter filled the room, a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside her. Lilia gripped the edge of her chair, her mind racing with Grindelwald’s words.

Theo . The name echoed in her head, louder and louder until she felt she might scream. Her eyes fell on Tom. His left hand rested casually on the arm of his chair, the Gaunt ring gleaming faintly in the dim light of the library. Her pulse quickened, and the room seemed to blur around her.

This was her chance. Her only chance.

She swallowed hard, her breath shaky as she rose from her seat. Her movements were careful, deliberate, as though every step might shatter the camaraderie in the room. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat a reminder of her betrayal. The group was engrossed in their conversation, oblivious to her presence as she reached into her pocket, gripping her wand tightly. Lilia took a deep breath, her throat tightening at what she was about to do.

She whispered, “Confundo,” her wand aimed subtly at the group.

The effect was immediate. Abraxas, in the middle of laughing, blinked rapidly and looked slightly dazed, as though he had forgotten what was so amusing. Celeste began adjusting her hair absentmindedly, and Tiernan squinted at his drink, as though trying to recall how it had gotten into his hand. Even Tom’s expression flickered, his focus momentarily shifting from the discussion to the fireplace. The spell was subtle, just enough to create a haze of distraction.

Lilia moved quickly, her hand trembling as she reached for Tom’s. His fingers twitched slightly as her own brushed against them, and her heart nearly stopped. But the charm held, and Tom remained unaware as she carefully slid the ring from his finger.

This was wrong. She knew it. But the memory came unbidden, piercing through her hesitation like a knife.

Remus.

She could still hear his pained cries, still see the way the curse had spread across his body like wildfire, searing his veins from the inside out. The spell, Tom’s spell, had been used against him, and even with all their efforts, even with Hermione and Madame Pomfrey working tirelessly at her side, they hadn’t been able to save him. Lilia’s hands had been soaked in his blood, trembling as she tried to stem the flow.

“It’s okay, Lilia,” Remus had rasped, his voice weak but filled with that maddening, heartbreaking calm that always defined him. “You did everything you could.”

But she hadn’t. She hadn’t saved him. She hadn’t stopped the war.

And now, she was standing here, watching Tom Riddle flaunt his brilliance as though the spell hadn’t already claimed someone she loved. Her breath hitched, and the ring felt impossibly heavy in her grasp. If she could use it, if she could confirm whether Grindelwald’s words about Theo were true, it might justify her actions. Her hand clenched tightly around the cool metal as she backed away.

The group began to regain their focus, and Lilia knew she had to move quickly. She slipped out of the library, her steps as quiet as a whisper. When she reached the corridor, she broke into a run, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She sprinted down the empty corridor, her heartbeat thunderous in her ears. The cold metal of the ring burned against her palm, its weight far heavier than she had expected. The grandeur of the Malfoy Manor blurred around her. Nothing mattered except getting away before anyone realized what she had done.

She cast a disillusionment charm, her skin tingling as the magic took hold. Pressing herself against the shadows of the walls, she slipped down the staircase, her breaths shallow. A group of pureblood socialites laughed nearby, oblivious to the girl moving unseen past them.

This was wrong. She should turn back. She shouldn’t do this.

However, Grindelwald’s words slammed into her like a slap. "I hear your dear Theodore met a rather tragic end. Is it not unbearable, wondering if there’s truth to it? " Her grip on her wand tightened until her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t turn back. Not now. She rushed out the main door towards the back of the manor.

The forest loomed ahead, dark and unwelcoming, but she didn’t hesitate. She ran toward it, the soft earth giving way beneath her heels. Low-hanging branches clawed at her dress, brambles tore at her skin, but she barely felt them.

The only thought in her mind was the ring.

The ring and what she had to do.

Chapter Text

It had snowed while Lilia was at the ball. She took notice of the white expanse around her, the pristine snow crunching underfoot as she stumbled through it. The heels offered no protection, her feet numb from the cold and the strain of running. Frustration bubbled up, and with a sharp motion, she kicked off the heels and hurled them into the trees, not caring where they landed. Barefoot, she trudged forward, her one thought to put as much distance as possible between herself and the manor before they noticed her absence.

When the lights of the manor were nothing but a faint glow on the horizon, she stopped.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, white puffs of air forming in the freezing night. Around her, the forest stretched in all directions, a silent, snow-draped wilderness. Cicadas hummed faintly, their song at odds with the peaceful snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. The serene beauty mocked the storm raging inside her.

Her body trembled from the cold and anticipation. She had never used the resurrection stone before, but her hand tightened around it as if seeking reassurance. She closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath, Theo’s name slipping from her lips like a prayer.

The forest fell silent. The hum of cicadas stopped, the stillness pressing in around her like an invisible weight. A cold gust swept across her skin, and she shuddered, feeling its chill reach her bones. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

Her throat tightened. Tears welled as she took in the figure standing before her, blurred and faintly glowing, as though he were made of light and mist.

“Hey, love.” Her heart ached at the sound of his voice. She wanted to rationalize the situation, to build her occlumency walls and regain control, but she couldn’t. Not when Theo stood before her, his face so achingly familiar, even in its ghostly form.

“Theo?” Her voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper.

“In the flesh,” he replied with a sad chuckle, the corners of his lips quirking upward in a shadow of the playful smile she remembered so vividly.

“You- How are you-” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The words felt stuck in her throat, and her mind spun as she grappled with the reality before her. “How are you here? It’s 1943…”

“We’re not bound by time. We’re always watching over you.” His voice was soft, soothing, but the truth of his words hit her like a punch to the gut. “The resurrection stone was a good call.”

“You… you know about the resurrection stone?” Her voice was barely audible, trembling with the weight of emotions she could no longer suppress.

Theo nodded, his expression shifting to one of bitter amusement. “Oh, I know about the Hallows. Moldy Voldy eventually lost his mind ranting about them. Harry destroyed the stone, you know. Left him with only two Hallows, and he was furious.”

A tearful laugh escaped her lips at the nickname, a fleeting moment of levity amidst the storm. “So he’ll never be Master of Death, then.”

“Never,” Theo replied with a smirk. “Reckon he almost lost his balls at the realization. Not sure if he has any, to begin with, what with the lack of nose.”

Her laughter turned into a quiet sob as the pain of his absence came crashing down on her again. He was here, and yet he wasn’t. Her heart twisted painfully. “How did you die, Theo?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with dread.

The light in his eyes dimmed. “He killed me, Lilia.”

The world tilted. Her breathing hitched, and she stared at him, the weight of his words crushing her chest. “Why?”

“It didn’t look good when he found out I dated you,” Theo admitted with a wry chuckle. “A Death Eater and an Order member? Can you imagine?”

Her mind reeled. She could imagine it all too well: the judgment, the whispers, the condemnation. She had lived it. Her voice trembled. “So you… died because of me?”

“No, love,” Theo said gently, his gaze full of tenderness. “I died because he lost his mind after killing you.”

The revelation hit her hard. “What?”

“He saw your memories before you… well, before whatever happened to you. Clearly, you didn’t die, but he thought you did.” Theo hesitated, his expression darkening. “I know what happened with Dolohov. He saw it too. Took it as an ultimate act of defiance.”

Lilia’s breath hitched. Her skin crawled as she thought of Voldemort invading her mind, her sanctuary. “What did he do?”

Theo’s voice grew colder. “He had already cursed Dolohov’s soul to remain in his body, then tortured the corpse. Kept it burning in the middle of Hogwarts, forcing everyone to watch. A reminder of what defying him would cost.”

Her stomach churned. The thought of children witnessing such a horror made her physically ill. “How could he-”

“Nothing was ever the same after the war started,” Theo interrupted gently, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Lilia’s hand trembled as she brushed a strand of hair from her face, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying, Theo. I’m trying to make sense of this. Of everything.”

Theo’s expression softened, though his brows furrowed in concern. “I know, love. I know it’s hard. But sometimes… sometimes the choices we make only make things harder.”

Her heart sank, and she looked away, guilt clawing at her chest. “I didn’t have a choice. Grindelwald- he came to me. I didn’t seek him out.”

“But you stayed,” Theo replied gently, though there was a firmness in his tone. “You let him pull you into his orbit. You danced with him, let him get close enough to plant his poison in your mind. And now look at you.”

Her throat tightened, and she fought to steady her breathing. “I couldn’t just walk away. It wasn’t safe. He already knew about you, Theo. He said-” her voice cracked, “he said you were dead.”

“And you believed him,” Theo said softly, his spectral form flickering slightly. “You let his words sink in, didn’t you? That’s the thing about people like him, love. They don’t just wield curses. They wield doubt. Fear. And now you’re here, running into the cold, looking for answers you already know.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head. “I had to know. I couldn’t just- What if he was lying? What if there was still a chance-”

“But there isn’t,” Theo interrupted, though his voice was filled with an aching sadness. “You know that now, don’t you?”

She couldn’t respond. Her sobs choked her, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to hold the pieces of her heart together. “I just wanted to see you,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. “I thought maybe- maybe if I could just talk to you…”

Theo stepped closer, though his translucent form flickered again, dimming at the edges. “And now you have. But what’s next, Lilia? Will you keep coming back to me, chasing shadows of the past? Will you let Grindelwald’s words push you into making decisions you’ll regret?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She reached for him, her hand shaking, and it passed through him like mist. The cold dampness sent a shiver down her spine, and the reality of his presence, or lack thereof, hit her like a curse.

“You made a mistake tonight, love,” Theo said softly, his voice steady but tinged with sorrow. “Not because you came to me, but because you let him pull you into his game. Grindelwald doesn’t speak without purpose. He wanted to unsettle you, to plant a seed. Don’t let it grow.”

“But how do I stop it?” She whispered, her voice breaking. “How do I stop any of this?”

“You already know the answer,” Theo replied, his form flickering more rapidly now. “Live your life, Lilia. Don’t let him win by dragging you down. Don’t let me hold you back, either.”

Her tears flowed freely as she shook her head. “I can’t just let you go. I need you, Theo. You were always my-”

“Don’t say it,” he interrupted sharply, his voice cracking slightly. His gaze softened, though, and a faint, sad smile crossed his face. “If you say it, I won’t be able to leave. And you can’t move forward if I stay.”

“No,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please, Theo. Don’t go. Not yet. I- I can’t do this without you.”

“You can,” he said firmly. “You’re stronger than you think, love. But you’ll never see it if you keep looking back. Don’t seek me out again, Lilia. Don’t use the stone. Don’t let Grindelwald, or me, or anyone else keep you trapped in the past.”

She reached for him again, her hand passing through his chest. “Theo, please.”

“I love you, Lilia,” he said softly, his form dimming until he was barely visible. “But this is goodbye.”

“No,” she cried, her voice breaking as he faded completely. “Theo! Please, don’t go!”

But he was gone.

The forest was silent once more, the cold seeping into her bones as her cries echoed among the trees. She sank to her knees, her hands clutching the snow as if it could somehow ground her. Her breath came in shaky gasps, her sobs wracking her body. She had lost him again.

And this time, it felt like she had lost herself too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“You saw him, didn’t you? Your lover from another time.”

The soft voice broke her out of her trance and Lilia whirled around in shock. The atmosphere was thick with tension and the Gaunt ring felt heavy on her finger. Her face was still tear-streaked and her breathing was ragged before it hitched.

Through the dim lighting, Gellert Grindelwald stepped out from the shadows, his presence commanding and predatory. “How remarkable that even death bends to your will, Lilia Potter.” Grindelwald took a few steps towards her.

Lilia immediately pulled out her wand and raised it towards him. “Stay back! Don’t come any closer.”

The silver haired wizard chuckled before raising his hands up in mock surrender. “Relax, child. I am not here to hurt you. Not yet, I only wish to talk.” The soft, mocking tone shifted to a sharp one. “Although… It seems that you have been playing with forces beyond your understanding. A dangerous game, especially for someone so… fragile.”

Lilia tightened the grip on her wand. “I am not fragile. And I am not afraid of you .”

His cold chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “Oh, but you are. I can taste your fear, feel it clinging to your very being. It is delicious, really. Tell me, does he comfort you in the afterlife? This… Theo?” Her expression hardened in response but her hands started trembling slightly, a change that Grindelwald noticed. “No need to answer. It must be tormenting, though, to see him and know you are the reason he is gone. War leaves its scars, after all.” The dark wizard knew how to poke her vulnerabilities, her weaknesses. His tone was soft, almost soothing and yet, it belied a sinister motive that Lilia was not blind to.

“You know nothing about me.” She hissed.

“Don’t I? You’re a warrior, a survivor, but also a girl burdened by guilt and loss. It drips from you, Lilia. I imagine it’s why you hold that ring, that stone so tightly.” Her eyes widened slightly when she felt that she had indeed tightened her hand into a fist to protect the Gaunt ring on her finger.

Gellert stepped closer before continuing in a smooth voice. “Let me help you. You wield power that few can dream of. Together, we could change everything. Bring him back properly. Rewrite your past. Fix your future.”

His words were so tempting that she had to ponder over them. She could have her loved ones again. But Lilia was no fool: she knew that he was an inherently manipulative wizard who only cared about harnessing his power. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t want to help me. You want the stone.”

“Of course, I do. Such tools belong in the hands of visionaries, not… lost little girls. But I am offering you something in return. Control. Over your pain, your destiny.”

“My destiny is my own. You won’t use me or this stone.” Her voice was firm and determined, none of which reflected how she actually felt. His expression darkened, his patience wearing thin.

“You are bold. I will give you that. But tell me, child, does your vision of the future include my death? I have seen glimpses of it myself. I wonder… who is it that kills me? Surely you know. You were at the forefront of the war…” Lilia stiffened but said nothing. His tone became more menacing at her lack of response. “Is it you? Or perhaps… someone you know here? Someone close to you?” She flinched and a slow, sinister smile spread across his face. “Ah, so it is someone close to you. One of your close friends… One of the young people I had the opportunity to meet tonight at the ball. Fascinating.”

“Shut up!” Lilia was clearly panicking and in a fit of anger and fear, she fired a curse. “Expulso !” A blast of blue light shot towards the older wizard.

“Protego Totalum. ” He easily deflected her curse.

More panic creeped through her veins. “ Confringo! ”

“Defodio .” Grindelwald’s calmly uttered counter curse pulled out rocks from beneath the snow. Lilia’s curse hit the rocks, which exploded and scattered to the ground.

“Oppugno .” He summoned those scattered rocks and directed them towards Lilia. She drew up a defensive shield to protect herself. The spell was not complicated but the force was stronger than what she was expecting and she was already panting slightly as her shield flickered slightly and broke. The pieces of rock fell to the ground. Taking advantage of her growing exhaustion, he kept throwing curses at her and forcing her on the defensive. Soon, she was covered in a thin layer of sweat despite her cold surroundings.

“You fight well for someone carrying the weight of two lifetimes. But tell me, does your anger come from grief or guilt?” His words were too calm and it unnerved her. Lilia realised that she was at a clear disadvantage with her exhaustion while he looked like he had barely raised a finger. Gellert Grindelwald was the darkest wizard of his time for a reason. She had never been in a face to face dual with someone like him. Her final encounter with Voldemort had mostly been one-sided as he had been agile and had quickly brought her down to his mercy. Grindelwald wanted to test her and that was not a good sign.

For a moment, she felt utter despair like she had not felt in months. She felt the familiar fear and panic running through her veins at how helpless she thought herself to be in front of him.

However, that quickly gave way to the memory of her friends. She had to protect them because they were still innocent. Grindelwald had already narrowed down his future murderer to one of her close friends. She could not risk their safety.

“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I have fought for, and you never will.” Lilia raised her wand with newfound determination and fired a blinding spell towards Grindelwald.

The latter’s eyes glazed over as he became momentarily blind and she quickly ran in the direction that Grindelwald came from, towards the mansion. The spell was already wearing off and as she passed by him, he quickly threw a hex her way, cutting deep in her left arm and leaving a bleeding gash behind. Blood poured out of the injury with a sickening splash but she did not pay attention to it. She had to focus. 

The forest was unnervingly silent as Lilia’s breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhale burning her chest. Blood seeped through her fingers, staining the snow beneath her as she clutched the gash on her side. Her wand trembled in her grip, but she refused to lower it. Grindelwald stood across from her, calm and unbothered, the faint smirk on his face a stark contrast to her own desperation. His silver hair caught the moonlight, giving him an almost ethereal glow, though his presence was anything but comforting.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice soft yet condescending. “A fighter to the end. So very determined to protect the very people who would turn on you in an instant if they knew who you really were.”

“Shut up,” Lilia hissed, though her voice wavered. She took a shaky step backward, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. “You know nothing about me.”

Grindelwald chuckled, taking a deliberate step forward. “Don’t I? Your fear is written all over you, child. You fear losing control, losing them, losing yourself. I see it in the way you hold your wand, the way you cling to that ring as if it could save you.”

Lilia’s grip on her wand tightened, her knuckles turning white. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh, but you are.” His smirk widened, and his voice lowered to a dangerous murmur. “You’re afraid of what you’ve already lost. Afraid that you’re too broken to protect them. Afraid that, in the end, you’ll fail.”

“Stop it!” Her voice cracked as she raised her wand. “Bombarda Maxima!” The spell exploded from her wand, ripping through the air with a deafening roar. Trees around Grindelwald shattered and splintered, the sound echoing through the forest. Snow and debris rained down, obscuring her vision, but when the dust settled, he was still standing. A shimmering shield surrounded him, untouched by the chaos she had unleashed.

“How predictable,” Grindelwald mused, lowering his shield with a flick of his wand. “Desperation makes you sloppy, child. Did you really think you could best me?”

“I’ll keep trying,” she spat, though her knees were trembling. She was barely holding herself upright, her body screaming in protest. “I’ll fight you until my last breath.”

Grindelwald tilted his head, his icy gaze boring into hers. “How noble. How futile.” He raised his wand and cast a spell so swiftly that she barely had time to react. “Oppugno.” The scattered debris from her explosion lifted off the ground, sharp fragments of wood and stone hurtling toward her. Lilia raised a shield, but her magic faltered under the strain, the pieces slicing through and grazing her arms and legs. She stumbled backward, panting, her vision blurring from the pain and exhaustion.

“Is this what Theo would have wanted for you?” Grindelwald’s words were a dagger to her chest. “To see you fall, broken and defeated, clinging to the past instead of embracing your power?”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” she hissed, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t get to talk about him.”

“Oh, but I do,” Grindelwald said with a cold smile. “Because I know what drives you. And it’s that same pain, that same guilt, that will be your undoing.”

“Shut up!” she screamed, her voice breaking as she cast, “Sectumsempra!” The curse tore through the air, aimed directly at his chest.

But Grindelwald’s movements were effortless as he deflected it, redirecting it toward her with lethal precision. Lilia’s eyes widened in horror, and before she could move, the curse struck her. A sharp, searing pain ripped through her abdomen, and she crumpled to the ground with a strangled cry. Blood poured from the wound, staining the pristine snow in crimson. She pressed her trembling hands to the gash, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“You see?” Grindelwald said, his voice almost gentle now as he loomed over her. “Your pain makes you predictable. And predictability… well, it is a fatal flaw.”

Lilia’s vision blurred, but she forced herself to move, to think. The ring on her finger felt heavier than ever, a grim reminder of the power she carried, and the danger it posed. She couldn’t let him take it. With the last of her strength, she raised her wand, pointing it at the surrounding trees. “Bombarda Maxima!” she screamed again, her voice cracking from the effort. The trees around them exploded in a deafening cascade, splinters and branches collapsing like a storm.

Grindelwald stepped back, his shield shimmering once more to protect him from the falling debris.

But Lilia used the chaos to her advantage. Clutching her side, she staggered to her feet and ran. Her bare feet sank into the snow, each step sending pain shooting through her body. The cold bit into her skin, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Grindelwald’s laughter echoed behind her, chilling her more than the winter air.

“Run, little traveler,” his voice called, dark and amused. “Run as far as you like. But you can’t run from what you are. Or what you will become.” Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled deeper into the forest, her blood leaving a crimson trail behind her. 

She couldn’t look back. Not now. Not ever.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Blood poured out of all the lacerations across her body, and Lilia cried in pain and fear. Her legs gave out, and she braced for the fall.

However, a pair of strong, warm arms caught her before she hit the ground, pulling her in close. The person holding her carefully lowered her to the snowy forest floor. She barely registered the world around her, her hand still pressed weakly to the injury on her stomach. Her mind swam with incoherent thoughts. The pain was too much, and she didn’t have the energy to even think of using the counter-curse for Snape’s curse. Muffled footsteps crunched in the snow, growing louder as people rushed toward her.

“Lilia! Merlin, she’s bleeding too much,” Celeste’s voice rang out, high and frantic. Lilia wanted to reassure her, to tell her it was nothing, but instead, a cough racked her body, and blood dripped from her lips.

“Lilia, look at me.” The smooth, commanding voice broke through her haze. She tried her best to focus on Tom, who had shifted her from his arms into Celeste’s, taking charge with practiced calm. Celeste cradled her head as Tom crouched next to her, his dark eyes scanning her with urgency.

“She’s losing too much blood. Her vision is unfocused,” he muttered sharply. “Celeste, don’t let her go unconscious.”

“Lilia, focus on me,” Celeste begged, her voice trembling but firm. “Open your eyes. Don’t close them. Stay awake.”

Tom moved to inspect the injury, his face tightening when he saw how much blood was pooling in the snow. He pried her trembling hand away from the gash, revealing the wound, and his stomach churned at the sight. Without hesitation, he ripped her dress to expose more of the injury, ignoring Celeste’s indignant gasp. The dark crimson of her blood was indistinguishable from the burgundy fabric of her dress, soaking into the snow beneath her.

“Vulnera sanentur,” Tom murmured, his wand moving in precise, deliberate patterns over her abdomen. His voice was low and steady as he repeated the incantation again and again, the magic knitting her torn flesh together. He grimaced at the depth of the wound, the blood loss, the faint scar left behind even after the injury closed. Finally, the flow of blood stopped, and he sat back on his heels, exhaling heavily.

Celeste gently tapped Lilia’s face. “Hey, hey. Wake up, you’re okay now.” Lilia’s lashes fluttered, and she blinked sluggishly until her vision began to clear. The sharp pain in her abdomen was gone, though her body still felt weak and heavy.

Her gaze dropped to her stomach, where her dress had been torn open to reveal the scar and dried blood left behind. When she finally looked up, her eyes met Tom’s, who was watching her intently. His face was calm, but his expression was cold, stern, a contrast to his earlier urgency. There was no relief in his gaze, only anger simmering beneath the surface. The intensity of it sent a shiver down her spine.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Before they had found her, the group had been frantic. After the guests began leaving the ball, they noticed Lilia’s absence. They searched every room, every corridor, every hidden corner of the manor. There was no sign of her.

“She wouldn’t have left the manor,” Tiernan said, pacing in the library. “She can’t be that reckless.”

“Then where is she?” Evangeline snapped, her anxiety rising. “We’ve checked everywhere!”

It was only when Abraxas looked out the window and noticed flashes of light in the forest that they realized where she had gone. The group froze, exchanging uncertain glances.

“She went into the forest?” Icarus muttered, his voice laced with disbelief. “Why would she-”

“Let’s move,” Tom interrupted, already heading for the door. The others followed quickly behind him, their nerves growing with every step.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Now, as he stared down at Lilia, the anger he felt earlier resurfaced in full force. She had taken his ring and disappeared into the night, putting herself in harm’s way. His fingers twitched at the memory of finding the Gaunt ring on her finger, gleaming mockingly as if it had always belonged to her. He kept this discovery to himself, though, even as his rage simmered. The others crowded around, their panic evident.

“What was she thinking?” Evangeline whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at the torn remnants of Lilia’s dress and the blood-stained snow.

Tom barely registered their words. His eyes stayed on Lilia’s pale face, and he felt his control slipping.

Without meaning to, he dove into her mind, the weakened state of her occlumency walls offering little resistance. Her memories flooded in: a storm of emotions and fragments, disjointed but potent. He moved through them carefully, sifting through the chaos until one memory crystallized before him.

“We have no choice, do we?” Theo’s voice was solemn, his face blank, but his eyes betrayed his heartbreak.

“We don’t.” Lilia’s voice sounded fragile, raw with unspoken pain. She blinked back tears and swallowed her sobs. “We have to break up, Theo.”

“ I know. It all just sounds like a sick and cruel joke. No one thought he would be coming back.”

“I know. I know it too. I just- I want to stay with you.” 

Her voice cracked, pleading, and it sent a strange pang through Tom’s chest.

“ I want to stay with you too, love. But we are not on the same side. My stupid fucking father had to be a fanatical death eater, out of all the things he could have done. Fucking bastard.”

The memory felt so visceral, so intimate, that Tom found himself clenching his jaw against the wave of emotion. Their pain, their longing- it was suffocating. And then, just as abruptly, the memory shifted.

The second memory was fragmented and faint, as though Lilia’s mind was trying to bury it.

Flashes of green and red light. A duel that shook the earth. Grindelwald’s unmistakable figure loomed in the chaos, his presence as commanding as it was sinister. And then, a shadowy figure stepped forward, their identity obscured.

Lilia’s voice echoed faintly through the haze, trembling with desperation, “No, don’t-” A loud crash, a burst of light, and then silence. The memory dissolved into darkness, leaving Tom with more questions than answers. He couldn’t make sense of it, but the weight of it lingered.

Tom pulled back abruptly, his breathing shallow as he returned to the present. Lilia’s eyes fluttered, dazed and unfocused, her face pale and streaked with dried tears. Her head lolled against Celeste’s shoulder, her body limp from exhaustion.

His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of what he had seen. The first memory was raw and emotional, revealing a side of Lilia he hadn’t been prepared for despite everything he already knew about her- vulnerable, human, and deeply scarred. But the second memory… it was different. Cryptic and heavy, it hinted at something far darker. Something tied to Grindelwald.

Tom straightened, his expression hardening as he studied her unconscious form. Anger simmered beneath the surface, anger at her for taking his ring, for defying him, for keeping secrets.

But beneath that anger was also… concern.  “She’ll be fine now,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him.

Celeste nodded, cradling Lilia protectively. “She’s been through too much,” she murmured. “We should take her inside.”

Tom lingered behind as they made their way back to the manor, his gaze fixed on the dark forest where they had found her. His mind replayed the cryptic fragments of her memory, the shadowy figure and her desperate cry. “No, don’t-”

What had she seen? What did she know?

The faint trail of blood in the snow glistened under the moonlight, a stark reminder of how close she had come to death. His fingers twitched at his side, itching to summon the ring back to him. It had felt wrong to see it on her finger, as though she had claimed something that wasn’t hers. And yet, he had allowed her to keep it. For now.

Tom’s dark eyes narrowed. Lilia Rousseau was hiding something, something dangerous. And while he didn’t know what it was yet, he was certain of one thing: he had to find out.

Chapter Text

Lost in the blur of her mind, Lilia felt the weight of her actions pressing down on her chest like an immovable boulder.

She wasn’t supposed to be in this time. She wasn’t supposed to see Theodore’s face again, to feel the raw agony of losing him for good. Even unconscious, pain rippled through her like waves, tightening her chest until it felt like she couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t just heartbreak. It was despair, the kind that seeped into every corner of her being, making her wish she could vanish entirely.

She had loved Theodore, truly, but this pain was so much more profound.

Before, she had always known he was alive somewhere, even if far away. But now? Now he was gone. And she had seen him, spoken to him, only to lose him again. It was cruel. Too cruel. Mourning wasn’t new to her, but this felt different.

Her grief had always been unpredictable, either silent and lingering, like an ache that never fully healed, or sudden and all-consuming, reducing her to tears at the smallest trigger.

The memories of her duel with Grindelwald bled into her guilt about what had happened afterward.

Tom. 

His cold gaze flashed in her mind, and she shivered despite the warmth of the blanket draped over her. He had seen one of her memories. He had used legilimency on her in her weakest moment, prying into a place he had no right to. Yet… she had no room to protest. She had taken his ring without permission, acted impulsively, and endangered not only herself but everyone else. What did her friends think of her now?

Her thoughts spiraled further.

Grindelwald.

He would find out. Or at least suspect enough to set his sights on one of her friends. How had she been so reckless? Lilia swallowed hard, a sharp pang of shame rising in her throat. She had given away too much in her desperation, and now everything felt fragile. If Grindelwald made the connection, he could destroy Tom, and everything she was trying to preserve.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia’s mind stirred before her body did, the weight of her injuries and exhaustion making every movement feel like a battle. The soft crackling of a fire filled the room, accompanied by the faint rustle of fabric. She blinked slowly, her vision hazy, her head heavy.

The first thing she registered was warmth, a sharp contrast to the biting cold of the forest. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the ornate furniture of the Malfoy manor’s guest room. She shifted slightly, wincing as pain lanced through her abdomen and left arm.

“Finally awake, Rousseau?” The low, familiar voice snapped her fully into consciousness.

Her heart stuttered as she turned her head to see Tom Riddle seated beside the bed. His posture was composed, his hands clasped loosely in his lap, but his dark eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. He didn’t look relieved to see her awake. If anything, he looked… furious.

“Tom,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. She tried to sit up but stopped when pain flared in her stomach. She bit back a cry, pressing her hand lightly to the bandage wrapped around her frame.

“Don’t move,” he said curtly. “You’ll tear the wound open again.” The coldness in his tone stung more than her injuries. Lilia swallowed thickly, leaning back against the pillows as she watched him warily. His gaze was sharp, cutting into her like a blade.

“How long have I been here?” She asked quietly, her voice unsteady. “Six hours,” Tom replied, his tone clipped. “It’s morning now.”

Lilia glanced toward the window, noting the pale gray light filtering through the curtains. She turned back to him, hesitant. “Were you… here all night?”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” His voice was calm, but the edge to his words made her stomach twist. “You disappeared, left us scrambling to find you, and nearly got yourself killed in the process.” She looked down, guilt weighing heavily on her chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Sorry?” Tom leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes narrowing. “You cast a spell to evade us, stole my ring, and ran into the forest without a word. You expect me to believe you’re sorry?”

Lilia flinched, the heat of his anger making her feel smaller. “I didn’t mean to-”

“To what? Betray us? Put yourself in danger? Make yourself a target for Grindelwald?” He cut her off, his voice low and biting. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Rousseau. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Her throat tightened, and she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I… I needed the ring.”

Tom scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “And you thought stealing it was the best way to get it?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” Her voice cracked, and she hated how weak she sounded.

“You always have a choice,” he snapped. “But instead, you keep hiding things. Keeping secrets. Expecting us to trust you while giving us nothing in return.”

His words struck a nerve, and Lilia’s eyes filled with tears. She bit her lip, trying to hold them back. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” Tom demanded, his voice rising slightly. “What are you so afraid of that you can’t even be honest with us?” She didn’t answer, her mind racing as she struggled to find the right words. But there was no right way to explain. Not without revealing everything.

Tom’s eyes darkened further, his patience wearing thin. “You’re keeping something from me, Lilia. Something important. And I will find out what it is.” Lilia’s stomach churned. She couldn’t let him know the truth. Not about the ring, not about Grindelwald. The thought of him piecing it all together sent a wave of panic through her.

“You used legilimency on me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tom’s expression didn’t waver. “You left me no choice. Your mind was practically an open book after what happened in the forest.”

Lilia’s chest tightened. “You had no right-”

“And you had no right to take my ring,” he cut her off, his voice sharp. “But you did it anyway.”

Her hand instinctively went to the ring still on her finger. She hadn’t even realized she was still wearing it. “I… I was going to give it back.”

“Were you?” Tom’s gaze bore into her. “Or were you planning to keep it for yourself?”

She hesitated, and he shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “You’re full of secrets, Rousseau. And yet, you expect me to let this go.”

“I’ll explain,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “Just… not now. I need time.” Tom stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re lucky I’m patient.”

She blinked, surprised by his words. He noticed her reaction and smirked faintly, though there was no humor in it. “You still have my ring, you know.” Her eyes flicked to the ring on her finger, guilt washing over her anew. “Do you… want it back?” Tom’s gaze lingered on the ring for a moment before returning to her. “Keep it,” he said, his tone softer than before. “For now.” The unexpected response left her speechless. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again when no words came.

Tom stood, his movements deliberate and precise. “Rest up. You’ll need your strength.”

“Tom-” She reached out, grabbing his wrist weakly. His skin was warm under her trembling fingers, and he stilled at her touch. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking to her hand on his wrist before meeting her gaze. Something flickered in his expression, a softness that quickly disappeared. With a sigh, he sat back down. “You’re trembling,” he said quietly.

“It’s… just tremors,” she admitted reluctantly. “I need a calming draught.”

His expression softened slightly, though he didn’t comment. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying her intently. “You have so many secrets, Lilia. It’s hard to trust you when you won’t trust me.”

Her chest tightened at his words, guilt threatening to consume her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible. Tom didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached out, gently pulling the blanket higher over her shoulders. “Get some rest.”

Lilia watched him in silence as exhaustion pulled her back under. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was that she needed to protect him: from Grindelwald, from the hallows, and from the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

She would never understand why she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep even with an aspiring dark wizard in the same room. Perhaps it was the complete lack of similarities between them that made it easier to let her guard down. Despite his many flaws, Tom had always been composed and deliberate. She even felt safe enough to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her for no reason. At least, not yet.

After their tense conversation that morning, she hadn’t taken off his ring.

Multiple times, she found herself tempted to summon one of her loved ones, to see Theo again or perhaps her brother, but she always stopped herself. Theo’s parting words haunted her: “Don’t let Grindelwald, or me, or anyone else keep you trapped in the past.” And he was right. She wouldn’t be able to move on if she kept tethering herself to the past.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The six Slytherins gathered in the library, the firelight casting long shadows across their tense faces. Tom sat in his usual chair, legs crossed, one hand resting on the armrest while the other tapped rhythmically on his knee. His expression was impassive, but his eyes were distant, clearly deep in thought.

“I just don’t understand how none of us noticed her leaving,” Icarus said, breaking the silence. His voice carried a note of frustration. “We were all there, and yet she just… slipped away.”

“She didn’t just slip away ,” Abraxas said sharply, crossing his arms. “Something’s not adding up. It’s like we were… distracted or dazed. How could we have all missed her leaving and taking Tom’s ring?”

That remark drew the group’s attention, though they avoided looking directly at Tom.

Evangeline frowned. “You’re saying she cast a spell on us?”

Abraxas let out a bitter scoff. “What else could it be? You think she just strolled out without anyone noticing? And why take the ring? What was so important that she needed it?”

Celeste, sitting on the couch next to Evangeline, bristled at his accusatory tone. “She was scared, Abraxas. She’s been through so much already. Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Abraxas shot her a disbelieving look. “Not thinking clearly? She went into the forest, alone, at night, and ended up duelling Grindelwald! How is that not reckless?”

Evangeline sat up straighter, her voice firm. “She’s not reckless. You know what she’s been through in France. She’s here because she’s running from him, not looking for a fight.”

“Then why did she take Tom’s ring?” Abraxas retorted. “Why risk everything just to run into the forest with his ring?”

Tiernan cleared his throat, his tone neutral. “Maybe she didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand. We don’t know what she was thinking. It’s not fair to assume.”

Tom’s fingers stopped tapping, and his dark eyes flicked to the group. “She used the confundus charm,” he said calmly, his voice cutting through the rising tension. The room fell silent as everyone turned to him.

Celeste looked confused. “What?”

“She used a Confundus Charm on all of us,” Tom continued, his tone detached but precise. “That’s why none of us noticed her leaving. It wasn’t immobilization or anything so obvious. It was subtle, just enough to keep us unaware.”

Abraxas looked furious. “And you just figured this out now?”

Tom’s gaze turned cold. “I suspected as much when I noticed the ring was missing. None of you even realized it was gone until we found her.”

Icarus frowned, sitting back in his chair. “So she charmed us, stole the ring, and ran off. Why would she need it?”

“That’s the real question,” Tiernan said quietly, glancing at Tom. “You’ve always been good at reading people. Do you think she’s hiding something?”

Tom didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “She’s hiding many things. But whatever her reasons, she’s not careless. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

Abraxas’s frustration boiled over. “And you’re just okay with that? She lied to us, manipulated us, and now we’re supposed to trust her?”

Tom’s eyes flashed dangerously, silencing him. “I didn’t say I trusted her. But I trust my own judgment. And right now, I think it’s in all our best interests to keep her close.”

Evangeline’s voice softened, cutting through the tension. “She’s not our enemy, Abraxas. She’s just… lost. You saw her. She nearly died out there. Whatever she’s hiding, she’s not doing it to hurt us.”

Abraxas looked unconvinced but said nothing more. Tiernan and Icarus exchanged uncertain glances, while Celeste nodded quietly in agreement with Evangeline. Tom, however, remained silent, his mind working through the fragments of memory he had seen when he delved into Lilia’s mind.

The shadowy figure in the chaos. Lilia’s desperate cry. 

His fingers curled slightly, resting on the armrest of his chair. She was hiding something, and it was something big. But for now, he would wait. Lilia Rousseau was a puzzle he intended to solve.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Theo’s advice lingered in Lilia’s mind during the following days as she rested. This was a second chance, however strange and unwanted, that fate had handed her. She couldn’t squander it. She had to try to live her life differently this time, to fix what had gone so horribly wrong. If she spent enough time with her friends, maybe, just maybe, she could steer them away from the dark paths they were destined to tread.

And Tom… If she could show him the beauty of life, could she distract him from his obsession with immortality? She hoped so.

The Gaunt ring now joined the necklace Theo had gifted her and her bracelet as jewelry she never removed. It felt heavy on her finger, a constant reminder of the fine line she was walking. Her friends hadn’t reacted as strongly to her impulsive actions as she had feared, but she suspected it was because of Tom.

Whatever Tom Riddle had said to them after the incident in the forest seemed to have tempered their anger.

The days after the ball blurred together for Lilia. Christmas had come and gone in quiet whispers, overshadowed by her recovery. Evangeline and Celeste barely left her side, determined to keep her company while the boys went out for a night in Diagon Alley.

“You really should have gone with them, you know,” Lilia mumbled, leaning back against her pillows.

Evangeline waved her off. “Nonsense. A trip to Diagon Alley isn’t nearly as interesting as staying here with you.”

“And you don’t think I’m boring?” Lilia teased, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Lils, you? Never.” Celeste grinned, propping herself up on the bed beside her. “Though I must say, you do have a knack for dramatic entrances. Duelling Grindelwald in the forest? Honestly, where do you get the energy?”

Lilia groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Please don’t remind me.”

“Fine,” Evangeline chimed in, “but we do need to talk about something else…” Her tone shifted to playful mischief, and Lilia instantly felt wary. “What is it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Celeste leaned forward, her expression gleeful. “Why are you still wearing Tom’s ring?”

Lilia froze, the question hitting her like a hammer. “He never asked for it back,” she mumbled, looking anywhere but at her friends.

Evangeline gasped dramatically. “Lilia, are you serious? He gave it to you.”

“He didn’t give it to me,” Lilia argued, her cheeks heating. “I just… kept it.”

“And he let you,” Celeste pointed out, her grin widening. “Lilia, you’re wearing Tom Riddle’s ring. Do you know what that means?”

“No, and I don’t want to,” she shot back, though her flushed face betrayed her.

“It’s like he’s claimed you!” Evangeline teased, earning a scandalized gasp from Lilia. “Claimed me? I’m not some prize!”

“You might as well be, walking around with his ring on your finger,” Celeste added, laughing.

Lilia groaned. “You two are insufferable.”

“Maybe,” Evangeline admitted with a shrug, “but you’re blushing, which means we’re onto something.”

Once the laughter died down, Celeste’s expression grew more thoughtful. “You know, I used to have the biggest crush on Tom.” 

“What?” Lilia and Evangeline exclaimed in unison.

Celeste shrugged. “Since first year. He was mysterious and brilliant, and I was young and impressionable. But…”

“But?” Evangeline prompted, leaning closer. “I got over it. And now…” Celeste hesitated, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Now I’m seeing Icarus.”

“You’re what!? ” Lilia and Evangeline’s voices pitched higher, their disbelief palpable.

Celeste burst into laughter. “We’ve been seeing each other for a little while. We kissed at the Slug Club dinner, and well… things just escalated.”

Lilia’s jaw dropped. “That explains why you both looked so disheveled that night!”

Evangeline smirked. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us! And here I thought Icarus was just being charming.”

“He’s actually a sweetheart,” Celeste admitted, her cheeks pink. “I didn’t expect it, but he’s so thoughtful and… well, let’s just say he’s full of surprises.”

The conversation turned to Lilia, who had been listening quietly, amused but hesitant to share. Evangeline caught her hesitation and pounced. “What about you, Lilia? Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

Lilia blinked, caught off guard. “I- Well, yes.”

“And?” Celeste prodded, her grin wicked.

“And what?” Lilia asked, flustered.

“Details, obviously!” Evangeline laughed. “Did you two, you know…?”

Lilia’s face turned crimson. “No! Merlin, no. We… kissed. That’s it.”

Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Just kissed? Nothing else?”

“Well…” Lilia trailed off, her mind flashing back to her moments with Theo. His hands on her waist, her lips on his neck, the quiet, stolen moments that had felt like lifelines in the chaos of Hogwarts. Her heart twisted painfully, and she pushed the memories aside. “We kissed a lot,” she admitted finally.

Celeste groaned in mock disappointment. “How scandalously tame.”

“Not everyone moves at your pace, Cel,” Lilia teased, earning a laugh from Evangeline.

The conversation inevitably circled back to Tom, as Lilia should have expected. “Alright, one more question,” Evangeline began, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Lilia groaned. “No, absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!”

“Yes, I do, and the answer is no.”

Celeste joined in, grinning. “Do you think Tom is attractive?”

Lilia froze, her mind betraying her yet again. She thought of his sharp jawline, his intense eyes, the way he carried himself with quiet authority. Her cheeks burned hotter than ever, and she buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, that’s a yes,” Evangeline teased, her laughter bubbling up.

“It’s not!” Lilia protested, her voice muffled.

“Lilia, you’re literally wearing his ring,” Celeste pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

Evangeline smirked. “Sure it doesn’t. You can’t even say his name without blushing.”

“I hate both of you,” Lilia muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics: school gossip, fashion, and their plans for the rest of the holidays. For a few precious hours, Lilia felt like a normal girl, laughing and teasing and sharing secrets with her friends.

It was a welcome reprieve from the weight of her responsibilities and the danger looming over them. And though she knew it wouldn’t last, she held onto the warmth of their companionship, tucking it away in a corner of her heart where the darker thoughts couldn’t reach.

For now, Lilia allowed herself to relax, to smile, to be present. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a flicker of hope.

Chapter Text

Lilia stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, her gaze fixated on the newest scars etched onto her skin.

A deep crimson slash marred her stomach, its edges raised, while the one on her arm seemed to mock her resilience. The sight of them filled her with a mix of frustration and self-loathing.

Grindelwald had anticipated her weaknesses, played on them effortlessly, and she had let him. Of course, he had known who she was. He was Gellert Grindelwald, one of the most powerful wizards alive. How could she have expected anything less?

Her fingers grazed her scars absentmindedly, the touch sparking memories of countless battles. Each mark was a testament to survival, but instead of pride, she felt only bitterness.

She had survived Voldemort’s wrath, fought Death Eaters alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione, yet here she was, making mistakes as though she hadn’t learned a thing. Grindelwald had recognized her vulnerabilities and exploited them, and now she had yet another adversary to add to the ever-growing list of people who wanted her dead, or worse, alive for what she knew.

She let out a shaky breath, her reflection staring back at her with the same accusatory look she gave herself.

Lilia had always relied on logic and reason, even when her emotions threatened to overtake her. She was the calm one, the one who could push her feelings aside for the greater good. Yet, with Grindelwald, she had faltered. He had struck where it hurt most, wielding Theodore’s name like a blade. And instead of thinking clearly, she had let herself get emotional. She had let herself react.

It wasn’t the first time her emotions had betrayed her. During the horcrux hunt, she had prided herself on her ability to keep Harry and Ron grounded, to work alongside Hermione in ensuring they stayed safe. The two girls had always taken on the quiet, thankless role of caretakers, even when it rankled. They had been captured so the boys could escape; they had borne the brunt of pain because it was “easier” for everyone.

It had worked then, but now, as she faced this new world, she wasn’t sure how much more she could bear.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for two vials of calming draught, downing them quickly to quiet the noise in her mind. The familiar warmth of the potion began to dull her nerves, smoothing the edges of her anxiety.

Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve, and she was determined to start the new year with purpose. She needed to get her friends something, anything , as a gesture of goodwill, even if she couldn’t bring herself to fully trust them yet.

They had insisted she stay in bed, practically ordered her to rest because of her injuries. But Lilia couldn’t sit idle, not when her mind constantly churned with guilt and memories she couldn’t escape. It wasn’t like she hadn’t fought through worse before; dueling Death Eaters while half-dead had been routine. This was nothing.

She’d be back before anyone even noticed she was gone.

Pulling on a thick, knitted turtleneck, she transfigured her white skirt into a pair of black trousers. Practicality won over vanity as she laced up heavy boots and shrugged into her thick winter coat. She adjusted her scarf, the soft wool brushing against her chin, and grabbed her wand.

Her heart pounded as she prepared to leave.

A nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her of the risks, of how she was barely healed, of how Tom, of all people, had been the one to save her. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on her task. With a sharp turn on her heel, she apparated, leaving the quiet stillness of her room behind.

Lilia stumbled slightly when her feet landed on the soft snow of Diagon Alley, the familiar disorienting pull of apparition still leaving her slightly breathless. She took a deep breath, her boots crunching against the melting snow as she steadied herself. She had done this countless times before, but it never got easier.

She exhaled and smiled faintly as she took in her surroundings, expecting the warmth and bustle she had always associated with the magical marketplace. But her smile faded as she scanned the quiet, grey streets.

The festive cheer she remembered was absent. The cobblestones were slick with slush, and the shopfronts looked tired, their windows lacking the usual holiday decor. The occasional witch or wizard hurried past her, heads down, avoiding eye contact. No children’s laughter, no crowds bustling in and out of shops. Diagon Alley felt lifeless, a shadow of what it had once been.

Her steps faltered as she passed a news-stand and caught sight of the day’s headline.

The Blitz continues: German troops counterattack and bomb Coventry, killing over 500 Muggles.

She stared at it for a moment, her stomach twisting. She had almost forgotten ( how could she have forgotten?) that the muggle world was at war. The second world war, raging across Europe, casting its shadow even here.

The wizarding world was not immune. She had read about shortages of potion ingredients, wand cores, and other magical supplies, but Hogwarts and the Malfoys seemed untouched by these hardships. She shook her head bitterly, her mind drifting to the stark inequalities she had witnessed in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

Wealth, privilege, and pureblooded status insulated people like the Malfoys, allowing them to carry on as if wars, muggle or magical, were someone else’s burden.

As she moved through the eerily quiet streets, she tried to push away her anger. Her thoughts turned to the friends she was shopping for. She feared she didn’t know them well enough, that her gifts wouldn’t be meaningful. And yet, she wanted to try. Even though she often felt like an outsider among them, she couldn’t deny that their companionship had brought her some sense of belonging in this strange, unfamiliar time.

Her thoughts wandered further, landing on Tom. He had carved out a place for himself in this privileged world, not because he shared their values, but because he was clever enough to know how to play their game.

Her expression softened as she thought of him, of the boy who lingered so often in her mind. He had not had the comforts of privilege growing up. An orphan like her, he had been forced to claw his way up through sheer determination. He was a dedicated student, balancing academics with his growing influence over their group.

She had to commend him for his relentless drive, how, in the future, he would push himself so far into the dark arts that it would alter his very appearance.

Tom Riddle never left a job half-done. He had lost someone he cared for, too.

Myrtle Warren.

Lilia often wondered how much that loss had shaped him. He was so full of secrets, and despite everything, she wanted to unravel them. To peel back the layers and understand him in ways no one else could.

Her shopping trip, however, was anything but leisurely. The emptiness of the streets made her hyper-aware of how much had changed. She longed for the days when Diagon Alley had been alive with chatter and laughter, when she could complain about the crowds but secretly enjoy the chaotic warmth they brought. Now, the silence was oppressive, and the cold seeped into her bones.

When she returned to the manor two hours later, her arms full of carefully chosen gifts, she was greeted by the sound of raised voices coming from the dining room. She hesitated on the staircase, her curiosity piqued. Quietly, she moved closer, stopping just outside the door to listen.

“She got into a duel with Grindelwald, out of all people.” Abraxas’s voice carried through the room, sharp with frustration. “Don’t you think it looks bad for us that he saw us at the ball with her? It’s not exactly the impression we want to make.”

“I understand your frustration,” Tom replied evenly. “But it’s not as simple as that. They seem to share some… history.”

“That’s what makes it worse,” Abraxas snapped. “Grindelwald is no fool. He’ll start asking questions about why we were associating with her. He’ll see her as a liability, and by extension, he’ll see us as weak.”

“We didn’t defend her,” Tiernan interjected, his tone calm but firm. “We barely interacted with her at the ball. If anything, Grindelwald likely sees her as separate from us.”

“And yet,” Abraxas countered, “he knows who we are now. He knows our families. He could use her against us.”

The room fell silent for a moment before Tom spoke again. “You’re overthinking this. Grindelwald has bigger concerns than a group of Hogwarts students. If anything, his interest in her could work to our advantage.”

“Or it could get us killed,” Abraxas muttered darkly.

“I said enough, ” Tom snapped, his voice cutting through the tension. “We’re not abandoning her.”

Lilia’s breath caught in her throat at his words. She hadn’t expected him to defend her so firmly, especially not after what she had done.

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, Icarus,” Tiernan said, breaking the silence.

“I think Tom has a point,” Icarus said thoughtfully. “Grindelwald’s perception of us will depend on how we handle ourselves moving forward. If we act like we have something to hide, we’ll draw his attention.”

Abraxas huffed but said nothing, clearly dissatisfied. “Icarus is right,” Tom said, his tone softening. “We need to be strategic. This isn’t the time for fighting.”

Evangeline and Celeste exchanged a glance before Celeste spoke up. “Tom, earlier you mentioned rethinking our stance. What did you mean by that?”

Tom exhaled slowly, as if weighing his words. “I’ve been reviewing our history. The numbers don’t lie. The wizarding population has been in decline for centuries. If we continue down this path of pureblood supremacy, we’re condemning ourselves to extinction.”

A stunned silence filled the room.

“So you’re suggesting… what? That we abandon everything we’ve been taught?” Abraxas asked, his voice incredulous.

“I’m suggesting that we adapt,” Tom said firmly. “Half-bloods and even muggleborns are part of our world, whether we like it or not. We need them if we’re going to survive.”

Lilia’s heart pounded as she listened, a mix of disbelief and cautious hope filling her chest. Had she really influenced him that much?

When Lilia finally entered the dining room, the conversation had shifted to lighter topics. But the tension lingered, unspoken and palpable. Abraxas barely acknowledged her, his cold gaze lingering on his plate. The others offered polite smiles, but their expressions were guarded.

Tom, however, met her eyes and gave a small nod, his face unreadable.

As she sat down for breakfast, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Not just within the group, but within Tom himself.

And though she didn’t fully understand what it meant, she knew one thing for certain: her presence here was changing things, in ways she had never anticipated.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia stood in front of the mirror, her fingertips ghosting over the fabric of the dress.

The Malfoys had left it for her as a gift, simple but elegant. Black, form-fitting, with long sleeves and a neckline that dipped low enough to leave her feeling both exposed and confident. She had concealed the scars on her chest, her reflection a mix of poised calm and lingering vulnerability.

She had dressed up for countless New Year’s Eve celebrations before, but this one felt different. Intimate. Heavy.

When she joined Evangeline and Celeste in their room, the quiet normalcy of their chatter while they got ready brought her some measure of comfort. The simplicity of picking jewelry, braiding hair, and fussing over makeup felt like a moment stolen from her old life; a rare chance to feel like a girl preparing for a night of festivities, not someone carrying the weight of an entire timeline on her shoulders.

By the time they descended the staircase, the boys were waiting at the bottom, dressed sharply in suits. Lilia avoided looking at Tom outright, knowing all too well how handsome he would look.

But when her eyes briefly flicked to him and caught the way his gaze lingered on her, she felt her pulse quicken. She quickly glanced away, biting her lip to stifle the small smile threatening to form.

Dinner with the Malfoys was surprisingly warm. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were gracious hosts, their affections for Abraxas spilling over to his friends. Yet, despite the warmth, Lilia couldn’t ignore the cool tension in Abraxas’s demeanor toward her. His icy glances reminded her that her presence was still contentious, her influence over Tom a source of frustration for him. She tried to remain polite, but her chest tightened every time she caught his gaze.

After dinner, the group retired to the sitting room, the formal atmosphere giving way to laughter and games. Truth or dare, sneaking sips of firewhisky, and harmless pranks filled the hours.

For a moment, it almost felt like they were simply enjoying themselves, unburdened by politics or dark futures.

But Lilia’s mind wandered. She excused herself quietly, slipping away to retrieve the gifts she had bought for them during her brief trip to Diagon Alley.

She moved quietly through the halls, leaving each gift at her friends’ doors. Small tokens, carefully chosen to reflect the pieces of themselves they had shared with her.

She hesitated before entering Tom’s room, the green gift bag clutched in her hands. Her fingers hovered over the doorknob, but before she could place the bag down, a voice cut through the silence.

“What are you doing?”

Lilia flinched, turning to find Tom leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes watching her intently. There was something in his gaze, curiosity, suspicion, and the faintest flicker of amusement.

“Oh, hi, Tom,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi, Lilia,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Caught, she let out a small laugh and handed him the bag. “This is for you. Happy birthday, Tom.”

The surprise on his face was fleeting, but she caught it before his expression settled back into its usual composure. “How did you know it was my birthday?” His voice was soft, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.

“I have my ways,” she said with a shy smile, not wanting to admit just how much she had studied about him in her own time.

Tom took the bag, his fingers brushing hers briefly, and for a moment, his expression softened. He opened it slowly, his movements uncharacteristically hesitant. Inside, he found a carefully curated selection: Persian tea, a quill set with inks of varying shades, and fine parchment.

“Well, I got you tea because I noticed you prefer it over coffee,” she explained nervously. “This one is Persian tea, similar to Earl Grey but stronger. And the quills and ink... I thought your handwriting is beautiful, and maybe you could use these for something other than schoolwork. I- I’m rambling, aren’t I?” She chuckled awkwardly, biting her lip.

Tom’s frown deepened, but not in annoyance. The weight of her thoughtfulness pressed against the walls he had so carefully built around himself.

“Do you not like it?” She asked, her voice faltering.

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I do. It means a lot.” His voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “I’ll use them. Thank you.”

She beamed at him, and he felt his breath hitch. The crooked smile she gave him, the warmth in her eyes, it was disarming. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget who he was supposed to be.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly, surprising them both.

“Where?”

“I need a smoke.”

Without really knowing why, Lilia followed him. She left the gift bag on his desk and retrieved her coat, but he stopped her. “Don’t worry about that,” he murmured, casting a warming charm on her instead. They stepped out onto the balcony of the manor.

The stars glimmered faintly overhead, scattered across the dark sky, and she couldn’t help but tilt her head back to admire them.

Tom moved with practiced ease, settling into one of the worn chairs by a small table. He retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, the flame briefly illuminating his sharp features before the darkness reclaimed him.

Lilia lowered herself into the chair across from him, silent but not uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” he said softly after a moment, the smoke curling from his lips and lingering in the cold air.

“For what?” she asked, her voice equally soft.

“For the gift,” he replied. His eyes flicked to her, the expression there unreadable. “It was thoughtful. Too thoughtful.”

Her cheeks warmed under his gaze, and she shrugged lightly. “It’s your birthday. I wanted to do something nice.”

“You’re the first person to remember,” he admitted, the words spoken so quietly she almost missed them. He took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. “Other than Myrtle.”

The name hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken grief.

Lilia’s chest tightened, and she shifted in her seat, leaning forward slightly. “You loved her,” she said, not as a question but as a statement of fact.

Tom’s eyes stayed fixed on the stars, the cigarette balanced delicately between his fingers. “I guess,” he admitted, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. “She was… kind to me in a way no one else ever was. She made me feel human.”

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “And then she left. By her own choice. I could have stopped her, but I didn’t. I didn’t even see it coming.”

“She wouldn’t blame you,” Lilia said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Tom didn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretched between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw. “Sometimes I think she would. She always told me I needed to be softer, to let people in. Maybe if I’d listened to her…” He trailed off, the cigarette forgotten in his hand.

Lilia swallowed the lump in her throat, the ache in his voice mirroring her own buried grief. “I look at the stars when I miss the people I’ve lost too,” she said after a moment. “It’s silly, but it helps. I like to think they’re up there, watching over me.”

Tom’s gaze shifted to her, his dark eyes glinting with something she couldn’t name. “Do you believe that?”

“I have to,” she said simply. “Otherwise, I don’t know how I’d keep going.”

He nodded slowly, turning his attention back to the sky. “Myrtle would be up there, wouldn’t she? One of the brightest ones, I imagine.”

“She would,” Lilia agreed, her lips curling into a faint smile. “And you’d know where to find her whenever you needed her.”

A silence fell between them again, but it was heavier this time, laden with emotions neither of them could quite put into words.

Lilia’s eyes stung, her vision blurring as memories of her own losses flooded back. She bit her lip, willing the tears to stay at bay, but her breath hitched audibly.

“You can cry, Lilia,” Tom said gently, his voice breaking through the storm of her emotions. She turned to him, startled by the tenderness in his tone.

“It’s your birthday,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

“You won’t,” he said firmly. “You’ve already made it better than I could have imagined. Let yourself feel. It’s not a weakness.”

The dam broke, and Lilia buried her face in her hands as sobs wracked her body. She felt his hand on her shoulder, a steadying presence as she let the pain pour out of her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to console her with empty words. He simply sat with her, his hand warm and grounding against the chill of the night.

“I miss them so much,” she choked out between sobs. “Theo, Harry, Luna… All of them. I should have done more. I should have-”

“You did everything you could,” Tom interrupted, his voice steady. “And they knew that. They wouldn’t want you to carry this guilt forever.”

She looked up at him, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the faint glow of the stars. “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen it,” he admitted. “That guilt. It eats away at you until there’s nothing left. You have to let it go, or it will destroy you.”

She sniffled, nodding slowly as his words sank in. The weight in her chest didn’t vanish, but it eased, just a little. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Tom leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long breath. “You’re stronger than you think, Lilia. Don’t forget that.”

They sat in silence after that, the only sounds the soft crackle of his cigarette and the distant pop of fireworks in the sky.

Lilia didn’t pull away when he reached for her hand, their fingers lacing together in a quiet gesture of solidarity. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she wasn’t carrying the weight of her grief alone.

When midnight struck, the fireworks lit up the sky, their bursts of color reflected in Tom’s dark eyes.

He turned to her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Happy New Year, Lilia.”

She squeezed his hand gently, her own lips curling into a soft smile. “Happy New Year, Tom.”

And for a moment, under the light of the stars and fireworks, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Chapter Text

Lilia had barely adjusted to her time at the Malfoy manor when it was time to return to Hogwarts. The transition felt abrupt, and she wished for just a few more days to breathe.

When she walked into her dorm with Evangeline and Celeste by her side, a small sigh escaped her. The familiar sights of Hogwarts offered little comfort. She had completed three months of her sixth year since being thrust back into the past. That time had been enough to observe and analyze Tom Riddle, piecing together what made him tick. He wasn’t Voldemort, not yet, and she had decided with firm resolve that she wouldn’t hesitate to disrupt the timeline if it meant preventing the wars that defined her past.

Her existence in this era felt almost spectral: working in the background, unseen and unacknowledged. It wasn’t fair, but fairness had never been a constant in her life. If she could ensure a better future for the wizarding world, she would accept the burden, even if no one ever knew what she had done.

The first day back was unforgiving. Lilia scheduled a meeting with Professor Dumbledore before classes began, desperate to address the repercussions of Grindelwald's growing interest in her. She wasn’t sure how much to reveal, but she decided honesty was her safest bet. At least when it came to him.

Lilia stood in front of Dumbledore’s desk, her hands clasped tightly to keep from fidgeting. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the morning light, but it did little to ease the tension in her chest. Dumbledore sat on the other side, his piercing blue eyes fixed on her, radiating a calm yet attentive presence.

“A lot has happened during the winter break,” she began, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. Dumbledore nodded, gesturing for her to continue. “Grindelwald knows who I am.”

That drew a flicker of surprise across his face, though he quickly masked it. “And how, if I may ask, did he come to know that?”

Lilia hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not really sure… But he is interested in his own death in the future.”

Dumbledore leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression unreadable, though a shadow passed over his features. “I see.”

“He wants to know who kills him,” Lilia added, her voice faltering slightly. “And he’s determined to find out.” There was a long pause, and Lilia could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. Finally, he asked, “Do you know who it is?”

She nodded. “I do.”

Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened, though his voice remained calm. “Then it is not just your life that is in danger. Whoever this person is, they are now a target as well.”

“Can Hogwarts protect us, Professor?” She asked, the weight of her question heavy in the air.

“Hogwarts has stood for centuries, its walls imbued with protections crafted by the greatest witches and wizards of their time,” he replied, his tone reassuring yet thoughtful. “But Grindelwald is no ordinary wizard. He is... brilliant in ways most would not understand. He would not dare launch a direct attack here. Not when he knows what this castle stands for and who resides within it. That being said, I will look into strengthening our wards further.”

Lilia nodded, comforted by his confidence, though a gnawing doubt lingered. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that Voldemort had eventually conquered Hogwarts, reducing its defenses to rubble during her time. “Thank you,” Lilia said softly, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m sorry for all of this, for bringing this danger here.” Dumbledore’s expression softened, a trace of a smile playing on his lips. “This is not your fault, my dear. Grindelwald’s actions are his own, as are his choices. You cannot bear the burden of what you could not control.”

His words were kind, but Lilia caught something deeper in his tone, a faint wistfulness that made her pause. For a moment, it was as though he wasn’t speaking solely to her but also to himself. She ventured cautiously, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know him well, Professor? Grindelwald, I mean.” Dumbledore’s smile faded slightly, and he turned his gaze toward the window, where the morning sun filtered through. “Once upon a time,” he said, his voice quiet, almost reverent, “we were... acquainted. It was long ago, when we were both young and full of ideals. We believed we could change the world, though our visions of what that world should be differed greatly in the end.”

There was a weight to his words, a hint of regret that Lilia couldn’t ignore. She wondered if the “differences” he spoke of were what ultimately led to their infamous duel. “Do you think he can be stopped?” She asked hesitantly. Dumbledore’s eyes returned to hers, a spark of determination rekindling in their depths. “Anyone can be stopped, Lilia, if one is willing to stand against them. Grindelwald’s strength lies not just in his power but in his ability to inspire and manipulate. It is his ideas that are dangerous, his belief in domination and superiority.” His gaze softened again, and he added, almost as if to himself, “But even the brightest flames can burn out.”

Lilia didn’t know how to respond, sensing there was much more to his words than what he was willing to share. Instead, she nodded, absorbing his quiet resolve. “I’ll do my part,” she said after a moment, her voice steadier now. “Whatever it takes to keep my friends safe.” Dumbledore’s smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I have no doubt that you will. And know this, Lilia: you are not alone in this fight. Hogwarts will protect you as best it can, and I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety.”

The conversation ended shortly after, but as Lilia left the office, her mind buzzed with the implications of what she had learned. Dumbledore’s calm assurance had steadied her, but his subtle hints about Grindelwald lingered in her thoughts. There was a history there, one marked by idealism and heartbreak, and she couldn’t help but wonder how that history might shape the battles yet to come.

By the time her first class, Potions, rolled around, Lilia was already on edge. The idea of sitting beside Tom and Abraxas made her uneasy. Abraxas had been colder than usual since the winter break, his frosty demeanor cutting through her attempts at reconciliation. She hurried to Tom’s left side, pointedly avoiding the Malfoy heir’s piercing glare.

“Hi,” she greeted Tom with a shy smile, warmth flickering in her gaze. She couldn’t help but recall the intimate moments they had shared on his birthday. “Morning.” Tom’s tone was casual, though there was an undercurrent of curiosity in his expression. He seemed to notice her unease and added quietly, “Don’t worry about Abraxas. He just needs time.” Lilia bit her lip, feigning innocence. “Is it because of… you know?” Tom’s lips quirked upward slightly. “I think we all need a long talk about that. But it’ll be fine.”

His calm reassurance disarmed her, as it always did. Tom Riddle had an uncanny ability to make her feel seen, even in her most vulnerable moments. It was unsettling, the way he could shift between calculated detachment and genuine warmth. He was an enigma she couldn’t help but be drawn to, even though she knew better. For the first time in years, she felt like she mattered, and she couldn’t deny how intoxicating that feeling was.

Later that evening, they gathered in the Slytherin common room, the warm glow of the fire casting shadows across their faces. Laughter and conversation from other students filtered in faintly from the background, but within their small circle, the atmosphere felt brittle, like a glass about to shatter.

Tom stood at the center of the group, leaning slightly against the back of a chair. His posture was relaxed, his expression calm, but his dark eyes flicked from one face to another, measuring, calculating. “We need to talk,” he began, his tone deceptively light but carrying a weight that silenced the murmur of idle chatter among them.

“We’re in a delicate situation,” he continued, his gaze lingering on each of them in turn. “Grindelwald is aware of us, and that’s not something we can afford to take lightly.”

Evangeline shifted uneasily in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “He wouldn’t come after us here, would he?” she asked, her voice soft but uncertain.

“Hogwarts is safe,” Tom replied smoothly. “Dumbledore sees to that. But we can’t ignore the fact that Grindelwald now knows we exist. And more importantly,” he added, his gaze sliding briefly to Lilia, “he knows about her.”

The air seemed to grow heavier. Lilia felt their eyes on her, some curious, others openly skeptical. She straightened her back, meeting their gazes with what she hoped was calm confidence.

Abraxas leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression cold and appraising. “And why, exactly, does Grindelwald care about you?” He asked, his tone clipped.

Lilia hesitated, her mind scrambling for the right response. “He believes I have information he wants,” she said evenly.

“Do you?” Abraxas pressed, his pale blue eyes narrowing.

There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other. “Sort of,” she admitted, her voice calm but her heart racing. She could feel Tom watching her, his gaze steady, as if he were trying to unravel her secrets without saying a word.

“Sort of,” Abraxas repeated, the skepticism in his tone sharper now. “That’s vague enough to mean nothing.”

“That’s all you’re going to get,” Tom interjected smoothly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His eyes flicked to Abraxas, holding the Malfoy heir’s gaze. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation.” Abraxas’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving Lilia. “You’re hiding something. And whatever it is, I hope for all our sakes that it doesn’t blow up in our faces.”

Lilia opened her mouth to respond, but Tom’s voice cut across her thoughts. “Enough,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Whatever she knows or doesn’t know is irrelevant. Grindelwald has taken an interest, and that’s the real issue. We need to focus on what happens next.”

The group fell silent, though the tension was palpable. Abraxas leaned back, his expression one of reluctant acquiescence, while Tiernan and Icarus exchanged uncertain glances. Celeste and Evangeline sat quietly, their expressions unreadable.

“We’ll train,” Tom continued, his tone shifting to one of calm authority. “Every day before dinner, we’ll train together. Wand work, defense, and strategy. We need to be ready for anything.”

Evangeline nodded, though her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. “That makes sense,” she said, her voice quiet. “We’ll need to be prepared.”

The others murmured their agreement, though Lilia could sense the tension simmering beneath the surface. Even as they nodded and voiced their assent, the cracks in their unity were beginning to show. Abraxas’s cold glances, Tiernan’s wary silence, even Tom’s subtle shifts in tone, it was all there, a web of distrust and doubt threaded through their interactions.

When the meeting broke up, their goodnights felt hollow, the usual camaraderie muted by the unspoken weight of their situation. As they left the common room one by one, Lilia lingered behind, her thoughts a tangled mess.

She felt Tom’s presence before he spoke, his voice low and measured. “Don’t let him get to you.” Lilia turned to face him, her brow furrowing. “It’s not just him. It’s… all of this. I’ve put everyone in danger.” Tom’s dark eyes held hers, his expression unreadable. “We were already in danger. Grindelwald was always going to notice us eventually. You didn’t change that.” She wanted to believe him, but the weight of her guilt was suffocating. “You don’t understand,” she said quietly. “I’ve made things worse. For all of you.” Tom studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “You have secrets, Lilia. We all do. But if you want to survive this, you need to decide who you trust. And quickly.”

She nodded, though her throat felt tight. She wasn’t sure she could trust anyone, not fully. But as Tom turned to leave, his words echoed in her mind, a reminder that no matter how close they seemed, their unity was fragile.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia found herself spending more time with Tom and the others during their dueling sessions. True to his words, the seven of them gathered the following evening to practice, their steps echoing in the otherwise quiet castle. Lilia followed them upstairs, her heart pounding as they approached a seemingly blank stretch of wall. She pretended not to know that they were heading to the Room of Requirement, feigning surprise when a door appeared as if conjured by magic.

Tiernan smirked, ever eager to show off. “This, my dear Lilia, is the Room of Requirement,” he announced smugly. “It gives us exactly what we need. For practice, for privacy, for anything, really. No one can trace the magic used here. Even spells that are… less than legal.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow, playing along. “So you’re saying this room is perfect for your, ah, extracurricular activities?”

Celeste grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling. “Aren’t you excited about trying out some darker spells, Lilia?”

Lilia forced a smile, her chest tightening at the memory of the dark spells she’d been forced to use during the war. The lines between right and wrong had long blurred for her; survival had demanded it. She should have been alarmed at the nonchalant way her friends spoke of using the Unforgivables, but instead, she felt strangely at ease among them. Perhaps it was because she had seen the future, the bloodshed, the chaos, and these carefree, ambitious students were still so far from becoming the monsters they were destined to be.

When they stepped inside, the room shifted into a large expanse resembling the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, with tables pushed to the edges and plenty of space to duel. The others grinned, clearly familiar with the setup, while Lilia ran her fingers along the edge of a table, pretending to be fascinated. 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Evangeline said with a smirk, drawing her wand and stepping into the center of the room.

The dueling sessions were far more grueling than Lilia had anticipated. Each evening, they stretched before jumping straight into practice, and by the end of each session, her muscles ached and her mind felt drained. The group fought viciously, spells flying fast and furious, and injuries were almost inevitable. But what struck her the most was Tom.

Tom Riddle was a natural. Every flick of his wand, every calculated movement seemed effortless. It infuriated her. She had spent years honing her skills, fighting for her life in the war, and yet Tom, with no real-world experience, matched her blow for blow. No, he didn’t just match her, he surpassed her.

One evening, after being disarmed by him for the fourth time, Lilia clenched her fists, swallowing her frustration. He was a diligent learner, she reminded herself. She could see the subtle adjustments he’d made based on her advice from their duel at the Malfoy manor. He practiced endlessly, pushing himself to the edge of exhaustion, and she couldn’t help but admire his dedication.

There had to be hope for him. There was still time to change his path. She glanced at him, his face lit with determination as he sparred with Tiernan, and felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite name. If only she could find a way to keep him from turning into Voldemort, to save the young man who was so capable of both ruthlessness and care.

When they finished the session that evening, Lilia trudged downstairs, her body sore and her mind buzzing. She still winced slightly as she entered the Great Hall, her eyes scanning the room out of habit. It was packed, students chatting animatedly as they enjoyed their dinner. She was about to sit with her usual group when a familiar voice called out.

“Lilia!” 

She turned to see Septimus and Caspian waving her over from the Ravenclaw table. A wave of guilt washed over her as she realized she hadn’t spoken to them much over the winter break. “Hey!” she greeted, walking over to join them. “Merlin, it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Septimus exclaimed as she sat down. “Want to join us for dinner?” “Sure,” Lilia said, settling in between the two boys. The warmth of their smiles felt like a balm to her nerves after the intensity of the dueling session.

“How was your break?” she asked, genuinely curious. “Chaotic, as always,” Septimus replied, grinning. “Caspian spent Christmas with my family, and let’s just say the Lovegoods and the Weasleys aren’t exactly the most harmonious duo.”

Lilia chuckled. “What did you do?”

“Ate too much, drank too much, and played a ridiculous number of games. Oh, and I beat Caspian at chess,” he added smugly.

Caspian rolled his eyes. “You didn’t beat me. I let you win.”

“Sure you did,” Septimus retorted, grinning.

Lilia smiled at their banter, feeling a pang of longing for the simpler, lighter moments she’d shared with her own friends back in the future. “And you? How was the illustrious Malfoy manor?” Caspian asked, his tone casual but his expression curious.

“It was… nice,” Lilia said hesitantly. “We celebrated Christmas and New Year together. It was quieter than I expected.”

Caspian’s expression darkened slightly, and she frowned. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s just…” he hesitated, glancing at Septimus before continuing. “The Malfoys and your friends, they’re all from notorious pureblood families. Considering your background… did they treat you well?”

Lilia knew he was referring to Grindelwald and her supposed reason for being in Britain. “They wouldn’t hurt me,” she assured him. “We don’t always agree, but they’re my friends. And I believe they can change.”

Septimus snorted. “You think a Malfoy and a Lestrange can change? Merlin, Lilia, you’re more naive than I thought.”

“Why not?” She challenged, a spark of defiance in her voice. “People can change if they want to.”

Septimus raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Their families are notorious for sticking to their ideals. It’s in their blood.”

“Maybe,” Lilia said quietly, “but I’ve seen people change. It’s not impossible.”

Their conversation shifted after that, returning to lighthearted banter, but Lilia’s mind was elsewhere. She glanced across the hall, her eyes landing on Penelope at the Hufflepuff table. The blonde girl was laughing, her expression carefree, but Lilia couldn’t shake the image of the scars on her back.

Her heart ached as she thought of Tom and the others, wondering if she was being naive in believing they could change. But as her gaze drifted back to the Slytherin table, to Tom’s familiar figure, she felt a flicker of determination. 

She had to believe in them. In him. If she didn’t, who else would?

Chapter Text

It was Hogsmeade weekend again, and Lilia welcomed the chance to escape the castle. The cold, crisp air nipped at her cheeks, but she felt lighter than she had in days. Snow blanketed every surface, transforming the bustling village into a winter wonderland. For once, she allowed herself to relax. Hogsmeade had always been a place where she could let her guard down. Here, surrounded by the familiar hum of chatter and the smell of warm butterbeer, she could pretend that her life wasn’t steeped in secrets and looming dangers.

She had wandered into the candy shop, intent on replenishing her dwindling stock of sweets, when she realized she wasn’t alone. Abraxas Malfoy hovered a few steps behind her, his frosty demeanor still firmly in place. The tension between them was palpable, a silent reminder of the cold glances and curt words he had thrown her way since the conversation in the Malfoy dining room.

Lilia busied herself scanning the shelves, determined to ignore his presence. She couldn’t help but smile when she found a jar of sherbet lemons. They reminded her of the bright moments she used to share with Theo, his laughter ringing out whenever they argued over who had eaten the last piece. Unbeknownst to her, Abraxas watched her closely, his sharp eyes taking in the soft curve of her smile.

The silence stretched uncomfortably as they moved through the aisles. Abraxas pretended to browse, but every time she paused to examine something, he quietly added it to his own growing collection.

He hadn’t planned on accompanying her, nor had he planned on softening toward her. But seeing her now, fussing over jars of candies as if the weight of the world weren’t crushing her shoulders, made him question his earlier assumptions. She wasn’t what he had expected when she first entered their circle. She wasn’t cunning or loud, nor did she flaunt her connection to Tom like others might have. She was… quiet. Almost painfully so. And the thoughtful basket of tea she had left in his room after New Year’s had unsettled him in ways he couldn’t articulate.

Still, she was a mystery, and mysteries were dangerous.

When they reached the counter, Lilia placed her selection down, only to gasp in surprise when Abraxas stepped forward and handed the cashier several galleons. “What are you doing?” She demanded, her tone incredulous. “Consider it a gift for Christmas,” he replied curtly, though his lips twitched upward in the faintest hint of a smile. “That’s a lot of candy, Abraxas!” She exclaimed, clutching the basket he had placed in her arms.

“Well, you better eat at least one a day,” he quipped, the rare warmth in his tone catching her off guard. She blinked, then broke into a grin that lit up her face. “Let me treat you to butterbeer,” she said mischievously, already tugging him toward the door.

“Wha-” “I’m not taking no for an answer,” she teased, her voice playful. He followed, pretending to be annoyed, but the uncharacteristic smile that lingered on his lips betrayed him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Inside the Three Broomsticks, the pair settled into a booth close to the counter. The golden glow of the pub’s lanterns cast a soft light over them, and for the first time, the tension between them eased.

Lilia took a long sip of her butterbeer, humming appreciatively at the sweet warmth that spread through her. “I’m guessing you liked your gift, then?” She asked, her voice soft. Abraxas set down his glass and nodded. “It was thoughtful. I liked it a lot.” Her smile widened. “I’m glad to hear that, Abraxas.”

His expression grew serious, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. “Lilia, I need you to be honest with me.” Her smile faltered. “What is it?” “Why is Grindelwald after you?” The question hit her like a hex to the chest, and she lowered her eyes to her drink. “I… I can’t say much,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll also get hurt, won’t we?” He pressed, his tone heavy.

Yes . The word screamed in her mind, but she couldn’t say it aloud. “I would hope not,” she said instead, her voice trembling slightly. “But that’s why we’re practicing together every day.” Abraxas sighed and leaned back in his chair, his frustration evident. “What is it with you and your secrets?” He muttered. “I’m sorry I dragged you all into this mess,” she whispered, biting her lip as guilt gnawed at her.

For a moment, he said nothing, his icy gaze fixed on the ceiling. “It’s just… We all have our family names protecting us. Except for Tom.” His voice softened, his usual sharpness giving way to something almost vulnerable. “Grindelwald would probably strike him first if he decided to.” Her heart clenched painfully at the thought of Tom facing Grindelwald. “It won’t get that bad,” she said, her voice firm with conviction. “I won’t let it.”

Abraxas studied her intently, searching for something in her expression. She seemed so resolute, so determined to protect them all. He wanted to believe her, but doubt lingered in the corners of his mind. “Okay,” he said finally, his voice quiet.

As he sipped his butterbeer, he made a silent vow: if it came down to it, he wouldn’t hesitate to protect Tom. Even if it meant putting himself in harm’s way.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Meanwhile, across the street, Tom emerged from a dimly lit bookstore, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. The scrap of parchment in his pocket held the instructions for a potion that would finally reveal Lilia’s birthdate. It had been a coincidence, really, stumbling upon her file during a visit to Dippet’s office. But something about it gnawed at him. The date read only July 31st. No year. No further detail. Was it merely an oversight? Or was it the key to something much bigger?

The genus potion was invasive, something he had wrestled with as he copied the recipe. But curiosity burned within him, and the mystery of her missing birthdate was a thread he couldn’t resist pulling.

As he made his way to the Three Broomsticks for a celebratory butterbeer, he spotted Abraxas’ platinum hair through the frosted window. His gaze flicked to the girl sitting across from him, and though he refused to acknowledge the relief he felt, a small part of him was glad to see her.

“Lilia, you have some of the beer on your mouth,” Abraxas noted, his voice quieter than usual. Lilia frowned, immediately feeling self-conscious as she tried to lick away the foam moustache she was sure was there. “Is it gone?” She asked, her cheeks warming slightly.

“No,” Abraxas replied, his own brows furrowing as he watched her fumble with the attempt. After a few failed tries, he sighed audibly. “Here,” he said, leaning forward before he had the chance to second-guess himself. His thumb brushed softly against her upper lip, the gesture deliberate yet careful.

Lilia froze, feeling the surprising warmth of his touch. Abraxas didn’t pull away, his gaze inadvertently dropping to her lips. Plush. Pink. Soft. For the first time, he wondered what it might feel like to close the distance, to know her in a way that wasn’t supposed to matter. The thought startled him, and he yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. His pulse hammered against his ribs as he glanced away, mortified by his own thoughts.

Lilia, equally flustered, averted her eyes. Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to break the silence with a light laugh. “Thanks,” she mumbled, though she avoided looking directly at him. The moment hung in the air between them, thick and heavy.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Tom’s voice sliced through the atmosphere like a blade, cold and sharp. His dark eyes flicked between them, narrowing slightly as he took in their expressions. Lilia’s flushed cheeks. Abraxas’ tense posture. Something bitter curled in Tom’s chest, and his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“No. I- I have to use the bathroom,” Abraxas stammered, standing so abruptly he nearly knocked over his glass. He muttered a quick excuse before practically fleeing toward the back of the bar.

Tom slid into the seat Abraxas had vacated, his presence commanding and unrelenting as he cornered Lilia. His long fingers tapped against the table once, a deliberate gesture that made her look up at him. “Do you like Abraxas?” He asked, his voice deceptively casual, though there was an edge to his words that betrayed him.

“What? No, I don’t,” Lilia said, her voice rising in slight indignation. But then, seeing the faint annoyance in his expression, she smirked. “Are you jealous, Riddle?” His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk. “Why would I be jealous?” “You tell me,” she countered, the playful glint in her eyes daring him to react. Tom leaned closer, his voice low and cutting. “I won’t be jealous of someone who can’t even do the most mundane task.”

Before she could respond, he reached out, his fingers brushing against her upper lip. Lilia stilled, her breath hitching as he wiped away the last of the foam that Abraxas hadn’t managed to. His touch was feather-light, deliberate, and unbearably intimate. He didn’t break eye contact as his thumb lingered for just a moment too long, gliding across the middle of her upper lip before trailing down to her lower one.

Time seemed to stand still as he leaned closer, his dark eyes fixed on hers. Lilia couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, and she hated how much she wanted him to close the distance. He smelled like parchment and mint, a scent that had become both comforting and maddeningly distracting.

Tom’s gaze dipped briefly to her lips before flicking back to her eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “I’ll never be jealous of Abraxas, Lilia,” he murmured, his voice so low it sent a shiver down her spine.

But as he pulled back, she saw something change in his expression. Uncertainty. Hesitation. And for the briefest moment, she allowed herself to believe that Tom Riddle wasn’t as unshakable as he wanted everyone to think despite his quiet confidence.

Lilia blinked, breaking out of her daze as Tom called over a waitress to order a butterbeer. He acted as though nothing had happened, his demeanor as cool and composed as ever. But she wasn’t fooled. She could feel the weight of what had just transpired in the lingering warmth of his touch on her skin.

She grabbed her glass and took several hurried sips of butterbeer, desperate to calm the storm of emotions swirling within her. She hated how easily he got under her skin, how much she wanted more of the brief, fleeting moments when he let his guard down. She hated the way her heart betrayed her, beating faster whenever he was near.

“Cat got your tongue?” Tom asked, his smirk returning as he leaned back in his seat, exuding an air of nonchalance. “Not at all,” she snapped, scowling at him. “Right. Whatever makes you feel better,” he drawled, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, do you always have to be such an ass?” she retorted, narrowing her eyes at him. “Language,” Tom reprimanded, arching a brow. “Or what?”  “Do you want to find out?” His tone was strict, his words carrying a weight that made her swallow hard. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Riddle,” she finally said, her voice defiant despite the way her pulse raced. “As you wish, your highness,” he replied, sarcasm laced through every syllable. “Don’t call me that,” she shot back, her glare sharp. “Or what?” He challenged, his gaze unwavering as he mirrored her earlier words.

Before either of them could escalate further, Abraxas returned to the table, his expression carefully neutral. “Cosy in here,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he took a sip of his butterbeer. “It’s your friend,” Lilia muttered, crossing her arms as she glared at Tom.

Abraxas shrugged, seemingly indifferent, though his gaze darted between the two of them, sensing the charged tension he had walked into. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were drowned out by a deafening explosion.

The wall by the entrance shattered into pieces, sending wood and stone flying in every direction. Screams erupted around them as patrons scrambled for cover, the room plunging into chaos.

Lilia’s wand was in her hand in an instant, her instincts kicking in as she dropped low and yanked Abraxas down with her. Her heart pounded as she scanned the room, her breath catching when she spotted the symbol emblazoned on the cloaks of the intruders. Grindelwald’s mark.

The words were muffled, but months of working with the Order had sharpened her ears. “Our targets are the six from the manor,” one of them barked, his voice sharp and authoritative. Celeste, Evangeline, Tom, Abraxas, Icarus, Tiernan. The realization hit her hard.

“Move!” She hissed, shoving Abraxas toward the back. “We have to get out!”

Tom was already on his feet, his wand drawn and his expression set in cold determination. The room was a whirlwind of chaos, but his mind was razor-sharp. He caught Lilia’s eye, a silent exchange passing between them: they would fight if they had to.

This wasn’t just an attack. It was a message.

Chapter Text

Lilia’s thoughts swirled in her mind, convinced that Grindelwald had sent his men to eliminate her friends. During their duel, she had been reckless, her anger and grief slipping through the cracks of her carefully constructed facade. That moment of carelessness had given Grindelwald all he needed to piece things together- that it wasn’t just her but someone close to her who would one day end his life. If he couldn’t pinpoint who it was, then the answer was simple: eliminate them all.

Screams echoed around them as chaos engulfed the pub. Tables overturned, shattered glass crunching beneath hurried footsteps, and people pushed past in their desperate bid for safety. Lilia barely registered the noise. Her sole focus was on Abraxas and Tom, both of whom she shoved toward the back of the bar with urgent force.

“What-” Tom began, but his words were drowned out when Lilia fired a spell at the wall behind them, blasting it apart. Snow and cold air rushed in as the makeshift exit loomed before them. “No time for questions!” With a flick of her wand, she blasted apart the rear wall, exposing them to the biting snow and crisp winter air. Shards of wood and stone sprayed out into the cold as her spell struck true.

“What in Merlin’s name-” Tom started, his voice trailing off when he saw her step into the snow-covered alley, her jaw set, her eyes sharp and focused.

She took a deep breath, centering herself amidst the chaos. Happiness. She reached deep into her memories, forcing herself to think of every fleeting moment of peace and love: Harry’s laughter, Theo’s smirk, Remus’s kind words, late-night talks with Evangeline and Celeste, and even stolen moments with Tom. Her hand tightened around her wand. “Expecto Patronum!” She cried, her voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air.

A shimmering Newfoundland dog erupted from her wand, bounding forward in radiant, silvery light. Its glowing form was almost blinding against the darkened streets. Tom and Abraxas froze for a fraction of a second, both stunned. Lilia’s patronus wasn’t just powerful; it was luminous, almost alive in its intensity. The dog circled her briefly before she commanded, “Find Evangeline, Celeste, Tiernan, and Icarus. Meet at the Hog’s Head Inn.” With an obedient bark, the patronus bounded off, weaving through the destruction like a beacon of hope.

Tom’s eyes narrowed, but there was no time to question her as two black-cloaked figures apparated directly in front of them. Lilia didn’t hesitate. Her wand whipped up, and before Tom or Abraxas could react, she fired a barrage of curses- dark spells they had never seen her use before.

The first spell hit one of the cloaked figures like a hammer, throwing them back several feet. They scrambled to raise a shield, but Lilia’s reflexes were faster, her wand flicking sharply as she hurled another dark spell at them, forcing them further back. Tom’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise darting across his features as he recognized the incantations she was using. Spells that required both precision and a certain ruthlessness to execute.

“What the hell?” Abraxas muttered under his breath, his grip on his wand tightening as he shot a glance at her.

Lilia didn’t notice. Her focus was unrelenting. She blocked and deflected curses with a ferocity neither of them had seen during their practice duels. Red and purple streaks of light crackled through the air, her shields shimmering with an intensity that left her opponents visibly frustrated. Even as she dodged, her movements were swift, graceful, almost instinctual, as though she had been trained on the battlefield itself.

“She’s holding her own against them,” Abraxas muttered, half to himself, as he cast his own shield to deflect a curse. “More than that,” Tom said, his voice low. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in her spells. She wasn’t dueling to spar, she was fighting to incapacitate, to dominate. And she was winning.

The fight escalated as more cloaked figures apparated, surrounding them. Lilia’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched Tom and Abraxas join in, their own spells slicing through the air. But she didn’t let up. Her wand slashed through the cold air with precision, and a sickening scream tore through the chaos as one of her curses landed. Their robes began melting into their skin, a grotesque sight that made Abraxas flinch. “Where in Merlin’s name did she learn that?” Malfoy muttered, his voice tinged with unease. Tom said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on Lilia, his mind working overtime. She was using spells he had never seen her use before, spells that were darker, crueler, but undeniably effective. And she wielded them with the kind of ease that came from experience, not theory.

Another cloaked figure crumpled to the ground under her curses, blood pooling around them as it poured from their nose, mouth, and ears. Lilia’s lips curled into a smirk, a flicker of satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. For a brief moment, Tom caught a glimpse of something he hadn’t seen before, raw and unyielding. It sent a shiver down his spine.

Abraxas, too, was struck by her ruthlessness. This wasn’t the girl who cautiously avoided injuring them during practice. This was someone who had been on the receiving end of darkness and had learned to wield it in return.

“Keep moving!” Lilia snapped, breaking them out of their thoughts. She parried another spell and sent a stunner hurtling back toward its caster. “We need to reach the inn!”

The three of them moved as one, their steps synchronized even amidst the chaos. As they approached the Hog’s Head Inn, the trail of incapacitated enemies they left behind was a testament to their combined ferocity. For Tom and Abraxas, though, it was Lilia who stood out. She was a force they hadn’t quite reckoned with before.

When they finally crossed the threshold of the inn, breathing heavily but unharmed, Tom couldn’t help but steal a glance at her. She stood tall, her chest heaving, her knuckles white from the tight grip on her wand. There was blood on her cheek, not her own, but someone else’s, and her eyes burned with a fierce determination that left him speechless.

She wasn’t just a girl caught in their orbit. She was a fighter, a survivor, and, in that moment, something more dangerous than he could have ever anticipated.

And Tom Riddle found himself both unnerved... and even intrigued.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia heaved a sigh of relief when she saw that the rest of their friends were already at the inn, albeit battered and bruised. Evangeline and Celeste limped heavily, their movements slow and deliberate, while Icarus cradled his broken arm against his chest, his face pale from pain. Tiernan seemed to be the only one untouched by the attack, though the tension in his posture revealed how close he had come to injury.

The Hog’s Head Inn, untouched by the chaos outside, was eerily empty save for Aberforth Dumbledore behind the counter, his brows furrowed as he polished a glass with deliberate care. He froze the moment Lilia burst in, her friends trailing behind her in confusion.

“We need to use the tunnel to Hogwarts,” she said quickly, her voice taut with urgency. Aberforth gave her a hard, suspicious look. “What tunnel?” “The one behind your sister’s portrait. Please- Albus told me about it,” she pressed, her eyes darting to the windows as she expected Grindelwald’s men to arrive at any moment. “We don’t have time.” Aberforth’s expression darkened. “So he remembers Ariana and me, does he? How convenient-”

The sound of another explosion interrupted him, shaking the inn. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and the noise of shattering glass in the distance made Lilia’s desperation grow. “Please! They’re after us. We need to get to safety!” She pleaded, her voice breaking slightly as she looked at him with wide, imploring eyes. Aberforth studied her for a moment longer before he sighed heavily. “Tell him he owes me for this one,” he muttered, disappearing behind the counter. He pulled aside the portrait of a young girl, revealing a dark passageway beyond.

Lilia turned to her friends, waving them forward. “Go! Quickly!” she urged. Aberforth stepped aside as the group hurried past. “I’ll hold them off if they come in here,” he said gruffly. “Thank you,” Lilia said, her voice thick with gratitude as she and Tom were the last to enter. The portrait swung back into place behind them, plunging them into darkness.

“Lumos,” Lilia whispered, the tip of her wand lighting up the narrow tunnel. The others followed suit, their wands illuminating the space with a soft glow.

“Wait, what is this?” Tiernan asked, his voice filled with disbelief as he looked around at the tunnel.

“It’s a path to Hogwarts,” Lilia explained, keeping her voice even as she began to lead the way.

“And how exactly do you know about it?” Tiernan pressed, his tone tinged with suspicion.

“Dumbledore told me,” she said shortly, not wanting to divulge the real reason she knew the passageway so well. The truth, that she had used it during the war with Harry, was too dangerous to reveal.

Behind her, Icarus groaned in pain, his broken arm clearly causing him considerable discomfort. Celeste whispered softly to him, her hand on his shoulder as she tried to soothe him. Abraxas, uncharacteristically silent, supported the injured boy with a firm grip to keep him steady.

“Icarus, how’s your arm?” Lilia asked, glancing back at him.

“It’s broken, Rousseau,” he said through gritted teeth. “Some idiot blasted me into a wall at Madame Pudifoot’s. Completely ruined my date with Celeste.”

Lilia gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “We’ll be at the infirmary soon.”

“Wait,” Tiernan interrupted, his voice rising in disbelief. “A date with Celeste? Are you two dating now?”

The guilty look that passed between Celeste and Icarus was answer enough.

Tiernan’s jaw dropped as he alternated between staring at them. “And no one told me?!”

“Hey, I’m dealing with a broken arm!” Icarus snapped, wincing as he adjusted his position.

“That’s what you get for lying to me!” Tiernan shot back, smacking the back of Icarus’ head lightly.

Lilia chuckled softly at their antics, but her amusement faded as she noticed Tom walking silently beside her. He had been unusually quiet since they escaped the inn, his expression unreadable.

“Are you alright?” She asked gently, her voice low enough that the others wouldn’t overhear.

“I’m fine,” Tom replied curtly, his gaze fixed ahead.

“And you?”

“I’m alright,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure it was true. “It’s just… it was close back there.”

Tom glanced at her, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “The man at the inn. Who was he?”

“Dumbledore’s brother,” Lilia admitted after a pause.

“Dumbledore has a brother?”

“Yes.”

Tom studied her, his expression thoughtful. “How did you know?”

“He told me about the passageway in case anything ever happened,” she lied smoothly, hoping it was enough to satisfy his curiosity.

“You and Dumbledore are closer than I thought,” he remarked, his tone neutral but his words heavy with implication. Lilia didn’t respond, focusing instead on the path ahead. She could feel Tom’s gaze lingering on her, as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

By the time they reached the end of the tunnel, the group was exhausted. Emerging into Hogwarts’ lower levels was a relief, but the weight of the attack still clung to them. As they ascended to the infirmary, the silence between them grew heavier, broken only by Icarus’ occasional groans of pain.

Once they arrived at the infirmary, they were met with chaos. Healer Brightward, a no-nonsense witch with sharp eyes and graying hair pulled into a severe bun, was tending to the injured students. Her robes were stained from healing salves and hurried movements, but she carried herself with practiced efficiency.

“What happened to him?” Brightward asked brusquely as she examined Icarus’ arm.

“Broken bone,” Celeste said quickly, worry etched across her face.

Brightward tsked under her breath. “Severe break-bone regrowth it is. He’ll be in pain, but it’s the best option.” She waved her wand over Icarus, summoning a steaming goblet of Skele-Gro. “Drink. And don’t whine about the taste.”

Icarus scowled but obeyed, grimacing as he downed the vile liquid. “Merlin’s beard, that’s horrible.”

“Noted,” Brightward said dryly before turning her attention to Celeste and Evangeline. “Sprained ankles? Easy fix.” With a flick of her wand, she muttered an incantation, and both girls sighed in relief as their injuries were healed. “You three are sorted. Now out of my way. I’ve got other patients to tend to.”

Celeste lingered by Icarus’ bedside, pulling up a chair and muttering something to him that made his lips quirk into a small smile. Evangeline sat nearby, chatting quietly with Tiernan, while Abraxas stood off to the side, arms crossed as his sharp eyes tracked every movement in the room.

Lilia, meanwhile, found herself standing by the window, staring out at the darkening sky. The events of the day replayed in her mind, each moment sharper than the last. She clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening as guilt threatened to overwhelm her.

Tom approached her silently, his presence almost imperceptible until he spoke. “You knew about the tunnel,” he said softly, his tone more curious than accusatory.

Lilia turned to face him, her expression guarded. “I did.”

“How?” he asked, his dark eyes searching hers for answers.

“Like I said, Dumbledore told me,” she said, the lie slipping from her lips smoothly. “He said it was a last resort in case anything ever happened.”

Tom tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “You always seem to know more than you should.”

She swallowed, holding his gaze. “I was lucky. That’s all.”

He stepped closer, his presence both grounding and unnerving. “No, it’s more than that. The spells you used today, they weren’t luck.”

Lilia blinked, surprised by the shift in conversation. “What about them?”

“They weren’t what you’ve shown us during practice,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You were holding back with us.”

Her heart sank. She had hoped they wouldn’t notice, but of course, Tom would. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” she admitted quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor.

“And today?” he pressed, his tone sharper.

“Today wasn’t practice,” she said, her voice firm. “It was life or death.”

Tom studied her, his expression unreadable. “You’re capable of more than you let on. You incapacitated Grindelwald’s men like it was second nature.”

Lilia met his gaze, her jaw tightening. “It wasn’t easy.”

Tom took another step closer, his voice dropping even lower. “It looked easy. Almost like you’d done it before.”

Her breath hitched, but she refused to look away. “I’ve fought before, Tom. You know that.”

“Not like this,” he countered, his tone laced with suspicion. “Those curses… they weren’t just dark. They were calculated.”

Lilia bit her lip, unsure how much to reveal. “I did what I had to do.”

Tom’s eyes flicked over her face, searching for something she wasn’t sure she wanted him to find. “You’re full of secrets, Rousseau.”

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. “Aren’t we all?”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them was palpable, charged with unspoken words and buried truths. Finally, Tom broke the silence. “You’re dangerous.” Lilia’s heart skipped a beat at his words, but the way he said it wasn’t laced with fear or disdain. If anything, it sounded like admiration. “So are you,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

A faint smirk played on Tom’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not the one surprising everyone.”

Lilia turned back to the window, her reflection faintly visible against the dark glass. “Let’s just get through this, Tom. One battle at a time.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia’s thoughts churned as they made their way to the Slytherin common room. The echoes of the Great Hall, students whispering and speculating about the attack, clung to her ears. It reminded her too much of the chaos during her time in the war. Her steps faltered slightly as memories of mobilizing for the Order surfaced unbidden: the panicked coordination, the countless losses, the day Harry had fallen. Her chest tightened, but she took a deep breath, reinforcing her occlumency barriers to keep the emotions at bay. Now wasn’t the time.

When they entered the common room, the usual comfort of the green-lit space felt muted. The group slumped into their respective seats, the weight of the day heavy on their shoulders. Lilia noted how quiet Evangeline was, her usual vivaciousness replaced by a somber air.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Lilia asked, her voice soft but tinged with concern.

Evangeline managed a weak chuckle. “Nothing major happened to me, but… it felt like we were on the edge of something horrible. Like death was brushing past us.”

Lilia’s heart sank as she noticed Tom stiffen at the mention of death, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. She offered a small smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. “But we made it back, didn’t we?”

Evangeline nodded hesitantly. “Because you knew a way out. Without you, Salazar knows where we’d be right now.”

Tom took that opportunity to speak, his voice cutting through the gloom. “That’s why we’ve been practicing every day,” he said, his tone as steady and cool as ever. “Our training was meant for situations like this.”

Evangeline gave him a faint smile. “I suppose you’re right.”

Despite Tom’s words, the oppressive weight of what had transpired lingered. The group stayed quiet for a while, each lost in their thoughts until it was time for dinner.

The Great Hall was abuzz with activity as students chattered about the Hogsmeade attack. Lilia instinctively scanned the Ravenclaw table, her eyes seeking out Caspian, Septimus, and Katarina. Relief swept over her when she saw them sitting together, unharmed. For the first time that day, a small piece of her tension eased.

“Attention, everyone!” Headmaster Dippet’s voice boomed through the hall, silencing the crowd. “Today, as many of you know, there was an attack on Hogsmeade. Grindelwald’s men were responsible.”

Gasps rippled across the hall, followed by a chorus of murmurs. Lilia caught Dumbledore’s eye from the staff table, and the two exchanged a brief, knowing nod. She hoped it was enough to convey that she had done what she needed to.

“No one has been killed,” Dippet continued, his tone grave but steady. “There were injuries, but the majority of students are safe. As of now, we do not know Grindelwald’s motive for the attack.”

Lilia’s focus shifted as she felt Tom’s gaze on her. She turned to find his sharp eyes studying her intently. “Does Dumbledore know about your… connection to Grindelwald?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Lilia hesitated before answering. “I told him what happened,” she admitted, keeping her tone neutral.

Tom’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you close with him?”

Before she could answer, Abraxas chimed in, his voice softer than usual. “Are you?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Lilia flushed slightly, clearing her throat. “Not particularly. He helped me when I transferred from France, that’s all.”

Tom leaned back, his expression unreadable, though his mind raced. His research into French wizarding families had revealed an anomaly with the Rousseau name. If the line had died out decades ago, how could Lilia exist? The missing puzzle pieces gnawed at him, but he masked his thoughts with a polite nod.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Later that evening, Tiernan broke the lingering tension with his characteristic charm. “I can’t believe there’s a secret tunnel from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts,” he said, shaking his head. “Why do I feel like this will become my new favorite thing?”

Lilia shot him a playful glare. “Why do I feel like you’ll abuse it?”

“Who, me?” Tiernan smirked, feigning innocence. “I’m the picture of restraint.”

The group laughed softly, the light-hearted moment a welcome reprieve from the day’s events. But Tom remained quiet, his gaze flickering between Lilia and the fireplace. The question of how she knew about the tunnel gnawed at him. Dumbledore didn’t trust easily, and Lilia’s knowledge seemed… convenient.

Was she a spy?  

The thought crossed his mind, but he dismissed it almost immediately. Lilia was too genuine in her sadness, too sincere in her kindness. Still, there was something about her he couldn’t shake, something that didn’t add up. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way her lips pressed together in thought. She was always thinking, always calculating, and it intrigued him far more than he was willing to admit.

Later that night, Tom approached Slughorn’s office, his determination sharpening with every step. When the potions master answered the door, his jovial demeanor was as irritating as ever, especially considering the recent attack.

“Ah, Tom, my boy! What brings you here at this hour?” Slughorn beamed.

“Professor, I was wondering if I could use the potions classroom to practice,” Tom said, his voice smooth and polite. “I came across a fascinating potion in Hogsmeade today and wanted to try my hand at brewing it.”

Slughorn’s eyes lit up. “Of course, of course! Always a diligent student. Just steer clear of anything too… dangerous, eh?” He chuckled, clearly joking, though Tom forced a tight-lipped smile in response. “Of course, Professor,” Tom replied smoothly, his tone betraying no hint of his true intentions.

As he left Slughorn’s office, Tom pulled a long strand of black hair from his pocket. Lilia’s hair. His heart beat faster as he thought about the potion he was about to attempt. It was invasive, a breach of her privacy, but he couldn’t stop himself. Lilia Rousseau was a mystery, and Tom Riddle hated unsolved mysteries.

He clenched the strand of hair tightly, his resolve hardening. Tonight, he would begin unraveling her secrets, one way or another.

Chapter Text

A candlelight flickered against the stone walls of Nurmengard, casting shadows across the dim room. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the scent of burning parchment. The report detailing the Hogsmeade attack lay in tatters on the floor, curling into ash as Gellert Grindelwald flicked his wand lazily over it. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his sharp blue eyes scanning the men kneeling before him.

Failure was not tolerated. And yet, here they were: bloodied, trembling, defeated. "Pathetic," he murmured, the word laced with quiet menace. The lead enforcer, Konrad, dared to look up. “My lo-” A flick of Grindelwald’s wand sent him sprawling to the floor, his breath cut off in an instant. “You speak without permission.”

The others shrank away, barely daring to breathe.

“You assured me they were unprepared,” Grindelwald continued, his voice smooth, almost conversational. “Yet you returned in disgrace, routed by amateurs.” The room remained silent. The only sound was Konrad’s strangled gasps as he clawed at his throat.

Grindelwald finally relented, lowering his wand. The man slumped forward, coughing violently. “Tell me, then. Who stood out?”

One of the surviving men hesitated before responding. “The Rousseau girl.” A flicker of interest passed through Grindelwald’s gaze. “Oh?” “She was relentless,” another soldier added hastily. “Not just in defense, but in attack. There was no hesitation. She wielded dark magic too easily. We underestimated her.”

Grindelwald hummed, considering. “She has potential, then. But also… unpredictability.”

He drummed his fingers against the desk, thoughtful. Lilia Rousseau had refused to yield in their last encounter. That alone made her valuable. Or dangerous. If she could be shaped, she could be an asset. If not… she would be a liability to be eliminated.

“I have seen determination before,” he mused. “I have seen fire in the eyes of those who would change the world. But fire is only useful when it is controlled.” His gaze darkened. “Find out where she stands. If she wavers, if she proves to be nothing more than a reckless girl playing at war, crush her.”

The surviving men bowed their heads. Grindelwald dismissed them with a flick of his hand, but as they left, his thoughts remained on the girl who had forced his hand.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The castle felt different in the wake of the attack. The air carried a heaviness, the once lively corridors now filled with hushed whispers and cautious glances. Extra wards had been layered over the castle, security tightened at every possible point of entry. Professors patrolled more frequently, their gazes sharp and suspicious.

New curfew rules had been put in place. Students were no longer allowed to roam freely past dinner. Any unauthorized presence in the halls after dark was met with severe punishment.

Tom Riddle took it all in with an expression of quiet calculation.

“The professors are on edge,” Evangeline murmured as they walked through the common room, the dim firelight casting long shadows across the stone floor. “I heard Dumbledore personally reinforced the wards himself.” “Good,” Tom replied, his voice as smooth as silk. “It’ll make it that much harder for anyone unworthy to slip through.”

Abraxas scoffed. “Speak for yourself. This lockdown is suffocating. We can’t even leave the castle for private dueling anymore.” “We’ll find another way.” Tom’s tone left no room for doubt. “We can’t afford to become complacent. If this attack proved anything, it’s that we need to be stronger.”

Lilia, seated across from them, was silent. Her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the ring on her finger, her mind elsewhere. She had barely slept since the attack. The memory of Grindelwald’s men, their spells, their intent to kill, kept replaying in her head. But what disturbed her most was not them.

It was how she had felt when she fought them. Something inside her had reveled in it. The rush, the power. The satisfaction of seeing them fall under her spells.

Tom watched her with interest. “Something wrong?” She looked up, shaking her head. “No.”

But he knew better.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Dumbledore’s office smelled of parchment, lemon drops, and faintly of something old that had stood the test of time. Lilia sat before the professor’s desk, her hands curled into the fabric of her robes.

“You fought well,” Dumbledore said finally, breaking the silence. Lilia scoffed, unsettled by that comment. “Is that a compliment?” “An observation,” he corrected gently. “One I find… telling.” Her jaw clenched. “What do you want me to say? That I regret defending myself?” Dumbledore’s gaze was piercing, as if he could see straight through her. “No. But I wonder if you regret enjoying it.”

Lilia’s breath caught. “I-” she began, but no words followed. “I am not here to chastise you,” Dumbledore continued, his tone softer now. “I simply wish for you to remember who you are. You are walking a thin line, Lilia. There is a difference between fighting for survival and losing yourself in the fight.”

Lilia swallowed thickly, looking away. The weight of his words pressed down on her, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to acknowledge them yet.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said at last, though she wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a lie.

Dumbledore nodded, but as she left his office, his expression remained troubled.

Chapter Text

January had just ended, and with February came the anticipation of the next Slug Club dinner set for Valentine’s Day. Lilia knew she needed to find a date; if she didn’t, Slughorn would gleefully assign her one, and she had no intention of being paired with some Ministry official’s son. She had enjoyed herself well enough with Septimus before winter break, but after rejecting his kiss, she didn’t want to risk another awkward repeat.

She sighed as she walked to Transfiguration, where Tom was already seated, his hands folded neatly on the desk, waiting for her. Dumbledore had paired them for an assignment. One that was both frustratingly complex and fittingly ironic. They were to transfigure a golden coin into a living, breathing cat.

Bringing something to life.

How poetic.

Two weeks. That was how long they had to complete the assignment, and so far, despite their combined intellect, they had made no progress.

“Dumbledore said we first need to grasp the concepts of life and death. To understand their weight,” Lilia muttered, flipping through the thick pages of Advanced Transfiguration: Theories of Animate Matter . Tom scoffed. “It’s simple: a life taken can never be given back. What more is there to understand?”

If that were true, then why couldn’t they do it?

It should have been easy, but it wasn’t. The nights they spent in the farthest corners of the library yielded nothing but frustration. The spell required precision, yet no matter how perfectly they followed the instructions, the coin remained a coin.

Lilia skimmed through another passage, resting her chin on her hand. “We’ve mastered the theory. We know the wand movements. We understand the permanence of death. So what are we missing?”

A week had passed, and with each failed attempt, Tom grew increasingly impatient. He wasn’t used to failure. He wasn’t used to a problem he couldn’t immediately solve. It gnawed at him, and Lilia could see it in the way his grip tightened around his quill and the way his jaw tensed when yet another attempt failed.

Then, one day, as they were working on figuring out how to go about this assignment, Tom broke the silence. “Have you ever killed someone?” Lilia’s head snapped up. She stared at him, expecting amusement, provocation, something , but his face was unreadable. He wasn’t asking out of mockery. He was genuinely curious. Her inhibitions were low after spending so many sleepless nights working with him. She should have lied. She could have lied.

But she didn’t. 

“I have,” she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. Tom’s gaze shifted briefly to the ring she always toyed with, his expression unchanging. His ring. “Who?” Lilia exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair. “People who tried to hurt me… or my brother.” The words tasted different when said aloud, like old wounds reopening.

“Do you regret it?” She paused. Her fingers stilled against the ring. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not really. I think they deserved it.” She expected him to accept that. Instead, Tom hummed lightly, tilting his head. “And yet, you hesitated.” She clenched her jaw. “Did they not have families of their own?” He continued, voice even.

Lilia’s stomach twisted. “They never cared that we had families,” she retorted, sharper than she intended. “Yes, but you did know that, didn’t you?” Lilia frowned at him, irritation flaring in her chest. “Never gave it much of a thought.”

The silence between them thickened.

And then, he spoke up softly, “I think you did.” Her pulse stuttered. Tom didn’t break eye contact, watching as her expression flickered between annoyance and discomfort. She was good at pretending things didn’t bother her, but he saw through her.

Lilia inhaled sharply, looking away. He didn’t get to do this. Not him.

“Did you kill anyone?” She threw back at him. He didn’t hesitate. “I have.” She knew that. But still, hearing him admit it so effortlessly sent a chill down her spine. “Do you regret it?” There was a brief pause before he responded, “Yes.” Lilia’s breath caught.

That wasn’t what she expected.

He was still watching her, observing every slight reaction, every muscle twitch. His tone was steady, almost detached, but there was something in the way in which he said it. Secrets buried beneath layers that she had to peel back. “Why?” She asked, quieter this time. Tom leaned back slightly, spinning the golden coin between his fingers. “They were people I should have spent more time with.”

That was definitely not what she expected. “So why kill them?” He flashed a humorless smile. “I let my emotions get the best of me.” 

Lilia swallowed. She didn’t know what was more unsettling: the fact that Tom Riddle was admitting regret, or the fact that he seemed to resent himself for it. “Look at us,” he mused, voice softer now. “Talking about murder like discussing the news over breakfast.” Lilia let out a small, dry laugh. “I don’t want to think about how the people I killed had a family of their own. They never showed the same sympathy towards us.”

Tom was quiet for a long moment. “Grindelwald’s men can be ruthless,” he finally said. “If you only did it for survival, it’s justified.”

Justified . Lilia wanted to believe that. But when she thought of the people she had killed in the war, justified didn’t feel right. Tom reached for his wand. Lilia did the same. She had given up on trying tonight, but for some reason, she flicked her wand at the coin in his hand, barely thinking about it.

The golden coin shuddered. Then, before her eyes, it morphed into a small white cat.

Lilia gasped.

She stared at the creature in shock, hardly daring to believe it. “Tom, I- I did it!” Tom had frozen as well, his sharp eyes locked onto the cat now sitting on the table. “That’s-” he started, but cut himself off. Instead, he transfigured it back to a coin and flicked his own wand.

A sleek black cat appeared.

Lilia squealed, clapping her hands, unable to contain her excitement. “We did it!” In a rush of elation, she jumped up at the same time as him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Tom stiffened for only half a second before his hands came around her waist, holding her in place. They both laughed softly, the tension from before momentarily forgotten.

Then she pulled back. The laughter faded. His hands hadn’t let go. Lilia’s breath hitched when she realized just how close they were. She could see the flecks of brown in his irises, the way his pupils dilated slightly as he looked at her.

His voice was lower, almost hushed. “Be my Valentine, Lilia.” Her heart stuttered. “I-” She tried to think of something, anything , but all she could focus on was how intense his gaze was. How the warmth from his hands seeped through her robes, how he was looking at her like she was something precious. “Okay,” she whispered.

Tom’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. “Good. Be my date for the Slug Club dinner, too.” Lilia exhaled a breathless laugh. “Of course.” His dimple appeared, and she found herself smiling back before she could stop herself.

Something had shifted between them.

And neither of them knew how dangerous it was.

Chapter Text

“Do you think he could have turned out different? If he had been loved?” Lilia asked Hermione, closing the book that she had been reading and looking at the curly-haired brunette next to her. They were both sitting underneath a tree, taking a rare moment of peace outside their safe house. 

Love was the antithesis of hate and, by extension, immortality. Being immortal meant choosing fear of death over the natural course of life. Voldemort had ripped apart his soul because he had no humanity left. He had no remorse for the murders he committed. That was the only way his soul could be saved, and at this point, it was beyond saving.

“He would have,” Hermione sighed, leaning back and resting her head against the rough bark. “Someone who was loved and cared for wouldn’t turn into a monster like that.” “It’s too late for that now,” Lilia said somberly. The war had already consumed them.

Hermione studied her for a moment before saying, “How are your tremors?”

“Oh, they’re manageable- Wait. Hermione, how do you know?” Lilia looked at her curiously. The latter gave a knowing smile and pulled up her sleeve, revealing the jagged scar Bellatrix had left on her forearm.

“I have my scars from that day too. They tortured you longer than they did me. Harry told me you asked him to make a calming draught. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking in a vial every morning?”

Lilia shouldn’t have been surprised. Hermione Granger was sharp. She picked up on cues effortlessly.

“They’re manageable,” Lilia admitted, though her voice was quieter now. “They get worse when there are severely wounded victims or when I see more people dying. So, I have to take more.”

Lilia and Hermione dealt with their demons in similar ways. After Neville’s amputation, Lilia had drowned herself in calming draughts while Hermione had turned to elixirs of euphoria. Ron relied on firewhisky, pouring galleons into a bottle just to feel something else. Harry had secluded himself with Ginny- the only person who could break through his despair when neither Lilia nor Hermione had the strength.

Remus had returned one night to find both girls lying outside in the grass, Lilia humming along to Hermione’s giggles. He sat between them, sighing, and Lilia, in a dazed state, had hiccuped before smiling lazily up at him.

“So you’re letting us get away with our vices now?” She mused. “I would reprimand you,” Remus admitted, “but with a war like this? I think it’s valid. None of you had a normal Hogwarts experience.” “So, we get to choose our demons?” She murmured. “Just promise you’ll come back clear-headed.” He exhaled heavily. “How many did you take?” “Four.” “How many did Hermione take?” “One.”

Remus had only shaken his head, but there was sympathy in his gaze. He pitied them, not just for what they had endured, but for what they still had to face.

Lilia jolted awake, her heart hammering, her breath ragged.

Smoke. She could smell it. Feel the heat licking at her skin. Hogwarts was burning.

She sat up, and the sight before her sent ice down her spine. The castle she had once called home was engulfed in flames. The acrid scent of blood and burning wood filled her nostrils.

Her breath caught when she saw a body sprawled in the dirt.

Harry. Lifeless. “No,” she choked. She tried to move, but she was frozen in place. Then, as if controlled by an unseen force, the bodies around her began to stir. The corpses rose. They moved with unnatural, jerking motions, their decayed flesh peeling from their bones. Their empty eyes locked onto her, and at the front of them all was Harry.

His eyes were white. Blood streamed from his forehead, down his cheeks, and onto the soil below. She wanted to run, to scream, but her body wouldn’t obey.

And then, without moving their mouths, she heard their voices.

Traitor.

Lilia woke up with a sharp gasp, her chest heaving as cold air filled her lungs. Tears streaked down her face, warm against her chilled skin, as the remnants of her nightmare clung to her. She sniffled, pressing her trembling fingers against her eyes, willing the images to fade. The betrayal burned through her like a brand, not just her own, but the one she feared she was committing.

She wiped her face roughly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She was angry. Angry at the world. At fate. At God. At herself .

Because she knew. She always had hope, no matter how foolish it was. And Tom Riddle was one of those hopes. She hated that she placed her faith in him, that she clung to the idea that he could be different. 

She hated that her whole life, she had been expected to be Harry Potter’s sister first. That was all she ever was to the world: a footnote in the legacy of the Boy Who Lived. The sister of the savior. A shadow of someone greater.

And yet, here, she wasn’t Harry Potter’s sister. She wasn’t someone’s second choice. She was Lilia Rousseau. She had a place, a presence, a voice. And she hated, despised  how much she wanted to hold on to it. How much she wanted to hold on to them.

To Tom. To Evangeline. To Celeste. To all of them.

They were supposed to be the monsters of the future. And yet, here they were. Human. Flawed, cruel, brilliant, and achingly real.

She couldn’t kill them.

And that realization left her feeling sick.

She glanced around the dormitory. Evangeline and Celeste were fast asleep, their breathing soft and steady in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows. 2 a.m. The clock on the wall confirmed what she already knew; she wouldn’t be sleeping again tonight. With a heavy sigh, she slipped out of bed, wrapping her arms around herself in search of warmth.

She told herself she was only heading to the common room to read. To clear her mind. To lose herself in a book. But she knew better.

She was hoping he would be there.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The glow of the fireplace painted the darkened common room with a gentle warmth. Lilia hesitated when she saw him.

Tom was sprawled lazily on one of the couches, a cigarette between his lips, his brows furrowed as he pored over a book. His silk pajamas hung loosely on his frame, and his usually pristine curls were tousled and soft, as though he had run a hand through them one too many times. He looked so uncharacteristically casual, so effortlessly at ease, that Lilia almost forgot who he was.

He looked comfortable.

And she liked seeing him like this.

Tom looked up, exhaling a slow trail of smoke before plucking the cigarette from his lips. A sleepy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Hey.” Her heart stuttered at the unexpected softness in his tone. “Hey,” she greeted, settling onto the opposite end of the couch, pulling her knees up. “Nightmare?” He asked, closing his book. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Don’t let me stop you from reading. I just… I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Tom didn’t move, but she could feel his attention shift to her. “Do you want to talk about it?” She chewed her lower lip, torn between the impulse to keep everything buried and the rare comfort of his presence. Tom Riddle was the last person she should trust. She knew that. And yet, he was the only one here.

She sighed. “I dreamed about my brother. And my friends.” His eyes flickered to the ring on her finger, his ring, which she idly twisted between her fingers. She never really took it off, just like her necklace and bracelet. “They… my brother died. Just like some of my friends. And people I cared about.” Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to continue. She didn’t want sympathy. She just wanted to say it out loud.

“What about your parents?” Tom asked, his voice lower now, almost careful. “They died when I was a baby. My aunt and uncle raised Harry and me. They hated my parents… so they hated us too.” Tom’s expression darkened. “Did they hurt you?” Lilia let out a bitter laugh. “I mean… isn’t that to be expected?”

Tom’s jaw tensed. He knew cruelty. The orphanage had been nothing but a series of harsh hands and cold discipline, but Lilia wasn’t like him. She was soft, compassionate. She deserved better. “They had no right,” Tom said, his voice like steel.

Lilia swallowed hard. “I know they didn’t. But Harry and I were always together. We never had to be alone.” Her voice wavered, lower now, almost like a confession. “Until the war. Until… Harry was killed.” Her breath hitched as she tried to blink back the burning in her eyes. “It should have been me, not him.”

Tom’s frown deepened. “Why would you say something like that?” She exhaled shakily. “Because I could never do enough to help him.” “That’s not true.” His words came quickly, too certain, too absolute, and for a moment, she almost believed him.

Then, without thinking, he shifted closer.

Lilia barely registered the warmth of his thigh pressing against hers before he reached out, brushing her hair away. A single tear had escaped, trailing down her cheek, and before she could wipe it away, his thumb beat her to it.

Her breath hitched. “Look at me.” Her eyes lifted, locking onto his. Deep brown, but under the firelight, speckled with amber. And for the first time, she realized just how intense his gaze was, like he could burn through her without a thought.

“You’re here for a reason,” he said softly. “You deserve to be here.” Something lodged itself in her throat. He was too close. Close enough that his breath was warm against her skin, close enough that she could see the way his lashes fanned over his sharp cheekbones.

Tom’s gaze flickered downward, and her stomach clenched when she realized what he was looking at. Her scars. They peeked from the square neckline of her nightgown, pale lines against her skin, each one a reminder of what she had survived. “Can I touch them?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the question sent a shiver down her spine.

She nodded, almost too stunned to breathe.

His touch was featherlight, tracing the delicate ridges of the deepest scar. He was silent, but she could see the way his lips pressed together, his brows furrowing slightly. “Your scars,” he murmured, “prove that you survived.” “They make my body look ugly,” she whispered. “No.” His thumb brushed slowly across her skin. “They make you alive.” He hesitated, then added, softer, “I would never have met you otherwise.”

Her stomach twisted. “Would that have been bad?” He exhaled, gaze flickering back up to meet hers. “I don’t know if it would be bad. But I think… something would have been missing.”

She stopped breathing. Because Tom Riddle didn’t say things like that. He didn’t admit to feeling like this. Not always. And yet, here he was, saying it to her.

Her eyes dropped to his lips, plush and dangerously close.

She leaned in.

So did he.

His hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face up just slightly, his breath mingling with hers. She could taste the faint trace of cigarette smoke and mint, a combination that had become uniquely his.

She wanted him to kiss her.

“Tom?”

They jolted apart, as though burned. Abraxas stood at the entrance, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Oh. Hi, Lilia.”

Heat flooded her face.

Tom clenched his jaw. “Why are you here, Abraxas?”

Lilia didn’t wait for an answer. She practically ran out of the common room, cheeks burning, heart hammering, and Tom Riddle’s lips still haunting her every thought.

Chapter Text

“Excellent job!” Dumbledore exclaimed as he watched Lilia and Tom transfigure the golden coin into a cat each.

The professor noted the way Tom smiled at Lilia, so uncharacteristically boyish that his resolve wavered for a split second. He had not expected Riddle to accomplish such a complex form of transfiguration. It required a profound understanding of the essence of life and death, something he had assumed the boy who once killed animals at the orphanage would struggle to grasp. Yet here he was, succeeding.

Albus’ gaze flickered toward Lilia, who beamed with pride at Tom, as if she had known he was capable all along. Was she trying to change him? Was that why she had been sent back? The thought unsettled him.

He turned away to observe the rest of the class, but the unease lingered.

“Left him speechless,” Tom snickered under his breath, watching Dumbledore move on to another group. “Oh, you’re so smug,” Lilia muttered, shaking her head but unable to suppress her own satisfaction at their success. She turned her focus back to her textbook, using it as a shield.

The memory of their almost-kiss burned at the edges of her mind. She had been avoiding him since that night, and she knew it. Because she had wanted to kiss him. Badly. And that terrified her. It was reckless, dangerous. This was Tom Riddle . The same person who had ruined her life in another future. Her logical mind told her to keep her distance, to remember who he was destined to become. But another part, the part that saw his quiet moments, his flashes of vulnerability, wanted to believe he could be more .

“So, Lilia. Care to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?” Tom’s voice was casual, but there was an edge to it. Lilia tensed. She had hoped he wouldn’t bring it up, that he would be too distracted by his own ambitions to notice. But of course, Tom Riddle noticed everything.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” she said, clearing her throat but keeping her gaze fixed on the pages of her book. “Well, you’re not looking at me now.” She sighed and finally met his gaze, regretting it immediately. He looked effortlessly composed, handsome in his uniform, his dark curls framing his sharp features perfectly.

Damn it, why did she look?

“What difference does that make?” She mumbled. “You literally turned the other way when I called you in Potions on Tuesday.” “That’s because I forgot something.” “Right. And you’ve been having all your meals with those Ravenclaws.” “They’re my friends too.” “It’s convenient that this all coincides with Monday night.”

She swallowed, heat creeping up her neck. “I think it’s just a coincidence.” Tom studied her with an unreadable expression. “Do you regret it?” “No!” The word left her lips too quickly, and his smirk deepened. “My, my, Rousseau. I didn’t realize you wanted to kiss me so much.” “Oh, don’t be so full of yourself, Riddle,” she scoffed. “It was just curiosity.”

His dark eyes gleamed with amusement, but instead of pressing further, he turned back to his book. Lilia exhaled in relief, but her heart still pounded. Tom shifted his attention back to his textbook, but his thoughts remained on Lilia.

He kept replaying the moment in the common room when he had seen her scars. The one he had touched had been deep, vicious, eerily similar to his own. A reminder of the night she had almost killed him.

The mystery of Lilia Rousseau was unraveling slowly, but there were still too many missing pieces.

He had begun brewing the Genus potion on Tuesday, and it would be ready on Valentine’s Day. It was a dangerous invasion of her privacy, and part of him almost felt guilty. Almost. But her birthdate missing from Hogwarts’ records was no coincidence.

He needed to know.

He told himself it was strategic, necessary to understand her better. Yet, a whisper in the back of his mind suggested otherwise. Lilia wasn’t like anyone else.

He had known that since the moment she walked in his life (and almost killed him). Since she had shown him kindness without needing anything in return. Since she had touched him in ways no one else ever had, both physically and emotionally.

And now, she had been avoiding him. A flicker of annoyance sparked in his chest. He didn’t like being ignored. More than that, he didn’t like the uncertainty she made him feel. His grip tightened around his quill. He had always thought himself above petty emotions like jealousy. But watching her drift toward her Ravenclaw friends had irked him. More than it should have.

Tom shook his head. It was irrelevant. He had bigger concerns. Like Grindelwald. The fact that a wizard as powerful as Grindelwald was so fixated on Lilia disturbed him. Why was she so important? And why did she seem prepared for it?

The attack in Hogsmeade had made one thing clear: she was far more skilled than she let on. Her patronus alone had been proof. He had yet to summon one himself, but she had done it effortlessly. As if she had done it before .

That unsettled him.

Was she his equal? Or was she something more ? And if she was something more… was she dangerous ?

The moment class ended, Tom asked Lilia to have lunch with him. And despite her better judgment, she agreed. As they approached the Slytherin table, Evangeline’s devilish smirk was the first thing Lilia saw.

“So… Tom,” she drawled, barely giving them time to sit. “Lilia told us you asked her to be your Valentine.” Lilia immediately grabbed her water, trying to appear unaffected.

Across from them, Abraxas forced a smile, though his stomach twisted painfully.

He looked at Lilia, then at Tom, his best friend, the boy he had admired, envied, and something inside him cracked. His fork remained poised over his plate, untouched.

Lilia was blushing, flustered under Tom’s gaze, and Tom was watching her in a way Abraxas had never seen before. A look that wasn’t just intrigue or calculation, but softer. It made his blood run cold.

“Wait, really?” He managed to ask, though his voice was strained. Tom nodded. “Of course I did.” His words were casual, but Abraxas could hear the underlying certainty, the finality of it.

“Tom, you’ve never asked someone to be your date,” Evangeline pressed, either oblivious to the shift in atmosphere or enjoying it. “I’ve had dates before,” Tom pointed out. “Yes, but you never asked anyone,” she countered. “You rejected every girl who confessed to you. Earned yourself a reputation, you know.”

Abraxas already knew that. Of course he did. He had watched every girl be turned away, one after another, with cool indifference. He had relied on that certainty, that Tom Riddle wasn't interested in anyone.

And now, Tom had asked Lilia. A dull, sick feeling churned in his gut.

Lilia tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “What reputation?” Evangeline smirked. “Tom’s the ultimate heartbreaker, Lils. So many girls confessed to him, and he rejected all of them. But Valentine’s? That’s the real spectacle. He gets dozens of gifts and love letters, and do you know what he does?”

Lilia shook her head.

“He ignores them.” Lilia turned to Tom, eyebrows raised. “That’s cold.” Tom merely shrugged. “I had no interest.” Abraxas’ grip tightened around his fork. And yet, now he did. Evangeline’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

“And yet, now, he’s asked you . He’s practically your man.” Lilia’s cheeks flamed, and she shot a glare at Tom, who was watching her with those dark eyes. “He’s not my man,” she muttered. Tom chuckled softly, but didn’t deny it.

The sound felt like nails scraping against Abraxas’ skin. He didn’t deny it. He always denied things like this. He dismissed, deflected, ignored. But this time, he hadn’t. Abraxas stared at his plate, appetite gone. His fingers curled into fists beneath the table, nails pressing into his palm.

He forced himself to speak, though his voice felt distant, not his own. “Lilia, are you prepared for that?” His tone was carefully neutral. Lilia blinked. “For what?” “For the attention.” He managed a dry smirk, though it felt like a mask. “You realize half the girls in school will probably hate you now?”

Evangeline snorted. “Oh, they’re already whispering, trust me.” Lilia laughed, light and easy. “I’ll survive.” Tom’s lips twitched in amusement. “Of course you will.” Something about the way he said it, the quiet certainty in his voice, made Abraxas’ stomach tighten.

Tom wanted Lilia.

The realization settled in like a stone in his gut.

Abraxas was an outsider.

He always had been.

He just hadn’t noticed it until now.

Chapter Text

The night before the Slug Club dinner, Lilia returned to her room to find a gift box resting on her bed, a letter attached to it.

Wear this to the dinner tomorrow. TR

Tom could have skipped his initials. She would recognize his handwriting anywhere. The sharp, elegant curves of his script mirrored the precision with which he carried himself. He was meticulous, controlled, and it reflected in everything he did. Lilia often found herself admiring that about him. Tom Riddle was always at the top of his studies, disciplined in his prefect duties, unfailingly polite, charming when it suited him, and he towered over her, always making her feel small yet inexplicably safe. 

And then there were his eyes, dark and unfathomable, yet sometimes, they softened in a way that made her feel like she was seeing something no one else ever had.

She couldn’t help the warmth that stirred inside her.

With hesitant fingers, she untied the ribbon around the box and lifted the lid. Inside, neatly folded, was a striking red dress. She sucked in a breath as she pulled it out, letting the silky material spill over her hands. It was long, flowing, with delicate off-the-shoulder sleeves and a corseted bodice that tapered at the waist before flaring slightly. 

Expensive. Exquisite. How did he even get her measurements?

She swallowed, brushing her fingers over the fabric as conflicting emotions warred inside her.

“Your scars prove that you survived. They make you alive.”

Tom had said that to her before, his voice so assured, so firm, as though daring her to believe it. The words had burrowed into her like a quiet revelation.

She had never seen Remus’ scars as ugly. They had been mysterious, a map of his survival, and yet he had always spoken about them with such quiet shame. Lilia had seen so much of herself in him, in the way he struggled to love himself after everything. And she knew that struggle all too well. There had been too many moments, too many memories that had made her question her worth.

She didn’t want Tom to see her scars and think she was damaged. She didn’t want him to find her ugly.

“Merlin! Lilia, that’s such a pretty dress!”

Celeste’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. Lilia turned to find her roommate beaming as she eyed the dress with open admiration. “Tom chose it. For the dinner tomorrow,” Lilia murmured, suddenly shy. Celeste smirked knowingly. “Of course, he did.”

Lilia bit her lip, looking down at the dress. The weight of the moment settled over her, twisting something deep in her chest. She had never truly allowed herself to acknowledge what it felt like to be wanted by Tom Riddle. Not as a friend. Not as an ally. But as something more.

And yet, Celeste felt a dull ache in her chest that she had spent years trying to bury. Because for all the times she had been Tom’s date to Slug Club dinners, he had never done anything like this for her.

It had always been a simple arrangement, nothing more. A partnership of sorts. But now? Now, she watched the way he looked at Lilia. She noticed how his gaze softened, how his eyes followed her in ways they never had with anyone else.

Celeste let out a small sigh, something wistful lingering in her tone. “Well, I guess now we’ll know what it’s like to have Tom Riddle really care about you.”

And strangely enough, Lilia wasn’t even sure what to do with that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Valentine’s Day began in the most uninspiring way possible: with classes. The only highlight was the greenhouse, which had been transformed into a romantic display of roses, tulips, lilies, and other flowers in varying shades of white, pink, and red. The scent of fresh blooms clung to the air, making the atmosphere feel softer, almost dreamlike.

Lilia didn’t see Tom all day. Their schedules never overlapped on Fridays. And perhaps that was for the best, because every time she thought about the dress he had chosen for her, her stomach twisted into tight knots. The idea of wearing something he had picked, of knowing he had spent time thinking about how she would look in it, left her feeling unnervingly vulnerable.

As soon as her last class ended, she rushed back to her dorm to start getting ready. Three hours seemed like a long time, but she knew better. Getting ready with her roommates always involved more talking than actual preparation, followed by a last-minute panic when they realized they were running late.

Lilia bathed quickly, scrubbing herself down as if that would wash away the nerves prickling under her skin. Then, with practiced hands, she concealed the scars that would be visible in her dress. She didn’t mind them, not really. But tonight, she didn’t want them to be a distraction.

Slipping into the dress, she struggled with the corset laces, gritting her teeth as she tugged at the strings. Of course, it was impossible to do alone. With a sigh, she stepped out of the bathroom and turned her back to Evangeline.

“Help me?” She asked, trying not to sound too flustered. Evangeline grinned knowingly but said nothing as she tightened the laces, pulling them snug against Lilia’s waist. When she turned back around, Celeste let out an audible gasp. “Lilia, you look so beautiful!”

Lilia turned to the mirror, and for once, she agreed. The bold red contrasted perfectly with her complexion, and the way the corset hugged her frame made her feel… elegant. Desirable. She hadn’t expected to feel that.

The slit on the right side of the dress ran all the way up to her thigh, revealing just enough skin to be suggestive without being too much. The neckline was even more scandalous. The corset pushed her breasts up in a way that was impossible to ignore. Tom was going to have a hard time keeping his composure. She bit back a smirk. Her old friends would have definitely encouraged her to take full advantage of that fact.

The next hour was spent debating hair and makeup choices. Lilia insisted on wearing her hair down, it made her feel the most like herself. It was also a shield, something to hide behind when she felt exposed. Celeste, of course, didn’t approve. “You need to show off your neckline,” she insisted. “Guys love that.”

Lilia’s cheeks flushed at the reminder, but in the end, Celeste compromised by braiding small sections of her hair and tying them with tiny red ribbons.

Her makeup was simple: just enough to enhance her features, to make her eyes stand out and her lips appear fuller. She added a pair of dangling golden earrings, then took a step back to take in the final look.

Tom’s ring glinted on her finger. The dress was his choice.

She swallowed.

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered, " You’re betraying the people you loved." But it was easy to ignore.

When Lilia entered the common room with Celeste and Evangeline trailing behind her, nerves coiled tightly in her stomach. But all of it vanished the moment her gaze landed on him .

Tom stood near the fireplace, wearing a black three-piece suit that fit him far too well. A red rose peeked from his pocket, the only splash of color against his otherwise dark attire. His presence was magnetic, commanding, effortless.

And then he turned. The moment his eyes landed on her, the world around them seemed to fade.

Lilia felt her breath hitch as his gaze roamed over her, slow and deliberate. She could see the way his posture stiffened slightly, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as if he had to force himself to stay composed.

His eyes lingered on the slit of her dress, traveling over the smooth skin of her exposed leg before moving up, up , past her waist, past the curve of her corset that pushed her breasts together just enough to be maddening.

And then, finally, his eyes met hers.

Tom exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. But Lilia saw it: the way his fingers twitched, the way his lips parted slightly before he pressed them together again. For the first time since she had known him, Tom Riddle looked unsettled. And that made her feel powerful.

She dropped her gaze to the floor, a timid smile playing on her lips as she finally closed the space between them. “You look gorgeous,” Tom murmured, his voice low enough for only her to hear. Lilia forced herself to look up at him. “The dress is lovely.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I knew it would look good on you.” His voice softened, and something dangerously close to adoration flickered in his expression. “You never disappoint. You are stunning.” Lilia swallowed, willing herself to keep her composure. “You look very handsome too.” Her fingers itched to touch his face, to trace the sharp angles of his cheekbones, but she resisted.

“I need a bucket,” Icarus groaned dramatically from behind them. “This is sickening.” “Let them be!” Celeste playfully smacked his arm. Lilia tore her gaze from Tom, suddenly aware of their audience. Evangeline and Abraxas stood off to the side, neither of them speaking.

Icarus, at least, seemed amused by the whole ordeal. And honestly? He was glad to see Tom acting like this. Lilia had changed something in him. Tom was still reserved, still strategic, but he wasn’t as closed off. Lilia had a way of drawing people in, making them trust her, and that included Tom himself.

Abraxas knew it too.

And that realization stung.

Was it easier for Tom to let Lilia in because she was an outsider? Someone who didn’t come from the same prejudiced circles, who didn’t see him as either an untouchable ideal or a terrifying enigma? Abraxas clenched his jaw as he watched them together. Lilia was a head shorter despite wearing heels, yet somehow, next to Tom, she fit. It was wrong. He hated it.

Tom had spent nights working on transfiguring that dress. He had kept himself busy with it instead of reading in the common room, instead of sneaking out for a late-night smoke. Tom Riddle, the boy who had never shown interest in anyone, had asked Lilia to be his date.

And that realization settled like a heavy weight in Abraxas’ chest.

“This is for you,” Tom said suddenly, pulling the single red rose from his pocket and handing it to Lilia. She stared at it for a moment before taking it, a beaming smile breaking across her face.

Icarus and Evangeline immediately took that as an opportunity. “Damn it, Riddle,” Evangeline teased. “Didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

Tom shot her a glare. “Shut it, Selwyn.”

“Tom Riddle in love,” Icarus sighed theatrically. “Who would have thought?”

“Lestrange, I swear-”

“Celeste, my love, this is our cue to leave!” Icarus declared, grabbing her hand and making a dramatic exit before Tom could murder him.

Once again, Tom and Lilia trailed behind the others, falling into step with one another as the rest of their friends walked ahead. The low hum of their chatter filled the space, but for Tom, it all faded into the background. His focus remained on the girl beside him.

Lilia twirled the rose between her fingers before glancing up at him with a teasing smirk. “Thank you for the rose,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “I didn’t know you were a romantic at heart, Tom.”

“Rousseau.” His tone was flat, but the sharp glare he gave her was half-hearted at best. “Romantic Riddle,” she giggled, watching for a reaction. “Can you stop being so childish?” He muttered. “You’re enjoying this as much as I am. Admit it.” He wouldn’t. Of course, he wouldn’t. But the way his lips quirked upward betrayed him.

Lilia hummed, pleased with herself, and with a quick flick of her hand, she removed the stem from the rose before tucking it behind her left ear. She turned to him, tilting her head slightly. “How does this look?”

Tom’s steps faltered. He stared, his usually guarded expression slipping into something she could not point out. For a second, Lilia thought she saw something like wonder flash across his face. She faltered, shifting slightly under his gaze. “Never mind-” She started, reaching up to remove the flower, but before she could, Tom’s hand shot out.

“Let me.” His fingers brushed against her temple, barely a whisper of contact, but Lilia swore she felt it down to her bones. She held her breath as he adjusted the rose, securing it in place with a silent charm. Then, quietly, as if the words weren’t meant to be spoken aloud, he murmured, “Beautiful.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

He had said it before, in passing, but there was something different this time. It was softer. For the first time that evening, Lilia felt the teasing smile slip from her lips. She didn’t argue. Didn’t joke. Didn’t try to deflect.

She only nodded, accepting his words as truth. And as they resumed their walk toward Slughorn’s dinner, Tom found himself glancing at her again.

The rose suited her.

It was perfect .

Just like her.

When they arrived at the venue, Lilia was momentarily taken aback. The room was transformed into a vision of elegance and indulgence. Candles floated in the air, casting a golden glow that reflected off the crimson and white drapes covering the tables. Heart-shaped balloons hung gracefully from the ceiling, and the scent of roses, candy, and warm champagne filled the air. Every table was adorned with a spread of plates stacked high with vegetables, meats, cheeses, fresh fruits, and chocolates. The dance floor was dusted with rose petals, their deep red contrasting beautifully against the polished wood beneath.

“The Slug outdid himself this time,” Icarus remarked, his tone light with amusement as he scanned the extravagant decorations.

Lilia hummed in agreement, though her gaze soon drifted to the crowd. Her eyes landed on Septimus, who stood near the back of the room with Penelope. The sight made her pause. The redhead and blonde looked good together. Really good.

Lilia’s stomach twisted with an uncomfortable pang, one that had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with guilt. She knew what her friends had done to Penelope, knew the pain they had caused, and yet, here she was, standing among them, wearing a dress handpicked by Tom Riddle himself. Penelope’s own dress was elegant yet modest, the fabric draping over her back in a way that made it clear she was covering something. Lilia didn’t need to ask what. She knew . Because she had done the same thing before.

A heavy silence settled in her chest before Tom’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Should we get something to eat?” Lilia nodded, more eager to leave than she was to continue dwelling on things she couldn’t change.

The group naturally split off into pairs, and Lilia found herself glad for it. She didn’t want to sit through Evangeline wistfully talking about Dimitri Dolohov. The name alone left a bitter taste in her mouth. She turned away from the others, only to feel Tom’s hand settle firmly on her waist.

She tensed for just a moment, her breath catching as his touch grounded her. It wasn’t just there. It was deliberate. Possessive. And she realized why a second later. A group of boys standing nearby had been staring. The moment Tom’s hand found her waist, their eyes flickered away, some exchanging brief looks before begrudgingly turning back to their conversations.

Lilia barely had a second to process that before she felt another set of eyes on her. This time, they were female. Her gaze swept across the room, landing on a group of girls whose attention was very clearly on Tom. The way they looked at him made irritation prickle at the back of her mind. A few were whispering amongst themselves, eyes flitting toward him as if waiting, hoping he would glance their way.

He never did. But that didn’t stop the strange possessiveness in Lilia’s chest from flaring. She turned toward him abruptly, eyes narrowing. Tom blinked, taken aback by her sudden shift in mood. “What?”

Lilia’s voice was flat. “How many gifts and confessions did you get today?”

Tom’s lips curled into a smirk. “None of them matter, Lilia.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Then why ask?”

Lilia clenched her jaw. “Just answer my question.”

Tom watched her for a moment, obviously amused. Then, smoothly, he asked, “Why? Are you jealous?”

She scoffed. “Why would I be jealous?”

“You tell me.”

Her glare sharpened. “Why can’t you just give me a clear answer?”

“I don’t see why I should if you’re not jealous.”

“You are so annoying.”

Tom chuckled. “This is my first time hearing that.”

“Well, get used to it.”

Lilia turned away, muttering under her breath as she grabbed a plate and began piling it with food, but she could feel his eyes on her. He was enjoying this. He hadn’t bothered to ask her the question in return, not because he didn’t care, but because he already knew she hadn’t received anything.

He had made sure of it.

Lilia’s frustration melted away the moment she took a bite of the food, savoring the explosion of flavors on her tongue. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now. Quickly, she began filling her plate, adding a bit of everything. Tom watched her with an amused expression, his lips quirking slightly as she continued to pile food onto her plate without a second thought. “Will you even be able to finish all of that?” He asked, arching a brow. “Hopefully,” she murmured, completely unfazed.

For Lilia, good food was still a luxury, even after months of being here. It was something she had learned to appreciate in a way that others didn’t. Months of war, of hunger, of scraping by had made her hyperaware of the simple joys of a well-prepared meal. It didn’t matter that she was at a lavish dinner in the forties, her instincts remained unchanged.

Tom, however, had barely taken anything. Lilia frowned. “Why do you eat so little?”

“I’m not too hungry.”

She didn’t believe him. Without hesitation, she reached over and added more food onto his plate: roasted potatoes, a slice of bread, extra fruit. “You barely eat. Have some more.”

Tom was about to protest, but something about the gesture stopped him. It was instinctive for her, effortless. And for some reason, it made his chest tighten. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to people caring about him. His friends did, in their own way. But it was different. With them, their affection was always tied to something strategic, something necessary. A mutual give-and-take.

Lilia, however, had no reason to care for him. And yet, she still did. He found himself eating without complaint. 

They moved through the crowd, Tom’s hand settling naturally on her waist once again, steering her toward an empty table. The action sent a ripple of heat up Lilia’s spine, but she forced herself to focus. “Shoot,” she said suddenly. “Tom, we didn’t get drinks.” She turned slightly, intending to walk back, but before she could, Tom’s grip on her waist tightened.

She gasped softly, stopping in her tracks. “Let’s get you seated first,” he murmured, his voice low.

“But-”

“Sit down first, Lilia.” Something in his tone made her comply, though she wasn’t sure why. It was firm yet smooth, not a demand, but something that left no room for argument. Voldemort would have loved to see her like this. The thought made her stomach twist. She sank into her chair, watching as Tom turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

For a moment, she was left alone with her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Tom walked toward the drinks, forcing his hands into his pockets to keep himself grounded. His thoughts had spiraled the moment he realised how instinctive it had been for her to care for him.

He had already known, had pieced together the fragments of her nightmares, the wounds she tried to hide, the way she carried herself like someone who had survived a lifetime of battles. But knowing was different from understanding.

And now, he understood.

She had suffered. Deeply.

And the idea of her being at the mercy of Grindelwald made something cold and furious twist inside of him. She didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t realized his grip had tightened until he reached the drink table and picked up two glasses of champagne, his knuckles white against the glass.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t thinking about his plans or his goals. For once, he wasn’t even thinking about the genus Potion. His focus was solely on her. He exhaled sharply before turning back and making his way toward their table.

Lilia beamed when he returned, her eyes lighting up as she accepted the glass. “Gosh, I’m starving.” Tom watched as she immediately took a bite of food, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “You are so impatient,” he noted, shaking his head, though a small fond smile tugged at his lips. They ate and drank in mostly comfortable silence, exchanging bits of conversation between bites. It wasn’t awkward; it was easy. Natural. Neither of them felt the need to fill every moment with words.

Across the room, two pairs of eyes lingered on them. Septimus and Abraxas sat with their respective dates, but their attention was elsewhere. Abraxas didn’t move, his fingers idly twirling the stem of his glass as his gaze flickered between Lilia and Tom. It was subtle, but he saw it- the way Tom’s attention was only on Lilia. Septimus wasn’t much different.

Neither boy spoke. Neither boy acknowledged the quiet ache that settled deep in their chests. And neither of their dates noticed their furtive glances toward the dark-haired pair sitting in perfect harmony across the room.

“Let’s dance!” Lilia exclaimed, clapping her hands once in anticipation. Tom arched a brow at her enthusiasm, but the smirk playing at his lips betrayed his amusement. “Aren’t you an eager little thing?” She rolled her eyes but took his offered hand. “I like dancing,” she chuckled, letting him lead her toward the dance floor.

A classical melody drifted through the air, soft and graceful, but her mind wandered elsewhere. If she had her way, they’d be dancing to Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden, something slower, achingly tender. Something that didn’t belong to this time, just like her. She almost smiled at the thought, at how absurdly beautiful it would be to sway with Tom Riddle to a song he’d never even know existed.

She shuddered slightly as his hand found her waist, his touch firm. Her own hand settled on his shoulder, feeling the muscle beneath his suit, the strength hidden behind his polished demeanor. He was tall. Too tall. It was unfair. She felt dwarfed in his presence, completely aware of every inch between them.

She tilted her head up only to find his dark eyes already fixed on her. Heat crept up her neck. “What are you looking at?” She asked softly, teasing. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the way he was watching her. So intently, so entirely.

“You,” he said simply, smirking as they moved in sync.

Lilia’s breath caught. Merlin, help her. “Why?”

“Can’t I look at you now?”

“You can, it’s just that…”

“You’re shy,” he murmured, amusement laced in his tone.

“No, I’m not!” She huffed, glaring up at him, but the pink on her cheeks gave her away. He chuckled, clearly unconvinced. “You are so endearing, Lilia.” 

Her heart skipped a beat. She swallowed. “So you like me?”

“Why else would I ask you to be my date?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Evangeline did mention that you’ve had several dates before me.”

Tom’s gaze didn’t waver. “None of them mattered like you do.”

Lilia’s breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with a dry laugh. “You’re just saying that.”

“What makes you special, Rousseau?” His voice was silk and steel, his grip on her waist just a fraction tighter. “We’ve only known each other for a few months.”

“Exactly,” she murmured, unsure of where this was going.

“And yet,” he continued, his voice lowering, “we’re comfortable with each other.”

She shook her head. “No-”

“You cry in front of me. And I tell you things I’ve never told anyone else.” His words were slow, deliberate. “Don’t lie to yourself.”

She hated when he used that tone. That knowing, assured tone that cornered her into confronting feelings she wasn’t ready to address.

But he wasn’t wrong.

Her confession to Theo had been as much of a goodbye as it had been an admission of love. She had known, deep down, that they would never be together after the war. Not after everything they had lost.

But Tom? Tom was nothing like Theo.

Theo had been gentle, warm, a light in the midst of darkness. Tom was shadows and moonlight, sharp edges and unreadable depths. Theo would have never understood the person she had become. But Tom saw her wounds, her grief, her quiet destruction, and he wasn’t deterred.

It should have terrified her. Instead, it made her heart race.

“I’m not the person you think I am,” she whispered, looking up at him, her eyes filled with unsaid truths. Tom’s lips parted slightly, processing her words briefly. Then, without warning, he spun her in a graceful twirl before pulling her flush against him. She gasped softly as her body collided with his, her chest pressing into his own. The warmth of him, the sheer solidness of him, sent a shiver through her. His lips ghosted near her ear, his voice a quiet murmur. “You are just the person I think you are.” Lilia swallowed thickly, her fingers tightening slightly on his shoulder.

There were things she should have said. A distance she should have maintained. But in that moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

After a few more minutes of dancing, Tom leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting against Lilia’s cheek as he whispered, “I need to take care of something. Don’t drink too much while I’m gone.” Lilia smirked up at him, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Worried I’ll start spilling my darkest secrets?”

“Something like that.” His fingers brushed against her waist one last time before he let go, stepping away. She watched him go with a curious tilt of her head, reaching out for her champagne as she turned back toward the crowd.

Tom, however, moved swiftly through the corridors, his pace quickening the closer he got to the potions classroom. His mind buzzed with anticipation. The potion would be ready now. He had calculated everything meticulously. By tonight, he would finally have answers.

Except when he pushed open the door, the sight before him made his entire body go rigid.

The cauldron had been overturned, a thick, shimmering potion seeping into the cracks of the stone floor. The scent of ruined ingredients clung to the air like a cruel taunt. And sitting right where the potion had been, was Celeste, legs dangling over the edge of the desk, hair tangled from the clear evidence of whatever had transpired.

Standing between her parted legs, looking just as disheveled, was Icarus.

For a long, tense second, no one moved.

Tom felt a sharp flicker of irritation pulse beneath his skin. Not just because his potion, his carefully planned, painstakingly brewed g enus Potion , was now wasted. But because he had let himself be distracted. By her. By the way her lips had parted when he called her endearing. By the warmth of her hand in his. By the fact that, for the first time in his life, seeking power had not been his priority.

A lesser man might have exploded in fury. But Tom simply exhaled, slow and measured, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered, “Salazar.”

Celeste and Icarus gawked at him, looking as if they weren’t sure whether they were about to be hexed, murdered, or both.

Tom straightened, expression unreadable. He should have been furious. He was furious. But somewhere beneath all that irritation, a strange sort of relief settled in his chest. Because now… now he would have no choice but to let the answers remain unknown. And for a reason he could not quite bring himself to examine, he was not as devastated by that as he should have been.

His grip on control had slipped tonight. He had let it slip. And when it came to Lilia Rousseau, Tom Riddle was beginning to suspect he would let it slip again. “Get out.” His voice was quiet, but the command in it was undeniable.

Celeste and Icarus scrambled, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to leave. Tom stared down at the ruined potion for another long moment before turning on his heel and making his way back to the dinner, where she was waiting.

And for once, the need for answers did not consume him.

Chapter Text

"Tom, where are we going?" Lilia asked, trailing behind the taller boy as they made their way out of the castle. It was raining, a steady drizzle pattering against the stone pathways, and she shivered slightly, regretting not bringing a coat. 

"It’s a surprise." Tom’s voice was vague, his tone unreadable, and she frowned but continued walking beside him.

They had left the dinner shortly after he returned, bidding Slughorn goodbye. Lilia still hadn’t recovered from the cheeky grin the professor had given them as they departed hand in hand, as if he knew something she didn’t. The thought made warmth creep up her neck, but she pushed it away.

A sudden ripple of magic passed over her, and she gasped softly when she realized that the rain wasn’t touching her anymore. The droplets bounced off an invisible barrier above them, shimmering slightly before disappearing.

"You can do wandless magic," she noted, watching him from the corner of her eye. "So can you," he replied smoothly. She pressed her lips together but didn’t argue. The difference was that she had learned wandless magic out of necessity, out of sheer will to survive. Tom had learned it simply because he wanted to.

Despite herself, she was impressed.

Tom, however, was not thinking about wandless magic. He was still slightly irked about not being able to check his potion before leaving, thanks to Icarus and Celeste, who had somehow chosen the potions classroom of all places to sneak off to. But what unsettled him more was the realization that he wasn’t actually that mad about it.

He should have been. Yet, standing here now, with Lilia at his side, leading her to something he had planned just for her, he felt a strange sense of relief. He didn’t want to question it. Not yet. 

Tonight, all he wanted was to make her happy.

When they reached the greenhouse, Lilia blinked in surprise. "Why are we here?" Tom said nothing as he approached the door. With a flick of his wrist, the lock clicked open, and the heavy door swung inward. Her eyes widened. "How did you- There are protective wards. Students aren’t supposed to be able to-" "I am on good terms with Professor Beery." Lilia’s brows furrowed. "You don’t even take Herbology." "I did until fifth year. That was enough." His lips twitched slightly. "Now, come in."

Hesitant but curious, she stepped inside. The moment she did, her breath hitched.

Warm golden light flickered in the darkness, moving in slow, mesmerizing patterns. She tilted her head back, eyes widening in amazement. 

Fireflies.

Hundreds of them. They floated lazily through the greenhouse, weaving between the suspended pots of red, pink, and white flowers that hung from the ceiling. The light they emitted was the only illumination in the room, soft, warm, and almost ethereal.

Lilia stared, lips parting in quiet awe. Tom watched her reaction closely, his expression softening slightly. He had remembered. During a passing conversation, weeks ago, she had mentioned how much she loved fireflies. And so he had made sure that tonight, they would be here.

She walked forward slowly, drawn to the flickering glow. Then, turning back to him, she grinned. A real, unguarded, beautiful smile. "Tom- this is incredible," she whispered, standing beneath the canopy of floating flowers and dancing fireflies. "It’s beautiful."

Tom’s chest felt warm, impossibly warm, because he had done this. And he could see it in her eyes. Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers ghosting over her cheek before tilting her face upwards, his touch firm but careful, like he was handling something fragile.

They were close now, their bodies nearly pressed against each other, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her like a blanket. His face hovered mere inches from hers, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath against her lips. She inhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling unevenly. His dark eyes searched her face for something she was not entirely sure about.

Lilia’s brows knit together in the smallest of frowns, her lips parting just slightly. Tom was waiting. He had stopped, holding himself still, watching her reaction. Giving her a choice. If she wanted to pull away, she could. 

But she didn’t want to.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned in, closing the space between them, pressing her lips softly against his. A shudder ran through her as she felt just how warm, how impossibly soft his lips were against hers. 

That was all Tom needed.

His lips moved against hers, slow at first, almost as if savoring the moment. Then his fingers slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck, gripping tightly, pulling her closer. She tasted of champagne, her lips just as sweet, just as intoxicating. Tom wasn’t sure what to expect. If she would shy away, if she would hesitate. She didn’t.

Instead, she melted against him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his waistcoat, clinging to him because her legs suddenly felt unsteady beneath her. The realization shattered his restraint.

The kiss turned desperate. Tom’s mouth moved against hers with a growing intensity, his grip tightening, possessive, demanding. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, biting down gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. A soft, breathless moan escaped her lips. It sent something thrumming through him. His hands slid lower, anchoring her against him as he deepened the kiss, their bodies flush together. The fever between them was dizzying: like a hunger neither of them knew they had until this moment. When they finally pulled apart, it was only to breathe.

Lilia blinked up at him, her lips pink and swollen, her cheeks flushed, her hair slightly mussed. Tom exhaled, his own breathing uneven, his lips just as reddened from the intensity of the kiss. And yet, he still looked so composed. Lilia frowned, slightly irritated. "Why do you always look so calm and collected?" She whispered, her voice breathy, barely steady.

A low chuckle escaped him, deep and husky. "Does this feel calm and collected to you?" He took her hand and guided it to his chest. Her breath caught. Underneath her fingertips, she felt his heartbeat: fast, erratic, completely untamed. Lilia swallowed, suddenly too aware of everything.

And then, without thinking, she bit her bottom lip. The same one he had just nipped. Tom’s eyes darkened instantly. 

He didn’t say anything, but took her hand and led her toward the back of the greenhouse. That corner was usually where students stored their bags during Herbology lessons, but now, it had been completely transformed.

A plush throw blanket was spread across the floor, layered with soft pillows and cushions, rose petals scattered between them. A few candles flickered around the space, casting a golden glow over the deep reds and velvets of the setup.

Lilia’s chest tightened. "Did you do this?" She asked, her voice almost lost beneath the steady hum of the rain. Tom watched her intently and his eyes burned with something she couldn’t quite place. "I did. I thought we could spend some time here." They both knew how much they valued their quiet conversations: those stolen moments when they could peel back their layers, revealing thoughts and fears only they could share.

"There’s something else I want you to see," Tom continued, voice softer now. "But first, settle down here." Lilia eased onto the blankets, adjusting the heavy folds of her dress. The slit along her leg spilled open, exposing smooth skin to the cool air. And to Tom’s gaze. He lowered himself behind her, pulling her gently against him. She melted into the warmth of his chest, his head resting lightly atop her hair.

"Look up, Lilia." 

As soon as Tom spoke, the fireflies flickered out. Lilia sucked in a breath as darkness cloaked them. But then, one by one, the tiny creatures lit up in waves, a rhythm forming in the space above them. It started at the center of the greenhouse and expanded outward in a circular motion, each pulse of light moving like ripples on a still pond. Soon, patterns began to form, spirals, zigzags, constellations of golden embers weaving through the air like an unspoken spell.

Lilia’s breath caught. They were dancing. A mating dance, she realized. Fireflies courting each other with intricate displays of light.

The soft illumination reflected off the petals hanging from the ceiling, painting everything in a warm, golden haze. The entire greenhouse had been transformed into a dreamscape, an intimate world crafted just for the two of them.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the dance ended. One by one, the fireflies dimmed, until all that remained was the candlelight flickering in the dark. 

Lilia didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Tom pressed his lips together, watching the final glow fade. The air between them shifted, thick, charged, filled with something fragile yet heavy. His grip on her waist tightened slightly as she subtly moved against him, hsi breath hitching at the sensation.

Lilia wasn’t sure if it was the champagne, the magic of the fireflies, or the way Tom was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world, but she felt lightheaded, untethered. Then, his hands slid up her sides, slowing her movement, his lips ghosting over her ear. "Come with me."

His voice was low, almost rough. Lilia swallowed, her pulse stammering against her ribs. She didn’t ask where they were going. She trusted him.

Tom took her hand, leading her away from the warmth of the greenhouse and into the cool night air. The rain still pattered gently against the spell protecting them, droplets bouncing and rolling off an invisible barrier, keeping them dry.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The air smelled of wet stone, damp leaves, and fresh earth, a stark contrast to the heady warmth they had just left behind. Lilia squeezed his hand, her mind still tangled in what had just happened. She didn’t know what she expected, but she knew she wasn’t ready for the night to end.

Tom led her deeper into the castle, their footsteps nearly silent as they moved through dimly lit corridors, past ancient portraits and shadowed alcoves. They climbed a winding, narrow staircase that she was certain wasn’t on any Hogwarts map. Each step seemed to peel away the world behind them, until it was just the two of them, climbing higher and higher.

When they reached the top, Tom pressed his palm against the wall. The stones shifted under his touch. A doorway appeared where there had been none before. Lilia barely had time to process before he pulled her inside. 

And suddenly, she understood.

This room was breathtaking. 

The ceiling was enchanted, a dome of dark glass, allowing them to see the rain as it tapped gently above them. There was an old fireplace with a small fire warming the place. Bookshelves lined the walls, stacked with forgotten tomes and ancient secrets. A large, worn velvet couch, a few scattered cushions, and the unmistakable scent of parchment and candle wax. 

Silence, save for the sound of their breathing, the rain against the glass, and the distant rumble of thunder.

Tom finally let go of her hand. "This is my place," he murmured, watching her reaction. Lilia turned to look at him, her breath shallow. "You come here alone?" He nodded. "No one else knows about it." She blinked up at him, realization dawning in her eyes. He had brought her here. To his secret place.

A slow, deliberate shiver ran down her spine.

Tom didn’t give her a chance to process further before he pulled her down onto his lap on the velvet couch. Lilia barely had time to gasp before she felt the warmth of his body beneath her, his hands settling at her waist, steadying her. She was sitting sideways, her legs curled over his, but the placement felt deliberate, possessive. She glanced up at him, eyes wide, but he only watched her with that same quiet intensity that always made her breath hitch.

"Tom…" "Do you like it?" He asked, his voice deceptively soft. It took her a second to remember he wasn’t talking about this, about them. He meant the room. The effort. The fact that he had planned a small show in the greenhouse and then brought her here. 

"I- " Lilia began, overwhelmed. She turned slightly in his hold, her breath unsteady. "I don’t have the words to express how beautiful everything is." His gaze softened just enough for her to notice. "Good."

Lilia felt her pulse hammering at her throat. She had rarely been on the receiving end of something so thoughtful, so personal. Tom Riddle, of all people, had planned this for her. She hesitated, then shifted slightly so that she was fully straddling his lap, her knees sinking into the fabric on either side of him. Tom adjusted without hesitation, his long legs stretching out beneath her, his hands sliding to rest on her waist as if they belonged there.

"How did you plan all this out?" She asked, fingers skimming over the crisp fabric of his collar before settling on his shoulders. "You mentioned liking fireflies once," he said simply, his thumbs brushing over the material of her dress, dangerously close to where the fabric split at her thighs. "It was in a conversation with Icarus. I remembered." She blinked, stunned. "You remembered that?" "Why wouldn’t I?" His voice was calm, but his grip subtly tightened at her question.

Her chest ached in the strangest way. She glanced around the room, taking in the candlelight, the bookshelves brimming with old books, the rain pattering gently against the glass ceiling. He had brought her here. To his private space. The place no one else knew about.

"Do you like me a lot?" Lilia asked before she could stop herself. A slow smirk curled at the edge of Tom’s lips, but when he spoke next, his voice was lower, darker. "If you could feel me, you’d understand just how much I like you." Her breath hitched. Heat pooled in her stomach at the implication of his words.

Without thinking, she shifted in his lap, just slightly, just enough, and gasped when she felt him, hard and unmistakable, pressing against her. The slit in her dress had fallen open, the fabric spilling around her thighs, leaving nothing but thin layers of fabric between them. Tom exhaled sharply, his grip tightening just a fraction at her waist. His pupils were blown, his usual control teetering on the edge.

For a brief second, neither of them moved.

Lilia chose to blame the champagne again as she leaned in, pressing her lips against Tom’s. One of her hands threaded into his hair, fingers curling into the surprisingly soft locks, eliciting a low sound from him that sent a shiver down her spine. She gasped against his mouth when his hands moved to her corset, fingers deftly working at the laces.

But then he pulled away, and to her horror, she whined in protest, making him chuckle. 

His lips hovered close to hers, the warmth of his breath fanning over her face. "Remove your concealments, Lilia." Her body locked up instantly, and she shook her head, barely suppressing the tremor in her fingers. Panic flickered in her eyes, her breath coming out too shallow.

“Lilia.” His voice was softer now, almost coaxing. “No," she whispered, voice so small it barely reached his ears. "I don’t like my scars. They’re ugly.” “Your scars are not ugly," Tom murmured, his hand coming up to brush his thumb over her cheek, his gaze steady. "They are part of who you are. I don’t want you to hide yourself from me.” Lilia swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to think I’m ugly.”

Something tightened in Tom’s chest. He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected the rawness in her voice, the way she looked at him like he had the power to shatter her completely. He hated it. Hated that she thought he would ever find her anything but mesmerizing. "You are beautiful, Lilia." His voice was firm, unwavering. “Gorgeous. Stunning. No words will ever do justice to how beautiful you are in my eyes.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, she nodded, her fingers trembling as she waved her hand over her upper body, undoing the concealment charms. Tom’s breath hitched slightly as the scars appeared. He had expected them, knew they were there, but something about seeing them now, bared to him under the dim light, sent a foreign warmth curling in his chest. Not disgust. Not pity. Just… tenderness. Admiration.

Lilia waited for the moment his expression would change. She had seen it before- the way people’s eyes flashed with pity, with discomfort, with horror. But Tom simply looked at her. Truly looked at her.

Then he leaned in, his lips brushing over her jaw. Lilia’s breath stuttered. He trailed kisses down the curve of her throat, lingering against her pulse before biting down, not too hard, just enough to make her gasp. Her head tilted back instinctively, giving him more.

His hands had resumed their slow, torturous work on her corset, pulling at the laces inch by inch. Meanwhile, his mouth continued its descent, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, then lower, right above her breasts. Lilia whimpered, fingers tightening around his shoulders. She was so sensitive, her body already responding with every slow drag of his lips against her skin. She barely noticed when her corset finally loosened. All she could focus on was the heat of his mouth, the way it lingered against her skin like he wanted to mark her, to claim her.

And Merlin help her, she wanted to let him.

Tom left a trail of dark marks across her skin, each one a deliberate reminder of where his lips had been. By the time he reached the last lace of her corset, his patience had run thin. With a slow, precise tug, he loosened the fabric completely, letting it slide down her arms. Her breath hitched as the garment fell away, exposing soft, untouched skin to his hungry gaze.

He leaned back slightly, taking her in. Lilia shivered under his scrutiny, her lips parting as if to say something, maybe a protest, maybe a plea, but nothing came out. He could feel the tension in her body, the vulnerability in her posture, the way her fingers clenched at the fabric pooled around her waist.

And then his hand moved. Slow, deliberate, fingertips barely brushing over her left breast before his thumb flicked the hardened bud. Lilia gasped, her body arching instinctively into his touch. 

So sensitive . 

He smirked, reveling in the reaction, in the way her lips trembled with unspoken need. The moment stretched, tension winding tighter between them. His hand continued its lazy exploration, tracing the curve of her breast before pinching her nipple between his fingers. A sharp, desperate moan left her lips, her head falling back.

"You’re so responsive," Tom murmured, his voice like velvet. He dipped his head, brushing his lips against her collarbone, then lower, his breath hot against her flushed skin. When he bit down, sucking just above the swell of her breast, Lilia let out a shaky, breathless cry. The sound sent something dark and possessive curling in his chest.

His tongue flicked over her nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking, biting, teasing until her whimpers grew frantic. Her hands clawed at his shoulders, nails digging in as her hips rocked against him, desperate for more. Tom released her with a soft pop, watching the way she trembled. Her breasts, marked by his mouth, flushed and aching for his attention, rose and fell with every ragged breath she took.

She was stunning .

His smirk deepened as he felt her, the undeniable heat pressed against him, the way her thighs trembled. His hands settled on her waist, stilling her movements with an infuriating slowness. “You’re impatient, aren’t you?” His voice was a low murmur against her skin, amused and darkly indulgent.

Lilia thought she might pass out from how much she wanted him. Her body thrummed with frustration, need coiling in her stomach. She whimpered, her eyes hazy as she begged him silently to do something. But Tom was enjoying this.

“You know what I want to hear.” He flicked her nipple again, watching as she gasped, her lips parting in a soft plea. She swallowed thickly, embarrassment and arousal warring inside her. But her need won. “Touch me. Please.” 

Tom tilted his head, feigning disinterest. “I already am.”

She whimpered again, desperate. His smirk was maddening, his control absolute. “Tom.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried so much want, so much need, that something in him snapped.

With one hand still teasing her breast, Tom trailed his other hand down her side, his fingertips barely grazing her skin. Lilia shivered, her breath hitching as he took his time, knowing exactly what he was doing to her. "Is this what you want me to do?" His voice was a murmur against her ear, velvet and maddening. His touch remained infuriatingly light, teasing, avoiding exactly where she needed him.

A frustrated whimper left her lips. Reaching out a shaky hand, she took his wrist and guided him, pushing his hand under the slit of her dress, pressing it against the damp lace of her underwear. "Here," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Tom." His breath caught, just for a second, and then his fingers pressed against her. Lilia let out a soft cry at the contact, her body trembling as he applied just enough pressure against her clit through the thin fabric.

"So eager," he mused, his voice dark with satisfaction. 

His fingers moved, tracing slow, torturous circles over the lace, right where she needed him the most. He could feel the heat of her, the way she was already soaking through the fabric, how her body was responding to every careful movement he made. Lilia gasped, her head falling forward, resting in the crook of his neck as she ground against his hand, her hips moving of their own accord.

"That’s it," Tom murmured, his free hand running up and down her spine in a slow, soothing contrast to the wicked pressure between her thighs. She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to suppress her moans, but he could hear them anyway: soft, breathy, helpless.

She sounded pathetic. He loved it. 

Tom pulled his hand away, reveling in the sharp whine that escaped her lips. The sound sent a thrill down his spine. So desperate. So utterly pliant beneath him. 

With slow, deliberate hands, he grasped her waist and guided her backward, lowering her onto the couch. The shift left her dress spilling around her, the deep slit parting just enough to bare the smooth expanse of her thigh. He sat back, taking his time as he drank her in.

Her hair fanned out in dark waves, her skin glowing in the dim candlelight, and his marks bloomed across her throat, collarbones, and the swell of her breasts. Tom’s chest rose with something he refused to name. Possession. Desire. A hunger so deep it rooted itself in his bones.

Kneeling between her legs, he let his fingers trail down her thigh, tracing the soft, sensitive skin that had him wondering just how much further he could push her. He knew she wanted this, needed this, but that didn’t mean he would make it easy. Not yet.

The slit in her dress gave him the perfect view, and when he finally peeled the fabric away, his breath caught. The delicate lace of her panties was utterly ruined, the darkened patch evidence of just how much she wanted him. He dragged the tip of his finger over it, exhaling sharply at the way she trembled beneath him.

"Tom-” Lilia’s voice was breathless, needy. Ruined already. He didn’t bother hiding his satisfied smile. "Patience, my dear," he murmured, finally shifting the lace aside. His throat went dry. Fuck. 

She was glistening, soaked. All for him. His first touch was slow, almost cruel, dragging one long finger along her entrance. Lilia’s head fell back, a moan spilling from her lips, her back arching beautifully at the contact.

And Merlin help him. Tom had never wanted anything more.

"Get this wet for me, Lilia?" Tom’s voice was low, rough, the timbre sending a shiver straight to her core. His finger traced over her folds, slow and teasing, avoiding the one spot where she craved him most. Lilia’s breath hitched, her thighs twitching in anticipation. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

Tom hummed in approval, his touch featherlight, maddening. "What do you want me to do?" He asked, his fingers skimming just close enough to make her hips stutter forward, chasing the friction. Lilia’s cheeks burned. He knew what she wanted, he just wanted to hear her say it. But the words stuck in her throat, tangled in embarrassment. Instead, she whined softly and arched her hips again, trying to wordlessly urge him on.

Tom pulled away without warning. And slapped her clit. 

A cry tore from her lips, half-moan, half-sob, her body jerking in shock. Her thighs trembled, spreading wider without conscious thought. "I asked you a question, Lilia," he murmured, tone dripping with condescension. "If you don’t answer, I’ll stop right now."

Panic flickered across her face. No . No, she couldn’t bear that. "Finger me," she whimpered. Tom smirked. "Didn’t quite catch that." "Please, Tom," she gasped, voice breaking. "Finger me." His lips curled into something devastatingly pleased. "And why would I do that?"

Lilia felt like she was drowning, heat coiling tight inside her stomach. "Because I need you," she whispered desperately. "Do you now?" His voice was deliberately cruel. To prove his point, he ran his fingers through her folds again, still avoiding her clit, just enough to keep her on edge. Her body betrayed her, bucking into his hand as another moan escaped her lips.

Tom watched her in fascination. "Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice sinful. "So needy for me." Lilia’s breath caught. A shiver ran down her spine, pure shock and arousal tangling into one. Tom Riddle rarely praised like this. He was composed, always in control, wielding words like a weapon: sharp, precise, devastating.

But this? This was filth laced with reverence.

And the worst part- she liked it.

Tom noticed. Of course, he did. The moment the words left his mouth, he felt her walls clench so tightly around nothing that he let out a low, knowing chuckle. "Oh, you liked that," he whispered darkly. "Didn’t you, my dear?"

Before she could even process her own reaction, he finally slid a single finger inside her. A sharp, broken moan tore from her throat, her back arching off the couch. And Tom had never felt more powerful in his life.

Tom barely gave her time to adjust before he pushed a second finger inside her, slamming them deep into her soaking heat. Lilia’s head lolled to the side, her body writhing under the overwhelming pleasure, sinful sounds spilling from her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut as waves of heat rolled through her. But suddenly, Tom’s hand was at her throat, his grip firm but not constricting. Just enough to remind her who was in control.

With a slow, deliberate squeeze, he tilted her chin back toward him. “Look at me.” His voice was sharp, commanding, and it sent a fresh pulse of arousal straight to her core.

Lilia’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, her brows pulled together in a deep frown of pleasure. Her lips parted, struggling to form words, but all that came out was a breathy whimper. “Feels… so good,” she choked out, her voice barely above a gasp.

Tom smiled, dark and knowing, before curling his fingers inside her, hitting a spot so deep her entire body trembled. At the same time, his thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing slow, tight circles that made her back arch off the couch. “Yeah?” His voice was smooth, dripping with satisfaction.

Lilia moaned, her hands gripping the fabric of his collar, desperate for something to ground herself. The muscles in her stomach tightened as she neared the edge, pleasure winding through her so intensely she thought she might shatter. “Tom,” she whimpered, her body taut, trembling. She was falling, unraveling.

He leaned in, brushing his lips over hers, his breath warm and teasing. “Let go, Lilia.” His mouth crashed against hers just as his fingers sped up, relentless in their rhythm. She was teetering on the precipice, and then, he tightened his grip around her throat, just enough to make her dizzy, just enough to make her feel like she was his . The coil inside her snapped.

Lilia came with a sharp cry, her entire body shaking violently as pleasure consumed her. Her thighs clamped around his hand, her vision going white as she rode out the waves, utterly lost in him. Tom stilled his movements, letting her pulse around his fingers, his other hand releasing her throat only to stroke down her side, grounding her as she trembled beneath him.

His dark gaze roamed over her, messy, spent, completely wrecked, and his cock throbbed painfully against his pants. He was painfully hard, unbearably restrained. The sight of her like this, of what he had done to her, was almost too much.

And he was far from finished.

Lilia whimpered when he withdrew his hand, her breath still unsteady. But her eyes widened when she saw him bring his fingers to his lips, licking them clean of her wetness. Heat flooded her cheeks, mortified yet aroused at the sight. “You made a mess all over my hands,” he murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. He held his palm up for her to see, glistening with her arousal, before deliberately running his tongue over each finger that was inside her, tasting her.

Her breath caught in her throat. Did she taste nice? The thought had never crossed her mind before, and now, watching him, she felt both exposed and worried. Instinct told her to look away, but his hand was still around her throat, keeping her in place, forcing her to meet his gaze. He didn’t let go until he was done, his eyes watching her all the while. When he finally loosened his grip, he exhaled, seemingly pleased, before leaning in, brushing his lips over her jaw.

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice softer now, though the intensity in his expression hadn’t faded.

Lilia nodded, though she barely had the energy to answer. Her limbs felt weak, her body still pulsing with the aftermath of her orgasm. But even as exhaustion settled into her bones, a different kind of hunger took over. With shaking fingers, she reached for her dress and slid it down, pushing the red fabric away from her body. It pooled at her ankles, leaving her bare except for her ruined underwear and the heels still strapped to her feet.

Tom’s gaze darkened, tracking her every movement as she shifted onto her knees and placed her hands on his shoulders, guiding him back until he was leaning against the armrest. He let her move him, intrigued, his long legs parting as she settled between them.

“Let me suck you off,” she whispered, her voice a plea, breathy and wanting. “Please.”

Tom inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he fought back a groan. He wasn’t expecting her to beg like that. But fuck, he liked it. 

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shrugged off his blazer followed by his waistcoat, then unbuttoned the top of his white shirt, loosening it enough for her to see the prominent lines of his collarbones. His fingers were steady as he undid his belt, unzipped his trousers, and pulled down his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed, and achingly hard.

Lilia’s lips parted, a soft gasp escaping before she could stop herself. He was big. Bigger than she expected. She swallowed hard, nervous but determined. “I’ve never done this before,” she admitted, voice small, almost shy.

Tom’s reached for her. Gently, he plucked the rose from her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. “You don’t have to,” he murmured, his voice calmer, gentler than before.

“I want to,” she said immediately, shaking her head. “Let me make you feel good.”

Tom exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. “You want to please me, Lilia?” His voice was low, almost taunting.

“Yes.”

His lips curved into a smirk. “You want my cock in your mouth?”

She bit her lip, something hot curling in her stomach at his filthy words. She should’ve been embarrassed, but instead, her walls clenched around nothing. “Yes, please,” she moaned, her thighs pressing together at the thought of him filling her mouth. And later, her pussy.

Tom groaned, gripping the base of his cock as he watched her with half-lidded eyes. “Then be a good girl and show me. I’ll guide you,” Tom murmured, his voice thick with lust. Lilia nodded, swallowing nervously before parting her lips and taking him into her mouth. He was heavy on her tongue, warm and thick, and when she tried to take him deeper, he hit the back of her throat. Instantly, she gagged, her throat constricting around him as she pulled away with a desperate gasp for air.

Tom was breathing heavily. “Too much for you?”

Before she could respond, his fingers twisted in her hair, yanking her head back with a rough tug. She yelped, her lips still slick from her attempt, a strand of saliva connecting her mouth to his cock. Lilia hurried to wipe her chin, but Tom caught the sight and smirked, shifting his stance.

Still kneeling between his legs, she watched as he guided himself back between her lips. She took her time, running her tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing every ridge and vein. When she pressed her tongue firmly against the sensitive spot beneath the head, Tom exhaled a sharp moan, his grip in her hair tightening.

“Right there,” he rasped. His control slipped for a moment, his hips twitching forward slightly, as though he wanted to fuck her throat but was holding himself back. Using her hair as leverage, he began setting a rhythm, guiding her head up and down his cock. Lilia quickly got the hang of it, hollowing her cheeks and taking him as deep as she could manage. She gagged again when he hit the back of her throat, but she didn’t stop this time, pushing through the discomfort, her throat fluttering around him.

Tom murmured a spell under his breath, and suddenly, Lilia felt the unmistakable pull of invisible restraints around her wrists. Her hands were wrenched behind her back, bound by an unseen force. She gasped around him, her wide eyes snapping up to his face, but he only stared down at her with dark amusement.

Tears welled in her eyes, drool pooling at the corners of her lips, but she had no way to wipe it away. She could only kneel there, helpless, forced to take him deeper. The lack of control sent an unbearable rush of arousal straight to her core. She shifted, her thighs pressing together desperately, aching for friction. But she had no relief, only the slow, mind-numbing heat between her legs and the way Tom was using her mouth.

A whimper escaped her, muffled around his length, her eyes pleading.  “You look so pretty on your knees for me,” Tom praised, loosening his grip in her hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a mockery of gentleness. “So pretty with my cock in your mouth, drooling like a pathetic little thing.”

A pathetic little thing.

Lilia felt the words like a physical touch. Her entire body trembled as another wave of slickness soaked her already ruined panties. She moaned around his cock, the vibration making him hiss through his teeth.

Tom groaned, his control fraying. His fingers curled tightly in her hair once more as his hips flexed forward. But at the last second, he let out a sharp breath and pulled her away. Lilia gasped, coughing slightly as air rushed back into her lungs. She barely had a chance to gather herself before his hand was on her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

His expression was dark and consuming, more intense than anything she had ever seen. “Lie down.”

Tears streaked Lilia’s flushed cheeks, her lips slick with drool and Salazar, she was beautiful. Tom had never seen anyone look so utterly ruined, so breathtakingly undone, and the knowledge that he was the one who had unraveled her like this sent a pulse of satisfaction through him.

He didn’t waste a second. Pushing her back against the couch, he shrugged off the last of his clothing, each piece revealing more of himself to her. Lilia barely breathed as she watched him undress. Her throat went dry when his shirt slid off his shoulders, exposing the lean, smooth expanse of his chest. The dim firelight cast golden shadows across his pale skin, accentuating the lines of his collarbones, the sharp ridges of his ribs, the defined muscles of his abdomen.

Her gaze fell to the scar across his chest. The one she had given him. The thought made something tighten deep inside her, an odd mix of guilt and possession curling in her stomach. But before she could dwell on it, her eyes traced the smaller scars along his arms, his shoulders: faint, but present. Proof that Tom Riddle was not untouchable.

And then, as he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his trousers, she took in the entirety of him. His long, toned legs, his bare skin catching the light. And finally- Oh . Her lips parted, heat pooling between her legs as her gaze fell to his cock. He was thick, painfully hard, and the sheer size of him sent a pulse of anticipation through her. 

How was he going to fit inside her?

Lilia barely had time to process the thought before the sharp sound of fabric tearing filled the room as he tore her underwear clean off, the sudden action making her gasp. “Tom!”  A smirk tugged at his lips, but before she could glare at him, he leaned in, one hand gripping her thigh, his mouth placing a soft, almost reverent kiss against her ankle.

Lilia shivered, her breath hitching as he trailed his lips along the length of her leg- over her calf, the inside of her knee, her trembling inner thigh. Each touch was slow, deliberate, his warm breath ghosting over her flushed skin. By the time he reached her center, she was shaking with need.

Then, he licked her. A sharp cry broke from her lips, her hips jerking slightly at the sudden warmth of his tongue sliding across her slit. “Tom .” His name fell from her lips like an intimate prayer, over and over, as he took her clit into his mouth and sucked.

Tom pulled away, shifting until he was positioned between her trembling legs. He pressed the head of his cock against her slit, dragging it along her wetness with slow, deliberate strokes. Lilia sucked in a sharp breath, her thighs twitching at the sensation.

“I haven’t done this before.” Her voice was quiet, laced with vulnerability.

Tom stilled, his dark eyes searching hers. “No?”

She swallowed, fingers tightening slightly against the fabric beneath her. “Not like this.”

He paused. Then, he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “Just look at me, hmm?” Lilia nodded, heart thrumming wildly in her chest.

Tom placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her in, and slowly, agonizingly slowly , pushed inside her. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp, her brows knitting together in a tight frown as she stretched around him. But she kept her eyes locked on his, watching as his usual composure unraveled. His neatly styled curls now fell wildly across his forehead, his cheeks were flushed with warmth, and his lips- Merlin , his lips. They were parted slightly as he exhaled a low, ragged breath, his jaw tense as if he were holding himself back. 

He was beautiful.

A soft moan slipped from her lips as he filled her up completely. Tom pulled back, his cock sliding out just enough before pressing back in, setting a slow, measured rhythm. It didn’t hurt like it had in the Malfoy manor. Instead, it was a pressure, a stretch, that gave way to something deeper that coiled low in her stomach, flooding her with pleasure.

Her breathing turned shallow, her chest rising and falling as she tried to process just how good he felt inside her. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She whimpered, eyes fluttering shut momentarily as frustration curled inside her. “What is it?” Tom’s voice was strained, his self-restraint evident in the way his muscles tensed, in the way he held himself back for her. She bit her lower lip, swallowing another whimper before forcing out the words. “Harder.” 

His breath hitched. “Fuck.”

And then, he gave in. His pace snapped, hips slamming forward as he drove into her with a force that made her cry out. The sounds spilling from her lips were utterly obscene, desperate, but she didn’t care. He was fucking her so hard she swore she was seeing stars behind her closed eyelids.

“Fuck, Tom .”

“Look at me.” Her lashes fluttered as she forced her eyes open, just as tears slipped down her cheeks from the sheer intensity of it all. Tom watched them fall, his lips curling slightly in satisfaction before he brought his hand to her throat, his fingers tightening just enough to make her gasp. Then, he kissed her tears away.

“You feel me, don’t you?” He murmured, voice low and sharp, his thrusts never slowing. “Deep inside you.” Lilia nodded frantically, unable to form words. “You were made for this,” he said, dragging the words out like a promise. “Made for me.”

The heat in her belly tightened, unbearable. Her head dipped in a frantic nod again. But it wasn’t enough for him. “Say it.” There was that command in his voice again. Not mocking but demanding, like he needed to hear her say it just as much as she needed to say it.

Lilia swallowed, throat dry, voice shaking. “I… I was made for you.” The moment the words left her mouth, heat flushed across her face. She couldn’t believe what she had just said, what he had dragged out of her.

And the way Tom’s smirk deepened, the way his grip on her throat tightened ever so slightly… He fucking loved it. “That’s right,” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin. “You take me so well.” His mouth trailed down to her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before sinking in just enough to make her cry out. At the same time, his hand slid between them, fingers finding her clit with practiced ease.

Lilia sobbed. This position made everything too much. The weight of his body over hers, the tight grip around her throat, the relentless thrusts, the merciless circles over her swollen clit; it was unbearable. "Too much, please, I can't-"

"You can and you will." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, no space for hesitation. 

And fuck, she wanted it. Her body betrayed her, back arching as pleasure overtook her limbs. Her walls clenched around his cock in tight, rhythmic pulses, and Tom moaned into her neck at the sensation.

His breath was hot against her ear when he whispered, "Remember this every time you look at another guy." Lilia’s breath stuttered. "Remember that it’s my cock that makes you cry like this." The words sent a violent shudder through her, pushing her over the edge. 

She came with a scream, muffled against his lips as he swallowed every desperate sound she made. Her body shook, her thighs tightening around his hips as he kept thrusting, dragging out her pleasure until it felt like she was unraveling completely.

Tom groaned low in his throat, thrusting deeper, harder before he followed after her, spilling inside her with a deep, guttural moan. 

Lilia felt everything. 

The overwhelming heat. The way her body clenched, trying to keep every drop of him inside. The way her limbs trembled, the way his release started to seep out of her, slick and warm.

"Fuck, Lilia." Tom’s head fell against the crook of her neck, his breath ragged, his weight deliciously heavy over her. His grip loosened, his fingers finally slipping from her throat, his hand pulling away from between her legs. And yet, she still felt like she was drowning in him.

They lay there for a moment, panting. Burning.

Then, slowly, too slowly, Tom pulled out. Lilia whimpered at the sudden emptiness, her entire body shuddering at the loss. Tom stilled, eyes locked onto where his cum was spilling from between her thighs. His jaw tensed, his pupils blown wide with a feeling so raw it almost took his breath away.

He liked the sight. He waved a hand over her stomach, muttering something under his breath. A faint golden glow spread across her skin. "What’s that?" She asked, her voice hoarse, ruined. Tom’s eyes flickered to hers. "Contraceptive charm."

She nodded, watching as he collapsed beside her. The moment his arms opened, she moved without thinking, pressing herself against his chest, curling into his warmth. His scent surrounded her, grounding her.

And as she closed her eyes, she let herself forget. For just a little while.

Forget who he was.

Forget who she was.

Forget that this would never last.

“You did well, Lilia,” Tom whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. His voice was softer than she had ever heard it, like the edge had been smoothed away by the weight of their shared exhaustion. The words warmed her more than they should have. She blinked up at him, eyes fragile and tender.

“Everything was amazing, Tom,” she murmured, a small smile ghosting her lips. His fingers traced slow circles on her bare skin, and he studied her face carefully. “Was I too rough?” She shook her head. “No. I liked the way you were.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “You like it rough, hmm?” She groaned, burying her face against his chest before adding, “And you have a filthy mouth.” His chuckle was low, pleased. “Do you like it?” Lilia hesitated, then peeked up at him through her lashes. “It’s a nice change from your usual uptight self.”

Tom hummed in amusement, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. She shifted slightly, her fingertips ghosting over the scar on his chest. Her scar . Her throat tightened as she traced the roughened skin. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she whispered. Tom exhaled. “Don’t worry about it, Lilia.” His lips quirked. “I would say sorry for the hickeys I left on your neck, but I don’t mean that.”

Her mouth parted in a soft gasp. She pulled back just enough to glance down, only to gawk at the dark bruises scattered across her chest. “You’re just giving me more work to do in the morning,” she muttered. “I’d rather you didn’t cover them up.” “No, thank you.” Tom smirked but let it drop, instead pulling her closer.

They lay together in silence, listening to the rhythmic patter of rain against the glass ceiling. The storm was slowing now, the air in the room thick with the lingering scent of candle wax, sex, and him.

Lilia curled up against his side, her body molding into his. Sleep was pulling at her, lulling her deeper into warmth, into safety. But then his hand landed on her back. She flinched. Tom stilled. For a moment, neither of them moved. His fingers, which had once danced over her skin with ease, now hesitated as they traced the jagged, raised lines that marred her back. He didn’t speak, but she felt it. The way his body tensed, the way the lightness in the air dissolved like smoke.

His jaw clenched. His hand trembled. When he finally spoke, his voice was deceptively calm. 

“Who did this to you?” 

Lilia squeezed her eyes shut. His question wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. His tone was controlled, clipped but the restraint in it made her heart skip a beat. She buried her face into his chest, curling inward. “It’s nothing.” Tom’s silence was stifling. Her heart pounded, anxiety creeping into her bones, twisting itself into something ugly. Did he find her ugly now? Did he regret touching her?

Her throat tightened. The words spilled before she could stop them. “Are you mad at me?” The question was so small. So defenseless. Tom’s arms around her tightened, his grip firm but not harsh. “I’m not mad at you.” Lilia swallowed, but the weight in her chest remained.

Tom sighed, then shifted slightly, his fingers tilting her chin up. “Lilia. Look at me.” She did. Because she always listened to him. And when her weary gaze met his, he hated the doubt he saw there. “I promise I’m not mad at you,” he said, voice firm, measured. “I’m just angry at whoever hurt you like this.” He paused, eyes scanning her expression. “What happened?”

She couldn’t answer. How could she tell him that the person who had ordered it, who had orchestrated her torture, was him? Not this Tom. Not the one lying beside her now, holding her like something precious. But him .

She shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nothing that matters, really.” Tom hated that answer. He sighed through his nose, clearly unconvinced, but he let it go. For now. 

His fingers traced slow, careful strokes across her back. “It must have hurt a lot.” Lilia exhaled sharply, trying for lightheartedness. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “You shouldn’t have had to handle anything like this. Ever.” Her smile faltered. But then, Tom pulled her against him once more, tighter this time, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of her head.

Neither of them spoke after that.

Lilia stared past him, her mind drifting, her heart heavy. Would there ever be a time when she would genuinely be fine? When the past wouldn’t sit on her chest, pressing down, pressing in? Sometimes, she wondered if she had imagined it all. If the war, the pain, the loss, if Harry and Remus, had all been a dream.

But her scars always reminded her that it was real. The war had happened. And she had survived. 

And now she was here. 

Lying naked in the arms of Tom Riddle. Could she really change him? Could she show him something he had never been given? Could she give him something different from what the world had destined him to become?

She didn’t know.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia fell asleep.

Tom knew the exact moment it happened. Her breathing evened out, her body going slack in his arms. And yet, he couldn’t close his eyes. His fingers traced slow, repetitive patterns along the ridges of her back. She had so many scars.

Deeper, more brutal than anything he had seen before. They ran down her spine, over her shoulder blades, all the way to her waist. Thick. Uneven. Deliberate. Someone had done this to her. On purpose. And Tom wanted to kill them.

He hated the thought of Lilia, his Lilia, trapped somewhere with no way to defend herself. He hated whoever had dared to lay a hand on her. His fingers curled into fists.

And for the first time in a while, he thought of Grindelwald. How had he ever looked up to a wizard like that? How had he ever entertained the idea of learning from him? Tom swallowed hard, jaw tightening.

If he wanted to gain true power, it had to be through the Ministry. Through Hogwarts. Not through bloodshed. Not through war. No matter how much he had tried to adopt the pureblood ideology, he had never been able to fully erase his own past. He liked Muggle things. He liked the cereal he had eaten in the orphanage. He liked the cigarettes he had stolen from soldiers.

And Lilia had shown him that he didn’t have to fit into the mold people expected. His thoughts spiraled. He needed time. He needed plans.

But then, Lilia shifted. Her hand brushed against his cock. Tom froze. She was still half-asleep when she murmured, “I’m cold.” He smirked. “I can keep you warm.” His fingers found her nipple, rolling the hardened bud between his fingers. She moaned. 

The night wasn’t over yet.

And as the rain kept pouring outside, he spent the next few hours making sure she stayed warm.

Chapter Text

Lilia woke to the crisp scent of mint and warmth pressed against her. She groaned softly, still heavy with sleep, before blinking her eyes open.

Tom’s face was inches from hers, his long lashes resting against his cheekbones, his dark curls tousled. His lips, pink and slightly parted, stirred something deep in her chest, and heat flooded her face as the memories of the night before came rushing back.

They were tangled together, her body still pressed against his, and she realized with quiet astonishment that she hadn’t had a single nightmare.

Carefully, she shifted, peeling herself from his arms without waking him. Her body ached in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Her muscles sore, her lower half tender, the bruises on her skin pulsing with the faintest throb. Lilia glanced down, brushing her fingertips over her collarbone, feeling the tender skin from the marks he had left behind.

She swallowed.

The room was dark, the rain still drumming against the enchanted glass ceiling, the last of the candlelight flickering out. Judging by the murky blackness outside, dawn wasn’t far off.

She reached for her dress, fumbling with the fabric. The rustling must have disturbed Tom because a hand, warm and firm, slid across her lower back, making her gasp softly.

“You’re up?” She asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

His voice was rough with sleep. “Mmm. What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed.”

She reached for his blazer and slipped it over her shoulders. The lingering scent of his cologne surrounded her. “We should head back. I don’t want Celeste and Evangeline to get suspicious.”

“They probably already know,” he murmured, smirking slightly. Lilia shot him a glare. “Very reassuring,” she said dryly. “Besides, we can’t be caught out of bed when everyone wakes up.”

Tom groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fair point. Give me a moment.”

She sighed when she realized she’d have to leave behind her ruined underwear, and Tom, ever the gentleman when he chose to be, helped her tie her corset just tight enough to hold but loose enough to remove later.

He shrugged on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned at the collar, and without a second thought, he took her hand in his as they left the hidden tower room.

The castle was silent save for the rain pattering against the windows. They walked in step, hand in hand, a protective charm shielding them from the cold droplets outside.

Lilia couldn't explain why she felt so calm, so strangely at peace. Maybe it was the warmth of his fingers wrapped around hers, or the quiet understanding that, for now, she wasn’t alone.

In that moment, she didn’t want to go back to her own time. She didn’t want to return to the war-ravaged world that had shaped her into someone she barely recognized. She wanted to stay here with him, with her friends, where she could steal a moment of normalcy, where the weight of the past and future didn’t feel so crushing.

Selfish, maybe. But she hadn’t felt this content in years.

Tom walked her all the way to the entrance of her dormitory, releasing her hand only when she hesitated at the door.

“See you later, Lilia,” he murmured.

She met his gaze, warmth curling in her chest. “See you too, Tom.”

A small smile played on his lips before she slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. But she barely took two steps before freezing in place, her breath caught in her throat.

Evangeline stood by the bathroom, freshly changed into her nightclothes, and her sharp gaze immediately took in every damning detail: Lilia’s untied dress, the deep purpling marks blooming across her skin, Tom Riddle’s blazer hanging loosely from her shoulders.

Evangeline’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Did you two-”

“Goodnight!” Lilia all but yelped before bolting for her bed, shoving the door closed behind her.

Evangeline didn’t even try to hold back her laughter. “I knew it! I bloody knew it!” She exclaimed, crossing her arms. “You thought I wouldn’t notice you leaving with Riddle last night? Oh, Salazar. Abraxas and I had a grand time keeping track of everyone. First Celeste and Icarus, then you and Tom, then Tiernan and Neila-”

Lilia groaned into her hands, mortified beyond belief.

“Oh, my, my.” Evangeline smirked, watching her with pure amusement. “Riddle really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

Lilia made a strangled noise and dove under the covers, cheeks burning. “We are not talking about this,” she mumbled.

Evangeline shook her head with a knowing smile. “Oh, we are absolutely talking about this,” she said, climbing into her own bed. “But I’ll let you off for tonight. Sleep well, Lils.”

Lilia grumbled something unintelligible but didn’t argue. She curled deeper into her blankets, exhausted, but for the first time in a long time, she fell asleep with a strange, lingering warmth in her chest.

She just had no idea what the morning would bring.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Tom Riddle is a proper smart guy," Harry mused, lounging on the Gryffindor common room couch. Lilia rolled her eyes, arms crossed. "He tried to kill you. Maybe focus on that instead of his IQ?"

Her thirteen-year-old brain still couldn't wrap itself around what had happened.

How had Voldemort managed to preserve a piece of his soul in something as simple as a diary? She wasn't sure how Ginny had ended up with it, but the damn thing had been draining her, warping her thoughts, pulling her deeper into something dark.

Harry had told her everything: how he had stabbed the diary with a basilisk fang, how Dumbledore's phoenix had appeared just in time. The basilisk was dead now, its enormous corpse still coiled in the depths of the Chamber of Secrets.

Lilia had insisted on seeing it herself. She still remembered the bones. Scattered all over the Chamber, collecting in the corners, evidence of Salazar Slytherin’s intentions. Evidence of the monster that had roamed these halls, its victims long forgotten.

She shivered.

"It’s just… strange," Harry continued, thoughtful. "The diary bled when I stabbed it. And the version of Tom Riddle I saw, he wasn’t like the Voldemort we know. He was… almost human."

Lilia frowned. Human? She thought about Quirrell, about the grotesque face on the back of his head. About the way Voldemort had whispered to her, to all of them, in a voice laced with cruelty.

"Why didn’t Dumbledore come help?" She asked suddenly.

Silence.

She wanted to believe Dumbledore was truly on their side. He had sent Hagrid to fetch them, introduced them to the magical world, saved them from the Dursleys in a way. But if he knew what kind of life they had there, why had he left them? Why had he waited until the worst had already happened?

"He sent Fawkes and the Sorting Hat," Harry admitted, confirming her unspoken thoughts.

Lilia clenched her jaw.

Voldemort had been powerful, even then. A genius. At such a young age, he had created magic so advanced it made her stomach churn.

Her vision blurred. There was a sharp pull, like something had ripped her from the moment.

She was now standing in Dumbledore’s office.

The scent of parchment and lemon drops filled the air, but she could barely focus on it. Her reflection stared back at her from the glass, and her stomach lurched when she saw herself, not as a child, but older, her sixth-year self.

Across the desk, Dumbledore sat, the flesh of his hand blackened and decaying. He turned it slightly, and her breath caught when she saw it, the Gaunt ring. The same ring she now wore.

The Resurrection Stone.

A slow, agonizing death.

She couldn't breathe.

The world tilted again.

When her vision cleared, she was standing on a battlefield.

And Harry- 

Harry was dead.

Voldemort stood over him, laughing, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light. His skin was waxy, stretched over the bones of his face, barely human. He turned to her, head tilting as he regarded her with something almost amused.

"You are just like your traitor friends, aren’t you?" His voice was mocking. "A foolish little mugglewhore traitor."

The words hit her like a physical blow.

She staggered back.

And then-

Lilia woke up.

A sharp gasp ripped from her throat, her chest constricting so tightly she thought she might suffocate. Mugglewhore. Her stomach turned.

She had slept with Voldemort.

Her hands shook violently as the full weight of what she had done came crashing down. She had betrayed her friends.

Her family.

Every single person who had suffered because of him.

Because of his war.

The person who had hunted her, who had tortured her, who had killed everyone she loved.

And she had let him touch her.

Let him kiss her.

Let herself fall.

Lilia barely made it to the bathroom before she vomited. Her body trembled as she leaned over the toilet, her forehead pressed against the cool porcelain.

Her skin crawled with the memory of his hands, of the way he had worshipped her.

And worst of all?

She had liked it.

A ragged sob clawed its way out of her throat. She turned on the faucet, scalding hot, and scrubbed. Hard. Too hard. Her skin turned pink, then red, but she didn’t stop. She needed to get rid of it.

All of it.

Her hands shook as she finally stepped out of the bath, barely breathing as she concealed every single mark on her skin. She didn’t want to see them. Couldn’t bear to. She took an extra dose of her calming draught, but her hands still wouldn’t stop trembling.

Evangeline was awake when she walked back into the dorm.

The blonde looked up from her bed, smirking. “Morning, lover girl,” she teased, her voice still thick with sleep.

Lilia’s stomach twisted violently. “I regret it,” she said quickly.

The smirk vanished. "What?"

“I regret it,” she repeated, firmer this time.

Evangeline sat up fully now, her eyes searching Lilia’s face. “Lilia… Why are you saying this?”

“Because it’s true,” Lilia snapped, voice cracking. “It was a mistake. A huge mistake. I don’t even like him.”

Evangeline frowned. “Lilia-”

“He’s arrogant, he’s insufferable, he doesn’t care about anything other than himself,” she rattled off, as if listing the facts could make her believe them. “I drank too much and made a mistake.”

Evangeline hesitated, sensing that her friend was distraught. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t,” she said carefully. “Just… don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

Lilia nodded. She turned for the door, desperate to get out.

To breathe.

But the moment she opened it, she froze.

Tom was standing there. His face was unreadable. Cold. But his eyes were like ice. She had never seen them so empty.

“If you were going to regret it so much,” he said, voice eerily even, “why did you even say yes when I asked you to be my date?”

Her heart sank. “Tom, I-”

“Did you have fun?” His voice was sharp, precise. Lethal. “Listening to me confide in you? Did you enjoy pretending to care?”

“No! That’s not what-”

“Spare me.” His voice dropped. "Don’t think it made me happy to sit there and listen to you cry and whine about everything.”

Her chest caved in. “That’s not fair-”

“No, what’s not fair is all of us tiptoeing around you because of your past. Catering to you.” His voice curdled into something cruel. “But you don’t deserve kindness like that. You never did."

Lilia flinched. “I-”

“You are despicable, Rousseau,” he spat. “You pretend to be hurt, you pretend to be kind, but you are rotten inside."

Her throat closed. "Oh, like you're any better? You’ve killed people.”

"So have you."

The words hit her like a slap. "You have no right-” she seethed.

“I have every right,” he sneered. "Unlike you, I don’t pretend to be something I’m not."

Her fists clenched. “Fuck you, Riddle.”

Tom stared at her, eyes dark and cold. "You looked me in the eye," he said in an icy tone. "You let me hold you like you trusted me. And now you’re pretending it meant nothing?"

She choked out, “Shut up.”

He didn’t flinch. Just tilted his head slightly, like he was observing something under glass. “There it is,” he murmured. “The version of you no one else sees.”

Lilia’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. Her lower lip trembled, but she refused to let her tears fall.

"You’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” she whispered, voice shaking.

Tom leaned in slightly, his next words soft, yet laced with venom. "Likewise."

It was like a punch to her gut. 

Lilia exhaled shakily. “I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”

Tom’s expression didn’t change even as he felt like he could not breathe from how tight his chest felt. “Thank you for doing me a favor.” 

"I wish you the worst, Riddle.”

“You’re not even worth my time, Rousseau.”

He didn’t look back as he walked away, heart in shreds and stomach in knots.

Lilia stood frozen in place, numb.

She had done the right thing. 

She had to.

Then why did it feel like she had just destroyed something she could never rebuild?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia slowly drifted from her friends over the weekend. The rift between her and Tom was palpable, thick like smoke in the air, impossible to ignore.

Everyone had noticed it, how they avoided each other, how Tom refused to even glance in her direction, how Lilia kept her head down, her shoulders tense.

From the outside, it was clear: something had happened. Something that neither of them wanted to talk about.

And as much as Lilia tried to convince herself that she didn’t care, that it was better this way, the sharp ache in her chest every time Tom brushed past her without a word said otherwise.

She told herself she deserved it, that it was her own doing, that she had no right to want his presence after what she said.

But the silence? The complete dismissal? It still hurt.

From Tom’s perspective, she was a liar, a coward, a cruel joke disguised as a kindred soul. And she could never tell him otherwise. No one could know the truth. Her secret was too dangerous, and it was suffocating her.

She just wanted to talk to someone.

To let everything out.

But her punishment was the same no matter what time period she existed in. In the nineties, she had chosen to carry her burdens alone. In the forties, she had no choice.

She was alone. Again.

“I’ll have meals on my own now,” Lilia said quietly, forcing herself to meet Celeste and Evangeline’s eyes. Her friends exchanged a look. They knew what this meant. And they knew why.

“You shouldn’t have said yes if you didn’t like him, you know.” Celeste’s voice was soft, but there was a quiet reproach beneath it.

Lilia flinched, guilt coiling tight in her stomach. “I know.”

Celeste sighed, rubbing her temple. “This was too far, Lilia.”

It hurt to hear it. Even though she knew it.

Evangeline’s expression softened, but her words still struck like knives. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”

That was it.

That was all they said.

Not we’ll sit with you, not we’ll talk to Tom, not we’ll help fix this. Because even though they were her friends, even though she thought she belonged with them…

They would always choose Tom over her.

She nodded, pretending it didn’t matter. “Yeah. I will.”

Then she turned and walked away.

The weekend crawled by in an agonizing blur.

Lilia avoided the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and took her meals in solitude, staring at untouched plates of food. She tried not to watch Tom, not to let her gaze wander, but her eyes betrayed her more often than she wanted to admit.

He never once looked back at her.

She convinced herself it wasn’t a big deal.

That it was fine.

That she was strong enough to bear this.

But by Monday, when she sat at a different table in Potions, when Tom swept into the room without acknowledging her existence, the weight of it all settled heavy in her chest.

She felt it in the way her hands clenched into fists, in the way her throat burned when he walked past, as if she were nothing.

He barely spoke that lesson, offering only clipped responses. His jaw was set, his lips pressed into a thin line. But Lilia could feel the anger, the betrayal, the lingering resentment thrumming in the air between them.

Abraxas, sitting beside him, shot her a glare laced with open disdain. Lilia barely had time to register it before he turned back to Tom, muttering something under his breath. She knew it was about her. Malfoy never really liked her. 

Tom’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t even acknowledge Abraxas’s words. But he didn’t defend her either.

And that, more than anything else, made Lilia’s stomach twist painfully.

She had ruined everything.

And no matter how much she tried to tell herself it was for the best, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just lost something she would never be able to get back.

Chapter Text

It was a betrayal like no other. And it was his own damn fault.

Tom still remembered the day he met Lilia. The way her expression had been haunted, how she had looked small despite standing tall. He had thought her fragile at first, but he had quickly learned that she was anything but. 

And yet, for all her strength, there was something frayed about her. Something that called to him.

He should have known better.

Because he had felt this before.

With Myrtle.

Myrtle had been different from the others. The way she had looked at him, really looked at him, had made something in his chest tighten in a way he didn’t fully understand. He had liked spending time with her. Not out of obligation, not out of necessity, but because he wanted to.

And then, she had died. By his own basilisk.

Now, he had met someone else who made him feel that same tightness in his chest. Someone who made him want to confess things he had never said aloud. Someone who made him pause, who made him hesitate.

And she had betrayed him.

Lilia had been more than an attachment. He had let himself be vulnerable with her. He had given her parts of himself that no one else had ever seen, shared thoughts he would never dare speak to anyone else.

And she had lied. 

Had her nightmares been an act? Had she faked her tears just to see what he would do? The only thing he knew for certain was that her scars were real. Everything else? A carefully crafted deception.

Tom did not look at her anymore. He did not speak to her. He did not even acknowledge her. Instead, he thought about how best to avoid her because he could not bear the thought that he gave her so much power over him- just for her to throw it back in his face.

And by sheer, bitter chance, he had overheard the one thing that sealed his decision.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Well, well, good morning everyone,” Slughorn greeted as he entered the classroom, his booming voice halting the scattered conversations. The usual hum of the room fell into silence, but the real reason for the sudden hush wasn’t Slughorn.

A new figure followed behind him, tall, composed, dressed in neatly pressed Slytherin robes. He walked with an air of confidence that didn't belong to someone stepping into a room full of strangers.

Lilia had never seen him before. But the moment his gaze landed on her, she felt it. The way he looked at her was unsettling. A slow smirk stretched across his face, like he already knew something she didn’t. She stiffened. What was that about?

Slughorn, unaware of the tension already creeping into the room, smiled as he gestured toward the new student. “This is Nikolai Wilfred, a transfer student from Ilvermorny. He was sorted into Slytherin this morning, and this is his first class with us. I trust you’ll all be welcoming.” He clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

The boy, Nikolai, tilted his head slightly, his smirk never faltering. “Hello, everyone. I’m Nikolai. Sixth year, Ilvermorny transfer. My family moved to Britain for business.” His voice was smooth, deep, the American accent pronounced but unhurried.

Then, without looking at anyone else, he turned fully toward Lilia. And just stared. 

Tom noticed immediately. A muscle in his jaw twitched as his quill stilled in his hand. Lilia’s posture had gone rigid. She kept her head down, but he could tell: she felt it too.

A stranger. Staring at her. The feeling of being studied. 

Tom had spent the last two days pushing her from his mind, forcing himself to ignore her existence, but now someone else was looking at her. And she wasn’t stopping him.

He clenched his jaw, unable to tear his gaze away as Nikolai moved through the classroom, unbothered, self-assured, and then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he slid into the empty seat beside her.

Tom’s grip on his quill tightened.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Nikolai’s voice was soft, a teasing edge curling around the words like a challenge. Lilia’s breath hitched in surprise. She blinked at him, not expecting such a forward greeting. The warmth in her face betrayed her.

Tom felt something sour churn in his stomach. She flushed. She flushed at a complete stranger. The irritation sitting in his chest turned into something more potent, more insidious. Lilia had blushed for him once. Now, she was doing it for someone else. She should’ve ignored it. Should’ve turned away, dismissed the boy.

“Hello,” she whispered back. 

The tightness in Tom’s grip nearly snapped his quill in half. 

Nikolai leaned in slightly, his smirk widening as he studied her, as if he found her reaction amusing. “What’s your name?”

Don’t answer him . Tom’s thoughts were sharp, irritated, irrational. 

“Lilia Rousseau.” 

Tom forced his expression into blank indifference, even as something deep in his chest twisted. She shouldn’t have said it. 

Nikolai chuckled, tilting his head like he was rolling her name over in his mind. “Enchanted to meet you, Lilia.” She gave him a quick, half-hearted smile, then looked down at her parchment. She didn’t engage further. But she didn’t shut it down either.

And that was enough for Tom. No, he could not even keep her out of his thoughts. Not in the least.

Slughorn began the lecture, diving into the properties of the calming draught, but Tom didn’t hear a word. Because Lilia, who had spent the past two days pretending not to care about him, was sneaking glances his way.

Each time her eyes flickered toward him, something inside him seethed. 

Why? 

Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was searching for something. What did she expect? Did she think he would acknowledge her? Did she think he would look at her the way he had before? He refused. Instead, he turned the pages of his book, ignoring her entirely, as if she didn’t exist.

But Nikolai noticed.

“You keep staring at that guy.” Lilia stiffened at the quiet murmur beside her. She blinked at Nikolai, who was watching her with amusement, like he had caught onto something she didn’t want anyone to see.

She frowned. “I’m not.” “You’re cute when you lie.” She inhaled sharply, annoyed now. “Are you flirting with me?” Nikolai shrugged. “Maybe.” His smirk deepened. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even bother.” “Why? You fancy that guy?”

The air between them shifted. Her spine straightened. Her pulse spiked. “No!” She snapped. Too fast. Too defensive. And the worst part? The entire class turned to look at her.

Slughorn sighed. “Ah, Lilia. Anything to share with the class?” 

Her entire face burned. “No. I apologize for interrupting, Professor.” She wanted to disappear. 

“Professor, I apologize,” Nikolai cut in smoothly, his voice dipping into something charmingly apologetic. Tom barely resisted the urge to sneer. “I kept bothering her about places that are good for studying here. I think I may have gotten on her nerves.”

Lilia stiffened. Places to study? The liar. There was something deliberate about the way he spoke, like he wanted to publicly align himself with her. 

Slughorn rubbed his temple. “Please try to restrict your conversations to the course content, Wilfred.” 

“Yes, Professor.” Nikolai’s smirk remained, completely unbothered. 

Lilia gripped her quill tightly, trying to keep herself from snapping at him. Next to her, Nikolai turned and mouthed a slow, exaggerated, “Sorry.” And pouted . Like this was all some game. She shot him a deadly glare. He only smirked wider.

From his seat, Tom watched it all. Watched her react. Watched her blush. Watched this stranger steal her attention. 

His fingers curled into a fist. He should not care. 

But she had been his first. Not his to own. But his to know first.

And yet, she looked at Nikolai now. Even if it was brief. Even if it was hesitant. It was still enough.

Something ugly stirred in his chest.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

By a strange turn of events, Lilia became Nikolai’s first friend at Hogwarts. 

He stuck to her side as they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, despite her very obvious irritation with him for getting her in trouble with Slughorn.

“Come on, pretty girl. I said sorry,” Nikolai tried again, nudging her playfully as he walked beside her. 

“First of all, I try to keep my record spotless because I need my grades to be perfect. Second of all, stop calling me that,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Nikolai grinned, utterly unbothered. “Okay, never mess with your grades. Point noted. As for your other point, I’m just stating a fact, Lilia. Your name is as pretty as you are.”

The audacity. Lilia’s heart stuttered slightly, but she ignored the feeling, instead narrowing her eyes at him. There was something about the way he spoke that reminded her of Theo, not just the teasing, but the effortless charm, the smoothness of his words. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Nikolai noticed her thoughtful silence and cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, alright, I’ll just call you Lilia.” He smiled at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the amused smile from curling her lips. “That’s better, thanks.” 

“There’s that beautiful smile,” he said, and she felt warmth creep up her neck. She wasn’t used to random compliments being thrown her way so freely. 

Lilia quickly turned her attention toward the Slytherin table, spotting Celeste and Icarus already seated. They both smiled at her, but the moment quickly shifted. Their expressions fell, and Lilia followed their gaze, stomach twisting with unease.

She barely had time to brace herself before she saw Tom and Abraxas walking into the hall behind her. Tom didn’t so much as glance at her, his expression eerily blank, and Abraxas… Abraxas was glaring at her with a kind of sharp, cold fury that made her feel like she had been hexed. 

Her heart plummeted. Tom had never looked at her like that before. No, he wasn’t even looking at her at all. He was pretending she didn’t exist.

Lilia wanted to let him know that she had cherished every moment they had shared, the soft touches, the kisses, the whispered conversations that felt like they belonged to another lifetime. She wanted him to know that it had meant something to her. 

But she couldn’t allow herself to betray the people who had died for the cause she had once fought for. She couldn’t fall for Tom Riddle.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much she longed for the version of him she had come to know, the one who was quiet yet warm, sharp yet so unexpectedly gentle in ways he never even realized. She had ruined that for him. He would never be the same again.

The guilt sat heavy in her chest.

“Lover boy mad at you?” Nikolai asked, tilting his head slightly as he observed the way Lilia’s eyes kept trailing after Tom. There was tension at the Slytherin table, a crack in the usual cohesion of Tom’s group, and he had a feeling it had everything to do with the girl sitting next to him. 

“He’s not lover boy,” Lilia muttered, voice devoid of humor, her smile fading entirely.

Nikolai raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Instead, he pulled something out of his robe pocket. A small bottle of perfume. “See this?” 

Lilia glanced at the object in his hands and frowned. “What is it?” 

Nikolai smirked. “Watch.” Without hesitation, he stopped a random Gryffindor boy who had been on his way out of the hall. “Hey, kid, smell this for me.” The younger student hesitated, eyes flicking to the taller Slytherin warily before nodding. “Uh… o-okay,” he stammered.

Lilia barely had time to process what was happening before the Gryffindor sprayed the perfume on his wrist and inhaled. 

Within seconds, his face turned an alarming shade of green. His eyes bulged, and he slapped a hand over his mouth before bolting out of the hall, knocking over his goblet of pumpkin juice in the process. Nikolai was cackling like a maniac. 

Lilia stared at him in disbelief. “What was that?” She demanded, snatching the bottle from his hand.

“A little concoction of my own,” Nikolai admitted, completely unbothered. “That kid’s probably throwing up his lunch somewhere.” 

Lilia’s jaw dropped. “You are absolutely terrible.” 

“But it made you laugh, didn’t it?” He said smugly. 

Lilia opened her mouth to argue, but then she remembered the Gryffindor’s expression, the way he had nearly tripped over himself in his frantic rush to escape, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle threatening to escape. 

Merlin help her.

This was something Fred and George would have done.

She shook her head, giving him an exasperated look. “That’s just because it was so ridiculous.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Nikolai teased, shooting her a wink.

For the first time in a while, she allowed herself to smile. Really smile.

Meanwhile, across the hall, Tom was gripping his fork so tightly it threatened to snap in half.

The sound of her laughter was unmistakable, and no matter how hard he tried to block it out, it reached him all the same. It didn’t matter how quiet it was, how far away she sat. He would always recognize it. 

He knew every variation of her voice. Her laughter. Her whispers. Her cries. Her moans. 

He hated that.

He hated how he still held a soft spot for her even after everything.

Had everything been a lie? The nights she listened to him, the moments they shared, the quiet confessions and unspoken words? Had he been nothing more than a fool playing into her hands? 

He had allowed himself to be vulnerable with her, something he had never done before, and she had shattered that trust without a second thought.

Tom forced himself to focus on his plate, stabbing a roast potato with far more force than necessary. 

“Who’s that guy? I’ve never seen him before,” Icarus asked, cautiously glancing between Tom and Abraxas. 

“New transfer student from Ilvermorny. His name is Nikolai Wilfred,” Abraxas answered. His voice was tight with irritation, gaze fixed on the boy sitting across from Lilia.

Tom’s grip on his fork tightened. 

“He seems cheerful,” Icarus noted, though the moment he caught Tom’s glare, he quickly backtracked. “Uh- no, not really. Forget I said anything.” 

Tom didn’t respond, but the look on his face said enough. He didn’t like Nikolai.

More than that, he hated Lilia for sitting there, smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened. She had discarded him like he was nothing. He was merely returning the favor.

Lilia, unaware of the storm brewing within Tom, continued her conversation with Nikolai. “Tell me more about Ilvermorny,” she said, resting her chin on her palm as she listened.

Nikolai smirked. “As you wish, Your Highness.” 

He rubbed his hands together dramatically before clearing his throat. Lilia scoffed but indulged him, nodding for him to continue. He launched into an animated explanation about Ilvermorny’s location, its houses, and how he had been sorted into Horned Serpent. Lilia found herself genuinely fascinated.

For the first time all day, she wasn’t thinking about Tom.

She wasn’t thinking about the way his hands had felt on her skin, the way he had held her like she was something precious. She wasn’t thinking about the quiet moments in between, the ones where he wasn’t Tom Riddle, future Dark Lord, but simply a boy who whispered her name like it was a prayer.

But her brief moment of peace was short-lived. 

As she stepped into her Herbology tutorial, her mind still buzzing with the remnants of her conversation with Nikolai, Professor Beery approached her with a small bag in hand.

“I’m assuming these are yours and Riddle’s?” The grey-haired professor smiled warmly, unaware of the way Lilia’s entire body tensed at the name. Lilia hesitated before taking the bag. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have. With a deep breath, she peeked inside. 

Her heart stopped. 

The blanket. 

A sharp sting pricked behind her eyes as the breath she had just taken caught in her throat.

“Thank you, Professor,” she murmured, her voice nearly breaking. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep it steady. “I- I apologize for leaving it behind.” 

“No need to apologize, dear,” Professor Beery assured her gently. “Tom is a kind boy, you know.”

Lilia’s stomach twisted violently. 

Kind. He had been. 

To her, at least.

“He was quite nervous about the whole thing,” Beery continued, smiling fondly. 

Lilia felt as though the floor had been ripped out from beneath her. She gripped the bag tighter, the fabric of the blanket slipping between her fingers like sand. “What do you mean?” She forced herself to ask, barely recognizing her own voice.

The professor chuckled lightly, oblivious to the way Lilia’s world was unraveling. “He told me you liked plants and animals, and I suggested that fireflies perform their mating dance when it rains. He immediately said you loved fireflies and asked if he could use the greenhouse to watch them with you. Did you enjoy it?”

Lilia’s entire body went still. 

She had known Tom was the one who suggested that moment, but hearing it like this, from someone else, from someone who had seen his sincerity, made it unbearable. 

It wasn’t just a moment of opportunity for him. It wasn’t just a way to pass time. 

He had planned it. For her. Because he wanted to give her something beautiful.

And she had destroyed it all.

Her hands tightened around the bag until her knuckles turned white. She nodded stiffly, not trusting herself to speak. 

She had ruined everything. 

Every good thing between them. 

Every moment of trust. 

Every piece of himself that he had given her.

Could she ever fix it?

Chapter Text

Lilia spent most of her time with Nikolai, Septimus, Caspian, and Katarina, slipping into their group with surprising ease.

She needed a break from the suffocating tension in the Slytherin common room, so she often accompanied Nikolai to the Ravenclaw Tower. It felt almost like coming home. The familiar arched windows, the endless bookshelves, the soft glow of candlelight; it was a place of quiet intellect, of whispered debates and laughter.

At night, she would lean back on the couch, staring up at the enchanted ceiling, where stars blinked down at her like distant memories. The common room had not changed in all these years. It was one of the few things untouched by time. It comforted her to know that, even when everything else in her life had shifted, when she had crossed decades and lost people she could never get back, this place remained the same.

It had been almost a month since she had truly spoken to her old friends. The distance between them stretched wider with each passing day. She still made small talk when necessary, but the closeness was gone. Evangeline and Celeste still shared a dorm with her, still exchanged words before bed, but it wasn’t the same. They no longer confided in her the way they once had. There was an unspoken understanding that she had drawn the line first, and they had followed suit.

Lilia told herself it was for the best. She could only hope they had begun to think for themselves, that they had turned away from the beliefs that would one day burn the world to ash. But she would never know for sure. And that, more than anything, terrified her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Our finals are coming up soon,” Caspian sighed, snapping his DADA book shut in frustration.

Lilia barely looked up from her own parchment, diligently writing down notes on potion reactions. She had been studying harder than ever, determined to outdo Tom Riddle in the finals. It was the only thing keeping her sane. As long as she focused on her books, she didn’t have time to think about him. And by the time night fell, she was too exhausted to stay up, too drained to let her mind wander to thoughts she refused to acknowledge.

But the nightmares still found her. The visions were always the same. An empty world, the faces of those she had loved erased like ink smeared from a page. She would wake up gasping, the weight of solitude pressing against her chest like a leaden hand. And yet, as much as she longed for the warmth of the friendships she had built in this time, she knew it would never be the same. Not after what had happened.

“We still have well over a month for finals,” Septimus groaned, stretching lazily before flopping back onto the couch.

“Lilia and Caspian have already started studying,” Nikolai commented, spinning a pencil between his fingers. He passed it to Septimus, who took it without a second thought, only to yelp in pain as a sharp jolt ran up his hand.

“Nikolai, what the hell did you do to this?” Septimus glared, shaking his hand as though trying to rid it of lingering static. Nikolai grinned smugly. “Just a little dazzling touch of my own.”

Katarina and Lilia chuckled while Caspian shook his head, unimpressed.

Septimus, however, looked betrayed. “Lilia, there’s no way you actually find this funny,” he groaned.

Lilia giggled, not bothering to suppress her amusement. “Actually, I find these pranks very funny.”

Septimus huffed, crossing his arms. “You Slytherins are all the same. Bullies.”

“Am I a bully too?” Katarina asked, widening her eyes in mock innocence.

“You should have been a Slytherin,” Septimus grumbled. “How you got sorted into Ravenclaw is beyond me.”

Katarina gasped dramatically, clutching Caspian’s arm. “Caspian, did you hear that? Septimus is bullying me!”

Caspian sighed as though exhausted by their antics, but there was amusement in his sharp blue eyes. “I wouldn’t mind dating you even if you were a Slytherin.” 

That earned him a loud chorus of hollers from Septimus and Nikolai. Caspian, unfazed, simply smirked at Katarina and winked. Lilia watched the group with a soft smile, warmth blooming in her chest despite herself. Their easy banter, the teasing, the shared laughter, it reminded her so much of before .

Of Fred and George’s relentless pranks. Of Luna’s dreamy musings and Padma’s quick wit. Of teasing Theo and studying alongside Hermione. Of Harry and Ron and their exasperated but fond bickering.

Of how simple things had been before everything fell apart.

“Lilia, Nikolai,” Septimus suddenly said, standing up with a flourish. “There’s a party tonight in the Hufflepuff common room.”

Lilia’s brows shot up in surprise. “Hufflepuff? How do you even know about that?”

Septimus smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. “You Slytherins and Gryffindors think you run Hogwarts, but nothing beats a Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw party.”

Nikolai turned to Lilia for confirmation. “Slytherins don’t really do parties, right?”

“Not that I know of,” she admitted.

“So, do you want to come?” Katarina asked, looking between them expectantly.

Lilia hesitated, glancing at Nikolai, but he simply grinned. “Consider it done.”

She took a deep breath before nodding. “Okay.”

The three others cheered, and Lilia tried to ignore the slight unease creeping into her chest. It would be a nice change of pace. And if she was spending her Friday night at a party, that meant less time spent thinking about Tom Riddle.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Later that afternoon, Lilia and Caspian ventured towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest to feed some of the creatures. The cool air wrapped around them like a faint whisper, something just out of reach. Lilia wasn’t as regular as she should have been, and the guilt gnawed at her the moment they reached the burrows.

A familiar niffler scurried out, but instead of its usual enthusiasm, it glared at her, if such a thing was possible for a creature so small. It ignored the shiny coins she held out, turning its tiny nose up in what could only be described as indignation.

“I’m sorry, little guy,” she murmured, crouching down and extending her hand.

The niffler huffed . Actually huffed .

Caspian laughed under his breath while he searched for a bowtruckle, but Lilia remained focused. It took coaxing, patience, and quite a few extra coins, but eventually, the niffler relented. It snatched the shiny offering and scurried back into its burrow, leaving Lilia with a strange sense of relief.

She had no control over the way things had spiraled out of control with Tom. But here, in the quiet of the forest, she was feeding creatures that didn’t expect anything from her except food and kindness. This, at least, was something she could still fix.

When they finished in the Forbidden Forest, Lilia met Nikolai in the Great Hall, where Katarina joined them at the Slytherin table for dinner. The usual low hum of conversation surrounded them, but Lilia barely paid attention as she picked at her food, still lost in her thoughts.

“How should we dress for the party?” Nikolai asked between slurps of his soup, managing to make a mess all over the table in the process. Lilia sighed, already used to his antics, and instinctively reached for a napkin to clean up after him. It was second nature, cleaning up messes, fixing things, making sure everything looked like nothing had ever happened. Katarina caught the gesture, her eyes narrowing slightly as she raised an inquisitive brow at Lilia.

But before she could ask anything, Nikolai continued eating, entirely unbothered.

“The sluttiest you can,” Katarina answered instead, a smirk playing on her lips. Lilia nearly choked on her pumpkin juice, her jaw dropping as she turned to gape at the Ravenclaw girl. Nikolai, on the other hand, simply nodded with enthusiasm, as if this were perfectly normal advice.

“Just what I needed,” he said, grinning wickedly.

“Consider it done,” Lilia slowly smirked, shaking her head but feeling a flicker of something lighter settle in her chest. It had been a long time since she had let herself enjoy things like this. 

Back in her dorm, Lilia quickly changed, grateful for the empty room; Celeste and Evangeline were off dueling with the boys. She pulled out the pair of pants she had worn when she first arrived in this time and transfigured them into a black mini skirt that clung to her curves. Another shirt became a sleeveless, deep green top with thick straps, the fabric shimmering with sequins as it settled against her skin. The plunging V-neckline exposed just enough to make her hesitate for a moment, but she quickly shook off the thought.

Her gaze flickered to the mirror, and her stomach twisted when she saw the scars her uniform usually concealed. Pale, jagged reminders of everything she had endured, of everything she tried so hard to keep buried. Her fingers hovered over them for a fraction of a second before she muttered the concealment charm. The scars faded, her skin smoothing out before her eyes, but the phantom ache of them remained.

Lilia quickly slipped into black heels, opting for simplicity with her makeup. Just mascara to make her eyes pop, a touch of blush to bring life to her cheeks, and some pink lipstick to finish the look. She rubbed body oil onto her arms, letting it sink in, the subtle shimmer catching in the candlelight. Her hair fell naturally around her shoulders, soft and effortless.

As she turned to leave, her eyes landed on the small pile of fabric resting at the edge of her bed.

The blanket.

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t given Tom the bag that Professor Beery had handed her. She had cleaned the blanket and pillows, but instead of returning them, she had kept them.

Pathetic , she thought bitterly.

It didn’t even smell like him anymore, yet every night, she curled up beneath it, pretending.

Pretending his touch still lingered.

Pretending that for one moment, she could undo the mess she had made.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the fabric before she turned sharply on her heel, wrapping her robe around herself and heading to the common room before she could spiral any further.

Nikolai was already waiting for her, leaning against the cold stone wall, his own robe slung lazily over his shoulders. His eyes flickered with mischief when he saw her, but for once, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he offered her his arm, and together, they made their way to the Ravenclaw common room.

When they arrived, Septimus, Caspian, and Katarina were already waiting, dressed to the nines and looking entirely too pleased with themselves.

The moment they stepped into the common room, the scent of alcohol hit Lilia's nostrils. The air was thick with it, mingling with the sound of laughter, low conversations, and the rhythmic beat of music playing somewhere in the background. She had forgotten how different the atmosphere was at these parties, how it buzzed with a reckless kind of energy that both thrilled and unsettled her.

“I hope you guys ate well because we are starting off strong tonight ,” Septimus announced with a wicked grin, handing Lilia and Nikolai two glasses filled with a clear liquid. Lilia raised an eyebrow before sniffing it.

Gin .

She hesitated for half a second before throwing the drink back in one swift gulp. The burn seared down her throat, making her wince as she coughed, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t count how many glasses she had after that.

She was a lightweight when it came to drinking, something that had never changed, despite all the times she had shared drinks with Theo and Draco. She remembered those nights well. She remembered how easy it had been back then, how Theo would tease her for being a lightweight, how Draco would smirk and shake his head as he poured her another glass anyway.

But those nights were long gone.

And tonight, she needed to forget.

Lilia followed her friends, weaving through the corridors of Hogwarts with the other Ravenclaws as they made their way to the Hufflepuff common room. She swayed slightly with Katarina, their movements syncing with the rhythm of the off-tune song Septimus and Nikolai were singing loudly and terribly. Lilia had no idea what song it was, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in weeks, she felt light, as though the weight of her choices, of Tom, of the past and the future, had finally loosened its grip.

They had to stay quiet as they neared the Great Hall, moving past the kitchen entrance where the Hufflepuff common room was hidden. A few sharp knocks later, the door swung open to reveal Owen Whitby, his familiar, easygoing grin in place. “Come in!” He called, ushering them inside.

The moment Lilia stepped in, her jaw nearly dropped.

The Hufflepuff common room was beautiful. Unlike the dark, imposing elegance of Slytherin’s underground dorms or the airy, celestial ambiance of Ravenclaw Tower, Hufflepuff’s common room was warm, golden, and inviting. The walls were painted in shades of yellow and deep brown, with vines and hanging plants draping over balconies. Soft candlelight flickered in the dimmed room, casting a glow over the crowd of students. The furniture had been pushed aside to make room for a dance floor, where students were already moving to the funky jazz beats playing in the background.

“Coats go here!” Someone shouted, pointing toward a wooden rack filled with discarded robes. Lilia slipped hers off and felt the shift immediately. A hush fell over the students closest to her, their eyes sweeping over her outfit with blatant curiosity. She didn’t care. She might have been in the forties but honestly, a small part of her didn't want to blend in right now.

T he room was warm, and the heat from the number of bodies pressed together made it even hotter.

“Lilia, you look so fucking hot!” Katarina shrieked over the music, grabbing her hand and spinning her in place.

Lilia laughed, the sound bubbling out of her before she could stop it. “You look incredible yourself!” Lilia shouted back, admiring the way Katarina’s black mini dress glowed under the lights, shimmering with every movement. They clung to each other’s hands, already swaying to the beat.

“No one complimented me,” Nikolai whined dramatically, flexing his arms at Septimus and Caspian. He was clad in just a white tank top and pants, looking utterly unbothered.

“You look good, brother,” Septimus said with a grin, slapping him on the back.

“Damn right I do,” Nikolai muttered, flipping his hair before joining the other boys in grabbing drinks.

Lilia barely had time to adjust before she felt a pair of hands slide around her waist. She gasped lightly, her body tensing. The hands were not rough, but neither were they exactly welcome. Katarina misunderstood her facial expression and smirked at her before stepping away, leaving her to whirl around and meet the face of Owen Whitby. A fellow Herbology classmate. They talked occasionally, but she had never been this close to him.

His boyish grin was lazy, his dark blond hair tousled like he’d already had too much to drink. His grip on her waist was firm, his thumbs pressing lightly into the exposed skin of her hips.

“Hi, Owen,” she greeted, hands dangling awkwardly at her sides.

“Hey, Lilia,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. She caught the scent of firewhisky lingering on his breath. “You look so hot right now.”

Of course, she did. It wasn’t common to see a woman dressed like this during this time period. At least, not at a school party. That alone made the moment amusing.

“Thanks,” she said, tilting her head slightly, a small, hesitant smile tugging at her lips. “Where can I get some firewhisky?”

Owen’s lips curled into a smirk. “Right here.” He handed her a glass filled with amber liquid, and Lilia downed it in one go. The burn scorched her throat, leaving a lingering warmth in her stomach.

“Whoa, slow down there,” Owen chuckled, his voice raspy and slightly slurred. “We don’t have an endless supply.”

Lilia giggled, already feeling the pleasant haze of intoxication creeping in. More drinks followed. Shots, stolen sips of firewhisky, until the world around her blurred into pulsing lights and swaying bodies. Music pulsed through her, her limbs fluid as she danced, losing herself in the movement. Owen kept close, his hands never straying far from her waist, and at one point, he handed her a joint.

The first drag burned, and her eyes watered slightly, but the second was smoother.

Then, it hit her.

A slow, creeping sensation, like her body was floating but her thoughts were sinking. Time blurred, faces became indistinct, and the warmth in her veins turned into something more dangerous. The music was distant. The voices around her were muffled. And suddenly, everything felt wrong.

Owen’s hands slid lower. His fingers pressed into her hips, pulling her closer. Lilia blinked slowly, her mind hazy. She should stop him. She should move.

But all she could think about was Tom.

Tom’s hands on her body.

Tom’s warmth.

Tom’s lips against hers, burning, consuming, real.

A strangled sound left her throat, something between a whimper and a protest, but Owen took it as encouragement. He leaned in, his lips brushing her jaw.

No.

Panic spiked through her veins, sudden and sharp. She pushed at his chest, but it was weak, uncoordinated. Her limbs were heavy, her body unreliable. Owen’s grip tightened. Then, just as abruptly as it began, he was gone. Lilia stumbled slightly, her dazed mind taking a second to catch up before she realized she was being pulled away. By Nikolai.

“What the fuck, mate?” Owen snapped, frowning at the other boy.

Nikolai only grinned, the expression too sharp, too knowing. “Not today, mate. Sorry.”

Owen scoffed but didn’t argue. The party was too wild for a confrontation. Lilia barely registered their exchange before Nikolai turned to her, keeping a steady grip on her arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, her voice slurring slightly.

“You’re welcome, Lilia.” Nikolai sighed, handing her a glass of water. “You really shouldn’t get high while drinking, you know.”

Lilia chugged the water like it was a lifeline. “As long as it doesn’t kill me, I’m fine,” she muttered, then added under her breath, “Even if it does, it doesn’t matter anyway.” Wasn't she already dead, technically?

Nikolai stilled. His expression was unreadable as he studied her face, but he said nothing.

They stood at the edge of the room, watching the party unfold. The heat had intensified, bodies pressed together in frenzied motion, drinks spilling, voices rising in drunken laughter. Lilia’s eyes tracked Septimus disappearing upstairs with Penelope. Good for him. She caught sight of Caspian and Katarina, practically wrapped around each other. Good for them.

Nikolai exhaled sharply, shaking his head at the chaotic scene before turning back to speak to her. Only to find that Lilia was gone. He frowned, scanning the room before spotting her a few feet away. Bent over. Talking to a plant. Nikolai huffed a laugh. Of course. With a small shake of his head, he made his way toward her.

Lilia was crouched down, tilting her head as she mumbled something to the plant, completely oblivious to the way her skirt had ridden up, exposing more skin than was socially acceptable. The dim candlelight reflected off the body oil she had rubbed onto her skin earlier, making her glow. Nikolai was no stranger to beautiful women. He had met plenty back in Ilvermorny, but Lilia Rousseau was different.

She was reckless, distant, complicated, troubled. And for some inexplicable reason, he found her fascinating.

“Sun, sun, sun, here it comes.” Lilia’s voice was soft, almost dreamy as she hummed the melody to the swaying daffodils. She tilted her head, mimicking the gentle sway of their golden petals, her fingers grazing the rim of the pot as if the flowers themselves could hear her.

It was comforting , the way flowers were as timeless as the stars. They bloomed in every era, untouched by wars, unburdened by grief. And in that moment, surrounded by their golden glow, Lilia almost felt weightless. Daffodils meant spring. Spring meant change. It also meant summer was coming. And summer meant… Lilia pushed the thought away. She wasn’t ready to think about that yet.

Instead, she focused on the soft rustling of petals, the way the flowers seemed to dance along with her, or perhaps, she with them.

“Alright, Lilia. I think it’s time for you to head back and get some sleep. You’ve officially lost it,” Nikolai’s dry voice cut through her trance.

“Not at all,” she protested with a slight pout. “Look, they like the song. See how happy they are?” As if to prove her point, the daffodils continued swaying.

Nikolai folded his arms, incredulous. “You’ve already befriended the flowers?”

“Yes!”

“Why are you in Slytherin again?”

Lilia shrugged dramatically. “No idea!”

Nikolai let out a long, suffering sigh. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly one in the morning. The party had started dying down, students stumbling out of the Hufflepuff common room in pairs or groups, some barely able to walk straight. It was past time to leave.

“Lilia,” he said, tapping her shoulder. She turned to him, still wearing that dreamy, faraway smile, and Nikolai nearly choked.

Fuck .

In the dim lighting, he noticed everything. The way her shoulders were bare. The way the low neckline of her top exposed entirely too much. The way her skirt barely counted as a skirt at all.

Fucking hell.

He forced his gaze upward, rubbing his temples. “We should go. It’s late.”

“But I want to talk to the flowers,” Lilia whined.

Nikolai rolled his eyes. “Ask Owen about that in the morning.”

Lilia sighed, crossing her arms. Then, as if deciding something, she unhooked the entire pot of daffodils and hugged it to her chest.

“Lilia,” Nikolai stared. “What are you doing?”

“Taking them with me.” She tilted her head and whispered, “Would you like that, my darlings?” And to his absolute fucking disbelief, the flowers nodded.

Nikolai dragged a hand down his face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He barely had a second to react before Lilia, drunk, high, and completely unbothered, reached for her robe from the rack nearby and tucked the entire pot underneath. She looked up at him proudly. “Alright! I’m ready.”

She claimed she was being sneaky. She was not.

From Nikolai’s perspective, she just looked pregnant. “Lilia, you-”

“Shhh,” she hushed him dramatically, lifting a single finger to her lips.

Nikolai let out the longest sigh of his life. He didn’t even bother arguing anymore.

She carried her heels in one hand, the stolen flowers in the other, and they set off.

Avoiding prefects should have been easy. If it was not because Lilia kept stopping to sing to the fucking flowers. At every. Bloody. Turn. By the time they reached the Slytherin dungeon corridors, Nikolai was one sigh away from collapsing. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t drink and smoke at the same time. Are you always like this at parties? A bloody mess!”

“Here comes the sun,” Lilia ignored him entirely, swaying gracefully with the flowers still tucked under her robes. “And I say, it’s all right.”

“It is very much not all right.”

She giggled. He groaned. When they reached the entrance of the common room, she leaned in close to the door and whispered the password, as though it were some highly classified secret.

The doors swung open, and Lilia practically twirled inside, still humming as she removed the flowers from beneath her robes and hugged them to her chest.

“Lilia,” Nikolai deadpanned. “You are singing. And talking. To flowers.”

“They love it!”

He glared at the yellow blossoms. “Stop agreeing with everything she says.” The flowers recoiled. And then, to his absolute horror, they started screaming at him. Nikolai stared. Lilia beamed. “Oh, they hate you now. That’s right, my darlings, keep screaming at him. How dare he tell me to stop singing when you all clearly love it?”

He opened his mouth. Then promptly shut it. And then, he laughed. Loudly. Because this entire night was fucking ridiculous. “You are going to regret all of this in the morning.”

“Nope!”

“You absolutely will.”

“I’m going to keep them by my windowsill and sing to them every day.”

“Of course you are.”

“Goodnight, Nikolai!”

He sighed, knowing there was no winning this. “See you at breakfast, Lilia.”

And with that, they parted ways.

Lilia hummed softly as she wandered down the corridor leading to her room. Her steps were unsteady. The warmth of the alcohol and whatever was in that joint still lingered in her system, making everything slightly too slow. Her heel caught on the hem of her robe. She tripped.

Gasping, she clutched the pot of daffodils to her chest, bracing for the impact of cold stone. It never came.

A firm grip caught her arm, steadying her before she could fall. The flowers immediately retreated into their pods, sensing the shift in the air.

Lilia froze. She knew that grip, that touch, the warmth of his fingers before she even turned her head. Her heart plummeted. She looked up and met Tom’s eyes. Cold. Impassive. There was nothing in them. No softness. No warmth. Just an emptiness that she could not get used to.

Lilia felt the haze of intoxication shatter. She was suddenly acutely aware of herself. The way her robe had shifted, revealing the scandalous excuse of a top barely covering her chest. The way her skirt had ridden up, leaving next to nothing to the imagination. The way she stood barefoot, drunk, and high in front of him.

Tom didn’t let go. But he also didn’t look away.

And Merlin help her, Lilia couldn’t stop staring at him either.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth. 

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Tom let go of Lilia, watching as she stumbled back onto her feet, struggling to steady herself. He hadn’t missed the way her eyes had flickered to his lips, the way her breath hitched, so subtle, so involuntary but it was enough. He had to root himself, had to shove down the surge of heat and resentment rising in his chest.

Then she bent down to pick up her heels, and Tom’s patience snapped another thread thinner.

Her breasts barely hung onto her top, the fabric slipping just enough to leave little to the imagination. His jaw tensed. She had gone out looking like this. With Nikolai. The very thought made his grip tighten at his sides. She had waltzed out of the common room, into a party, into the arms of other people, dressed like that. Dressed for attention.

And the worst part? He had heard her giggling like a fool when she came back. Singing. Talking to flowers. A drunken, absentminded mess. And still, there was something so innocent about it. He hated that. Hated that he had stood there, watching her hum and sway in the dim light like she was the softest thing to ever exist. How could this girl be the same person who had lied to him? How could she be so sickeningly sweet yet so cruel all at once?

"Sorry," Lilia mumbled, her voice small. She took a step back and knocked into a vase, sending it crashing onto the floor. She flinched at the sound, fumbling, clearly debating whether to clean it up herself or just run. She couldn’t even stand properly, and yet she had the gall to walk around dressed like that.

Tom let out a sharp breath through his nose. A flick of his wrist, a murmured spell, and the vase repaired itself, the flowers snapping back into place as if nothing had happened.

"Thank you," Lilia whispered, cheeks burning with embarrassment. She stared at the floor, her fingers clenching around the potted flowers she still held.

"Give me the flowers," Tom said, exasperation laced in his voice. She was struggling to hold onto them properly. She had stumbled through the halls, practically hugging them to her chest like a child, and he could see she was on the verge of dropping them entirely. And that damned Nikolai hadn’t even bothered to help her.

Pathetic.

"It’s fine," she said quickly, shaking her head. "Rousseau, you will drop that pot and make another mess," he snapped, his patience fraying. "Just give it to me, and we’ll avoid all the trouble." She hesitated, then reluctantly handed it over, gaze flickering toward his hands before darting away again. Guilty. Embarrassed. Weak.

They walked in silence to her dorm. Lilia opened the door, relieved to see that Celeste and Evangeline were nowhere in sight. She stepped inside, and Tom followed. The realization sent a strange shiver down her spine. He had never been in her space before.

"You can keep it there," she murmured, nodding toward her desk. Tom placed the pot down, then took in his surroundings. This was her most intimate space. Her .

His brown eyes scanned the neatly arranged school books, charms, transfiguration, and some novels. Muggle. He noticed a small stuffed owl he had once seen in a store at Hogsmeade, the delicate little trinkets on her shelves. The bed, untouched and made, save for a blanket folded atop the covers.

He stiffened.

He knew that blanket. He had spent part of that night with her on it. His gaze flickered back to her, catching the way she shifted uncomfortably under his stare. "You kept the blanket," Tom said, voice unreadable. Lilia’s throat dried up. "Do you… do you want it back?" she asked hesitantly. "Do you want me to take it back?" His tone was sharp, daring. She shook her head.

Tom exhaled through his nose, running his tongue over his teeth. Infuriating. "What is the meaning of this?" He finally demanded, his voice low. Lilia’s breath hitched. "You said you couldn't stand me," Tom continued, stepping closer in a slow and purposeful manner. "You called what we did was a mistake." Another step. "And yet you keep my blanket." Another. "And you look absolutely miserable at the idea of me taking it away."

Lilia stepped back instinctively, her legs hitting the edge of the bed. "What does it mean?" Tom asked, his voice sharper now, colder. "You are so tiring to figure out, Rousseau." She said nothing. She could not say anything. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t really regret anything that happened between them. She had felt cherished, safe. She could be vulnerable with him and she knew he wouldn’t hurt her intentionally.

However, the ugly voice in the back of her mind reminded her that by doing so, she would be betraying whatever her loved ones had fought and died for. How could she seek comfort in the arms of the one person who would single handedly ruin her life in the future? Tom was not that person yet and Lilia believed in him for now. Yet, she could not even begin to imagine the look on Harry’s face if he were to find out that his own sister was in Voldemort’s arms.

Tom’s jaw clenched while watching Lilia. He saw the way her eyes looked down at his clothes instead of him, the way she could not even meet his eyes. She would rather avoid him altogether than tell him the truth. He felt the sharp cut of rejection in his chest, making him breathless for a brief moment. Lilia was rejecting him once again and Salazar help him, he could not bear the pain again.

“I’m done,” he murmured and stepped back, straightening his robes. Her eyes widened in panic and she did not think it through as she spoke out again. “No, don’t! I-” She paused, watching as his eyes met hers again. She could see the conflict in his beautiful brown eyes, could see the doubt that she had placed. It broke her heart to see someone usually so confident reduced to this. 

Lilia swayed slightly as she took a few steps towards him. His face tightened and he reached out to hold onto her arm firmly. “You’re drunk.” His words were a statement and a flush of embarrassment tinted her cheeks. She shook her head. “I’m not-” “You reek of it, Rousseau.” His voice was disapproving and she felt herself growing smaller under his stare.

She stumbled back into the Slytherin dungeons drunk with a pot of daffodils that she stole from Hufflepuff. She was a mess.

“I… I’ll go to bed. Thank you for bringing the flowers in here,” she murmured, looking down at the floor again. He briefly glanced back at the pot, noting how the flowers were slowly coming out of their pods, seemingly watching the two of them. “Where did you get these?” He asked, voice tinged with more softness now. “There was a party in Hufflepuff and I got along with these flowers. So I brought them here.” Despite the heaviness in the air, a small smile tugged at her lips as she finally looked up. 

Tom’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the faint dimples in her cheeks as she smiled. She was flushed and her hair was dishevelled, but Lilia Rousseau had always been a sight to behold in his eyes. “Is that why you were singing to them?” He asked, chest tightening again. “You heard that? Oh Merlin,” she groaned softly. His lips quirked up in a small smirk, though it lacked its usual smugness.

There was a moment of silence between them as they both looked at each other, the air heavy with unspoken words. Tom broke the silence first. “You need to sleep.” She nodded, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. “I know. I… I’ll sleep.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Let me help you change.” Her heart stuttered at his words. Her mind was screaming at her to stay away and avoid him. But her heart was in a whole different place.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered.

“I want to.”

How could such simple words make her feel like she was at the centre of his whole world? She nodded. “Okay. But I can still do things by myself, you know.” He did know, but he just wanted to be in her proximity again. He silently rummaged through her wardrobe and he looked for one of her nightgowns. Lilia clearly organised her clothes by occasion. Her uniforms were stacked together, skirts were in a separate pile, turtlenecks in another, and nightgowns in a separate one. His cheeks reddened slightly when he saw her undergarments tucked away in a corner. 

Clearing his throat, he pulled out a pretty beige nightgown with a laced V-neckline. Lilia watched him with lips slightly parted in surprise. Riddle’s movements and actions always seemed so meticulous and well-calculated. Even now, in completely unknown territory, he knew how to command control back to him. And fuck, if it wasn’t an intoxicating feeling to let him be in control. 

None of them spoke as he slowly removed her clothes. She should have stopped him, but she could not. As his fingers brushed against her skin while he undressed her, she remembered the way he had been almost reverent with how he made love to her on Valentine’s. 

Tom’s eyes never left her face while he helped her into the nightgown. If he had not known any better, he thought that she might have burst out in tears at any moment. His heart ached at the realisation. Why was she letting him touch her if she hated him? Why was it always so murky with her? He folded her clothes and placed them in a neat pile on her desk. 

Lilia’s throat was tight as she watched the movement. Her breathing hitched when his hand then found her cheek, cupping so tenderly it made her want to wrap her arms around him and never let go. Tom tilted her head up, observing the emotions fighting in her eyes. There was something that alarmingly resembled longing and his breath caught. 

“Why was it a mistake, Lilia?” He asked, voice so soft and tinged in vulnerability that her heart ached. Her shoulders felt heavier than ever with the weight of all the secrets that she was carrying. She wanted to tell him more than anything, but she could not. And that was draining the life out of her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, unable to look away.

In the dim light of her bedroom, his sharp angles were more pronounced and he looked so much more beautiful than what she remembered. Her fingers trembled when she brought her hand up to caress his face, brushing over his cheekbone with a tenderness she felt in her bones. “I’m so sorry, Tom.”

His heart broke yet again when she repeated those words. His jaw clenched as he forced himself not to shatter all over again. “Why aren’t you pushing me away?” He murmured, leaning in until their breaths mingled. She couldn’t do it. Her eyes fluttered shut when he tilted his head, lips pressing to her neck. He sucked gently, making her gasp quietly. He then soothed the sensitive skin with his tongue before pulling away.

“Go to sleep, Lilia.” She did not even question his words as she nodded wordlessly. He stepped to the side and pushed her blanket aside, watching the folded blanket from their time in the greenhouse resting innocently on her bed with an ache he could not even put in words.

Lilia got under the covers and lay down while he sat beside her, tugging the blanket up to her chin. Against any rational thought, his fingers reached out to caress her hair- gently, tenderly. He remembered how her nights were often plagued with nightmares, and he decided to stay by her side until she fell asleep.

Tom was right there, mere inches away, and yet Lilia had never felt the distance between them so strongly. The ache in her chest was heavy and hollow all at once. He was close… but slipping through her fingers. And it was all her doing.

Eventually, her thoughts drifted toward the softer moments- his touch, his voice, the way he looked at her like she was his entire world. She fell asleep to those memories, because even if his heart was far away now, her body still believed she was safe with him.

After watching her face relax while her breathing evened out, Tom’s hand fell to her cheek in a soft caress. Why was it a mistake to be with him? He did not have the answer. She had said that he was arrogant, insufferable, selfish. So why was it so easy for her to let him in so close and fall asleep with him?

Tom had no way of knowing when Lilia was so intent on pushing him away. With a heavy heart, he left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Chapter Text

Tears spilled down Lilia’s face as she woke up a few hours later. 

Tom’s presence had filled the space around her, and now it felt unbearably empty. She had thought, no- hoped , that he would stay. But he had walked away, leaving nothing but the ghost of his touch and the weight of everything left unsaid.

And she couldn’t even blame him for it.

Her breath hitched, and she curled up on her bed, clutching the blanket, the one Professor Beery had given her as if it could somehow hold the warmth Tom had taken with him. The pain was suffocating, but the betrayal she felt towards herself was even worse.

She had brought this upon herself. 

From the very beginning, she had known she needed to keep her distance from Tom Riddle, yet she had failed spectacularly. Instead of building walls, she had let him in, piece by piece, until there was no distance left at all. 

She had allowed herself to see him as more than what he would become, to believe in this version of him, to crave his presence in a way that felt almost instinctual.

And then she had ruined it.

She had shattered that fragile connection when she called their first night together a mistake. And now? She had lost everything. Tom. Her friends. Whatever small solace she had carved out in this timeline.

A quiet, anguished sob tore from her throat, muffled by the thick fabric of the blanket. She was a fool. A foolish girl who had let herself get tangled in something far more complicated than she could ever hope to understand.

The room felt unbearably cold, but she barely noticed it. She didn’t notice the yellow daffodils on her desk wilting with her grief, their petals drooping as if mourning alongside her. She didn’t notice how the hours passed, lost in the endless cycle of crying until her body trembled from exhaustion.

When she finally sat up, the weight of the night clung to her bones.

Dragging herself to the bathroom, she turned on the tap, letting steaming water fill the bathtub. As she caught her reflection in the mirror, her breath hitched. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her lips swollen from the way she had bitten down on them to keep herself from breaking apart. And there, on her skin, faint traces of his touch. Not in bruises, but in the phantom sensation of his fingers as he had cupped her face, the way he had tilted her head, so close she could still feel the warmth of his breath.

The ghost of him was everywhere. 

It hadn’t been fair of her to say she disliked him. It hadn’t been fair to call everything between them a mistake. But no one would ever understand her reasons. She had tried to convince herself that she couldn’t betray her loved ones. And yet, she already had. It was too late now. 

Tom Riddle had seeped into her bones in a way she hadn't meant to let happen.

And he had made his choice.

He had left her.

She sank into the water, releasing a quiet sigh as the heat seeped into her muscles, easing the tension in her body but doing nothing to soothe the turmoil inside her mind.

Being forced back in time had been a cruel twist of fate. 

She was never meant to get attached, never meant to involve herself with these people, never meant to fall for him. But she had, and now she was drowning in the consequences.

She needed to leave.

She had to find a way back, a time-turner, anything, to return to her own time and save Harry’s life. 

The thought sent a fresh pang of anguish through her chest. She had felt so betrayed when she discovered that Dumbledore had known all along that Harry would have to die, that he was a Horcrux. 

She and Hermione had theorized that a Killing Curse might only eliminate one soul, not both. But there had been no guarantee, no way to know whether it would be Voldemort’s soul that perished or Harry’s. Lilia hadn’t wanted to take that risk. But Harry had.

And he had died for it.

A wave of despair washed over her as she realized she would have to find another way. Another plan. Another impossible solution to a task she had already failed once before.

Numbly, she stepped out of the bath, dried herself off, and slipped into warm clothes. By the time she returned to her bed, the first rays of sunlight had already crept through her window, casting faint beams of light against the murky glass underneath the Great Lake.

It was nearly six in the morning. She had lost track of time between her grief and exhaustion. Straightening her spine, she took a slow breath before pulling on her robe. There was no point in wallowing. 

If she wanted to fix things, she needed to act.

Without a second thought, she left the room and headed toward the library. She would continue her research on time-turners. And then, maybe, she would have breakfast if she could stomach it.

But even as she walked away, her heart remained in that room, broken and aching, still tethered to the man who meant more than she could ever have imagined…

The library wasn’t open yet, but Lilia knew how to break the wards that protected it. She had figured it out in her first few years at Hogwarts, back when she had been desperate to sneak inside and read about advanced potions that were not exactly curriculum approved. The knowledge had come in handy then, and it did now. 

With a quiet flick of her wand, the wards gave way, and she slipped inside, the dim aisles stretching before her like a maze.

Lifting her wand, she let its soft glow guide her through the shelves. She moved with purpose, heading straight for the section on time-turners. Her fingers skimmed over the spines of the old books until she found the one she trusted most.  

Time-Turners: A Comprehensive History and Research Summary. 

The very same book she had relied on as a Ravenclaw, though this was only its first edition. She turned it over in her hands, marveling at how it felt like holding a piece of history itself.

She dropped to the floor, flipping through the pages, scanning each line for something, anything, that might help her find a time-turner on her own. But as always, there was nothing useful. The same words blurred before her eyes until her head began to ache. Frustration mounted inside her, and she let out a sharp breath, tossing the book down and pressing her fingers to her temples in an attempt to ease the pounding behind her skull. She groaned, exasperated, and pulled the book open again at random.

A footnote caught her eye.

"Special permission can be granted by the Ministry if professors from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry require a time-turner for educational purposes."

She felt a flicker of hope then. Of course-

But then, she remembered.

It was highly unlikely that a time-turner would provide a solution to her mental anguish. Even in her time, these devices had not been well-developed and in 1944, she doubted that they would be able to send her ahead in time.

Lilia remained on the floor, mulling over what that meant for her.

All along, she had known that there was no going back. And as much as it gutted her to think that way, a large part of her did not mind that. There was no appeal in going back to a time when her life had been in danger every single day. When she had to push aside her own feelings and concerns to prioritise the well-being of her brother and the Order.

She felt a wave of reproach towards the remaining Order members when she thought about how no one even tried to accompany her when she volunteered to retrieve the time-turner from the Department of Magical Mysteries the night she was killed. 

There had not been a single person who stopped her. The ones who would have, Harry and Remus, were both dead by that point.

Had her life really meant this little in the grand scheme of things? Did it hold no value when her brother died?

She tried to be understanding, she really did. The Order was still reeling from their losses and with Voldemort controlling the British wizarding scene, it was hard to strike back without risking more lives.

Ron had been the one to be the angriest at Lilia. She still remembered his reproaching words about how she had been close to two people who had become death eaters. Hermione had been busy with Ron, trying to calm him down and help him deal with his emotions. Ginny isolated herself after Harry’s death, preferring to mourn all alone.

Everyone else was still dealing with the loss of her brother, Remus, Fred…

She could understand that they all had something to deal with. It was not an easy time for any of them. This had been her first time seeing how meaningless their lives were for the people who simply did not care. For Voldemort and the death eaters.

It was her first time seeing death first-hand like that, with bodies dropping dead left and right during the Battle of Hogwarts. It was the case for all her friends too.

But understanding didn’t make the betrayal any easier to swallow.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, nails digging into the fabric of her clothes. She looked down at the book in front of her, the one that had held nothing but useless theories and dead ends. 

Her hand moved before her thoughts could catch up- she grabbed the book and hurled it across the ground. It hit the wall with a dull thud and landed open on the floor, pages bent and crumpled like broken wings.

“I was alone,” she whispered, voice trembling. 

The silence that followed was deafening. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath catching as rage surged through her like a second pulse.

Where were they? Ron, Hermione, Ginny? Where were they when she needed someone to stop her?

No one came with her that day. Not one of them even tried. They were all so caught up in their own pain, but did any of them stop to think, just once, what it was like to lose Harry and be expected to keep going? To throw herself back into war like her grief didn’t matter?

A quiet, broken laugh escaped her lips, bitter as ash. Not even a single goddamn question when she said she’d go to the Department of Mysteries. They just let her.

The heat in her chest pulsed painfully. She wasn’t even sure who she was angrier at- them, herself, or the boy who had held her so gently only hours ago and still ended up walking away.

She stood frozen, the fury shaking in her hands. And then, like a wave crashing down, the exhaustion came back. The ache. The emptiness.

Her shoulders sagged. The silence settled again.

Why did no one try to understand her? Why had no one stood up for her safety? Her well-being? While she remembered constantly going up to people to lend a shoulder when they needed it, she could not recall a single instance when someone had done the same for her.

She had to be thrown back in time for her to experience what it was like to have someone care about her, tell her that it was okay to cry, that her feelings mattered.

Slowly, she walked to the book, bent down, and picked it up with numb fingers. She didn’t brush the dust off. She didn’t straighten the pages. She just cradled it against her chest like something fragile.

She quietly tucked the book back on the shelf before heading out of the library.

Lilia moved through the castle like a ghost, each step echoing in her chest. When she reached Professor Dumbledore’s office, she knocked. The door opened silently.

“Come in, Rousseau.”

She stepped inside, arms folded tightly across her chest, still clutching onto the tattered sense of control she had left. The room was warm. 

Fawkes gave a low, mournful cry from his perch. It sounded too much like grief.

She paused. The phoenix was here. 

“Ah, I see you have taken note of Fawkes. He is my companion, a lovely Phoenix.” Dumbledore informed her, unaware that she already knew of the creature from the future. 

“Fawkes is beautiful,” she murmured, glancing toward the phoenix before looking at Dumbledore.

He sat behind his desk, not smiling, not twinkling, just watching her. Patient. Perceptive.

“You couldn’t sleep,” he said gently.

Lilia didn’t answer right away. She crossed to the armchair in front of him and sank down, as if her bones had given up holding her together. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m listening.”

She stared at a crack in the floorboards. “Do you ever wonder… if one life is worth more than another?”

Dumbledore didn’t flinch. “Often. And the answer never gets easier.”

She looked up. “How do you choose who to save in a war?”

He regarded her with quiet sorrow. “Sometimes, the choice is made for you. Other times… it’s a matter of consequences. One life, for the many.”

Her throat tightened. “Even if that one life is the only person you have left?”

Silence again. A soft wind rustled through the stacks of parchment behind him.

“I’ve had to make that choice before,” he said quietly. “And I still carry it with me.”

Lilia nodded slowly, as if the words confirmed something she already knew. She shifted, her hands trembling in her lap. “Grindelwald suspects one of my friends might be his downfall,” she said at last. “And he’s trying to find me. I think he wants answers. About time, maybe. Or about… Tom." Though the dark wizard didn't know it was Tom he needed to focus on.

Dumbledore didn’t react to the name, but his fingers curled slightly.

“You’ve already changed the course of things, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to touch anything. I just-”

“You cared,” he said.

Her jaw trembled.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Dumbledore added, more gently now. “Even when you try not to.”

She couldn’t hold his gaze.

“You think I’m being foolish,” she said. “Caring for someone who becomes-”

“I think love is never foolish,” he said softly. “But it is dangerous. Especially when the future is already written.”

Her eyes burned. “Then maybe I’ll rewrite it.”

He didn’t smile. Not this time. “What are you planning?”

She looked at the floor. “Nothing reckless.”

A beat passed.

“Everything reckless,” she amended. “But I can’t just sit here while Grindelwald hunts us. I’ll keep Tom safe. I’ll keep all of them safe.”

“Even if it costs you?”

Her voice cracked. “It already has.”

She didn’t say it aloud, but it was there, clear in the glint of her tired eyes: If she has to be the only one who suffers, that’s fine. That’s what she was here for. That’s what it had always been.

Dumbledore’s expression flickered with a mix of sadness, resignation, perhaps a touch of guilt. “You remind me of someone I once knew.”

She stood, her robe swaying gently behind her. “I’m sorry, Professor. I know this isn’t ideal. But I need to do this my way.”

“I know,” he said. “And I trust that you will.”

He rose slowly, retrieving a delicate porcelain cup. “At least have some tea before you go.”

She accepted it, her fingers brushing his. She took a slow sip. 

Lavender. Chamomile. Bittersweet.

“Did you eat?”

“Not yet.”

“Then eat,” he said kindly. “Have a nice, hearty meal. Spend time with your friends.”

She gave a wan smile- she didn’t even have the heart to tell him that she had had a fallout with all of her friends because of what she had done. “Thank you.”

He held the door open for her. “Come back when you’re ready.”

But the moment she stepped out of the office, her stomach twisted into knots. Because standing right there, waiting with Slughorn, was Tom. 

Tom’s gut twisted the moment he saw her.

She was avoiding his gaze. She looked exhausted: red-rimmed eyes, deep shadows beneath them, her face pale and drained of color- like she hadn’t slept. Like something had hollowed her out from the inside. 

And the worst part was, he didn’t know if it was because of him.

A part of him had wanted her to feel his absence, to reach for him the way he had been reaching for her in silence. But as she walked past him without a word, her steps slow, burdened, as if everything she carried had finally grown too heavy, Tom felt something tighten in his chest.

She looked fragile. And he hated it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Tom Riddle was going to be Head Boy in his seventh year. It was what he had worked toward, a position he had meticulously built himself up to as a prefect. He should have been pleased. 

Instead, he sat on his bed, a book open in his lap, barely absorbing a single word.

His mind kept drifting back to her.

To Lilia. To the way he left her.

She had looked so vulnerable yet peaceful when she fell asleep in front of him. Merlin knows he had wanted to get under the covers with her, tuck her in his arms and hold her while he fell asleep too.

But her words had looped in his head like a damnation. 

It was a mistake. 

Had she truly meant it? Had she really thought nothing of what they shared? He didn’t want to believe it. Because if it had meant nothing, why had she let herself be so vulnerable with him? Why had she let him see her walls lowered, let him see the pain in her eyes, the weight of her burdens, the scars that marked her body?

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. He had seen more of her than anyone else, more than even her closest friends. 

And then, instead of acknowledging it, acknowledging her , he had walked away. And she had looked hollow the next day.

Guilt curled in his gut, slow and insidious, tightening its grip with every passing moment. Had she truly meant it when she called their night together a mistake? Or was it something else, something she couldn’t admit?

“You alright, mate?” Tiernan’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts. 

Tom barely blinked, his expression unreadable. Tiernan sighed. He wished Abraxas were here. If anyone could get Tom to talk, it was him. But Abraxas was still in the shower, taking his usual long, luxurious time.

Tiernan had given Tom space, aware that something had happened between him and Lilia. But at this point, it was obvious both of them were miserable. Tom barely smiled anymore. Lilia barely spoke to them. 

And yet, she still cared.

Tiernan had seen it in the little things: how she continued leaving books for Tom in the library, books she knew would intrigue him. Dark potions, ancient spells, texts filled with knowledge only someone like Riddle would appreciate. She had practically begged him not to say anything. And every time Tiernan passed the books along, Tom, though visibly puzzled, always ended up reading them.

But she had stopped sitting with them in class. She had distanced herself completely. And Tom? He was worse for it. 

“Is something bothering you?” Tiernan asked again. 

Tom hesitated, his voice quieter than usual when he finally admitted, “I think I messed up with Lilia.” 

Tiernan raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Tom exhaled sharply, fingers curling around the edge of his book. “I left her. I just walked away.” 

Tiernan frowned. “That’s it?” 

Tom’s grip tightened. “She called it a mistake.” 

Silence stretched between them before Tiernan scoffed. “And did you ask her why?”

Tom’s jaw clenched. 

Tiernan sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Merlin’s sake, Riddle. You’re supposed to be the smartest one in this damn castle, and yet you can’t see what’s right in front of you?” 

Tom bristled- not because Tiernan was wrong, but because he hated how accurate it felt. Emotions weren’t supposed to disarm him like this. “Enlighten me, then.”

Tiernan folded his arms. “You think she didn’t want to be with you? You think she didn’t feel something? Because if that were the case, she wouldn’t still be looking out for you. She wouldn’t be leaving you those books. She wouldn’t care .”

Tom said nothing. He briefly glanced over at one book on binding spells that he had been reading through. Deep down, he had known she had a hand in the books Tiernan had been giving him. He just refused to acknowledge it.

“Did you ever consider that maybe she didn’t call it a mistake because of you? That maybe it was about something else?” 

Tom’s stomach twisted. Before he could respond, the door opened and Abraxas stepped in, his damp hair neatly combed back, silk pajamas pristine as always.

“What are you two whispering about?” 

Tiernan shot Tom a glance before smirking. “Tom finally admitted he’s an idiot.” 

Abraxas sighed. Even he could not deny that Tom was no longer his self when Lilia distanced herself and that was despite the complicated feelings he had towards the girl who had brought about too much change. 

“Oh, good. I was beginning to think we’d have to spell it out for him.” Tom scowled. Abraxas folded his arms. “So what exactly did you do?”

Tom recounted everything, the way she had looked at him that night, how he had walked away, the silence between them since then. Abraxas studied him for a long moment. “No wonder she looks like hell.” 

The words struck something sharp inside Tom’s chest. He already knew that. He had seen it. But hearing it from someone else only made it worse.

“She still watches you, you know,” Abraxas continued, his voice more thoughtful now. “She still pays attention to what you like, what you read. But she won’t go near you. You scared her off.”

Tom stiffened. “I didn’t-” 

“She let you in,” Tiernan cut in, leveling him with a look. “And you left. Whether you meant to hurt her or not, you did .” 

Something like frustration warred with the guilt inside him, but Tom stayed silent. 

“You might want to do something soon,” Abraxas added, “before Wilfred sweeps in and steals her from you.”

Tom froze.

Wilfred.

Something dark unfurled inside him, an unfamiliar sort of resentment curling at the thought of that boy being near her. The idea of her turning to someone else, someone lesser, someone who wasn’t him- No . 

That would not happen.

“Lilia might have been in denial when she said it was a mistake,” Abraxas mused, watching him carefully. Malfoy might have harboured feelings for his friend, but he was no fool. He was as perceptive as a fox. He could put two and two together about Tom and Lilia, despite his own heart. 

And he despised seeing his friend torn over someone like this.

Tom turned over their last conversation in his mind. “What reason is there for her to be in denial?” 

Abraxas sighed. “That’s up to you to figure out.” He crossed the room, giving Tom a firm pat on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, mate.”

Tiernan nodded in agreement. But Tom barely registered their words. His mind was already elsewhere.

Later that night, as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts refused to leave her.

The scars on her body, the weight in her voice, the way she had looked at him that night, so hesitant, so unsure, as if she had been afraid of what this meant. She had been through war. Through horrors he couldn’t even begin to understand. 

And he had left her.

For days, he had avoided her, convinced himself that space was necessary. That leaving her was the best course of action.

But it wasn’t. 

It had been cruel. And he had regretted it ever since. He had to fix this. He had to talk to her. 

Because there was more to Lilia Rousseau than he had ever allowed himself to see. 

And he needed to know all of it.

Chapter Text

The library buzzed with quiet urgency as finals loomed closer. With only a month left, upper-year students buried themselves in their notes, whispering frantic incantations and scrawling last-minute annotations in the margins of their textbooks. The common rooms were no different, filled with the hushed mutter of spells, the glow of candlelight, and the occasional sigh of exasperation.

Lilia sat near the restricted section, a place most students avoided unless they had a legitimate reason to be there. It suited her just fine. She didn't want to be near anyone, didn't want to be reminded that she might have to stay another year to finish her schooling, given the fact that there was not much she could do about her situation. The thought clawed at her, an ever-present weight in the back of her mind.

She had already altered the timeline. That much was clear. She didn’t know how much, didn’t know if it was irreversible, but the implications haunted her. Grindelwald knew now, knew that someone , sometime in the future, would be responsible for his downfall. And he was searching for that person, hunting for the answer that only she possessed.

If he found out it was Tom… Her stomach twisted violently. She could picture it too clearly: he way he would eliminate Tom without hesitation, the way his followers, much like the Death Eaters of her time, would cut him down as if he were nothing. It made her feel sick. She pressed a hand to her forehead, willing the tension away.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Lilia forced herself to focus on her parchment, trying to decipher the runes for her translation essay. It had been ten days since she had last spoken to Tom, ten days since he left her behind, and the wound had festered, raw and aching. She had drowned herself in coursework, filling her time with endless assignments, but nothing could stop the way his absence gnawed at her.

The realization had hit her slowly at first, then all at once: Tom Riddle meant far more to her than she had admitted, more than she had even realized. And she had hurt him. She had seen it in his eyes, the quiet devastation lurking beneath his carefully controlled expression when she had refused to give him an answer. He had asked her why it was a mistake, and all she could say was an apology. She had watched as something in him closed off, as he swallowed back whatever words he had wanted to say.

And yet, he had still stayed. He had still helped her. Undressed her with hands that were steady, almost reverent, and pressed his lips to her neck, not to claim, not to mock, but to leave behind something unspoken. Then he had pulled away. Left her to sleep, even as she knew he hadn't. Even as she felt him lingering.

She had let herself believe that she could keep him at arm’s length, that if she buried the weight of her feelings deep enough, they would stop suffocating her. But she had unraveled the second he touched her, the second his breath had ghosted over her skin. She had known then, in a way she could no longer deny, that she was clinging to whatever scraps of him she could find. That she was terrified of losing him.

Pathetic.

A quiet, familiar dread settled in her bones, curling around her lungs like a vice. It wasn’t just heartbreak that kept her awake at night, it was fear. She had lost too many people already, watched them die, buried them in makeshift graves, held their cold, lifeless hands. If she lost Tom too-

She squeezed her eyes shut, fingers tightening around the quill in her grip. She couldn’t let herself go down that path. And yet, the thought lingered, poisoning every moment of silence. Would she wake up one day to find him gone? Would she see his dead body sprawled before her, lifeless because of her?

The fear was unbearable.

A whisper cut through the quiet. “Lilia.”

She barely had time to register it before a familiar figure slid into the seat beside her. She blinked, snapping out of her trance as she met Nikolai’s grinning face. He leaned in, elbows propped lazily against the table. “Why do you look like you have another awful prank on your mind?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.

He gasped dramatically. “Did your sassy niffler die?”

Lilia frowned, tilting her head in confusion. “I mean, I fed him yesterday and he was still alive… Why?”

He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “You look like shit.”

She gaped at him, offended. “Excuse me?”

Nikolai held up a hand, as if counting off her flaws. “Dark circles worse than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re paler than the Bloody Baron. You spend an ungodly amount of time locked away in this library. And your eyes. Merlin’s sake, Lilia, they look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets.”

She sighed loudly, leaning back against the chair. “I’m just studying.”

He wasn’t buying it. “Sure it has nothing to do with lover boy?”

Her stomach twisted, and she hated that his words struck a nerve. Of course, it had everything to do with Tom. She forced herself to feign ignorance. “Why would it?”

“Because you look like someone’s wrung you dry.” His expression turned amused. “Bet it wasn’t the exams that did that.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “I’m just worried about finals.”

Nikolai gave her a skeptical look. His gaze was too sharp, too knowing. He was perceptive in ways that unsettled her, as if he was always seeing past what she wanted to show. His smirk returned. “I have just the thing to take your mind off exams.”

She arched a brow. “Oh?”

“Go on a date with me.”

Lilia almost choked. “What?”

“You heard me.” He leaned back, stretching his arms over his head as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Go on a date with me. Forget about exams. Forget about whatever brooding storm you’ve got in your head.”

Her heart stuttered, caught somewhere between disbelief and a hollow sort of amusement. At this point, she wanted to forget about everything. She wanted to erase her own existence entirely. “But-”

“No buts.” He gave her a slow, knowing grin. “You need to relax. I bet if I punched those shoulders, they’d snap like twigs.”

She frowned. “Not at all.”

Nikolai promptly punched her shoulder. She yelped, recoiling. “What the hell?” The muggle expression slipped out before she could control it, but the boy in front of her did not seem to take note of it.

He tutted in disapproval. “So fucking tense.”

Lilia rubbed her arm, glaring. If Tom had been there, he would have reprimanded Nikolai for swearing. She could not stop her mind from straying to him.

Her shoulders slumped. Maybe Nikolai was right. Maybe she did need to loosen up before she drove herself to an early death. Did it even count as an early death if she had already died once? 

Maybe a date was what she needed. It was exactly like how it had been in her time- casual, fleeting, a harmless distraction. Go on a date, talk a bit, laugh if you were lucky. Nine times out of ten, it led nowhere. Just a small reprieve from the monotony of being a student at Hogwarts. Ginny had gone on several dates, and it had helped with her popularity. Ginny, who was confident and extroverted and never had to pretend.

Lilia could make do with that. A date to take her mind off how stressful everything had gotten. Just one night where she didn’t have to be Lilia Rousseau, her shoulders heavy with secrets.

She exhaled. “Where would we even go?”

“Hogsmeade.”

She wanted to slap the smugness off his face.

“Hogsmeade is off-limits,” she deadpanned. “There was an attack. Grindelwald’s men stormed the village when we came back from winter break.” For a brief moment, the memory surfaced. Panic, wands drawn, the crackling of spells as students ran for cover. For that one terrifying moment, she thought she was going to lose them, thought she was going to lose him .

Nikolai’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “Which is exactly why we should go.”

She gawked at him. “That is the most ridiculous logic I’ve ever heard.”

“You wound me.”

She sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. “There’s no way to get there.”

“There is,” he countered smoothly. “I know a secret way out.”

Her stomach twisted.

That wasn’t possible. She was the only one who knew about the passages that connected Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. At least, the only ones in this timeline. She had never told anyone. Not even her friends. The unease that surfaced whenever she was around Nikolai reared its head again, prickling the back of her neck. There was something about him, something she had noticed since the day he arrived.

She should say no. She should walk away. And yet… against every warning screaming at her in the back of her mind, she sighed. “Fine.”

Nikolai grinned in victory. “Good choice.” He stood, ruffling her hair before she could stop him. “Dress warm. I’ll meet you in the common room at six.”

Lilia exhaled as he walked away, already regretting her decision.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia pulled on her winter cloak, fastening it over the woolen dress she had chosen for the night. The thick fabric offered warmth, but it did little to shake off the cold unease creeping through her veins.

She smoothed her hands over the dress absentmindedly before reaching for her lipstick, applying it with a steady hand, one of the few things she could still control. With a sigh, she ruffled her hair slightly, giving herself a final once-over in the mirror.

This was one of those moments when she wished she still had her invisibility cloak. It would have made things infinitely easier. The risk of getting caught sneaking out was already high, but with Hogwarts under tighter security after Grindelwald’s attack, it was downright reckless. If they were caught, there would be no easy way to explain themselves.

The thought barely had time to settle before the door swung open.

Celeste and Evangeline entered, chatting about their latest Charms assignment, their voices breaking the silence she had grown used to. Lilia’s steps faltered as all three of them hesitated, the air between them thick with some tension and awkwardness.

“Hey, Lilia,” Celeste greeted, her tone neutral, though her eyes flickered with something unreadable. “You look cozy.”

Lilia forced a smile. “Hey, guys.” They didn’t call her Lils anymore. She hated how she noticed that.

Evangeline’s gaze swept over her, pausing at the boots and the cloak. “Are you going somewhere?”

Lilia hesitated for half a second too long. “Oh, yeah, just the B- Black Lake.” The stutter was a mistake.

Celeste and Evangeline exchanged a glance, subtle but unmistakable. They didn’t press, but she could feel their suspicion prickling at the edges of the conversation.

“By yourself?” Celeste asked, tilting her head slightly.

“No,” Lilia admitted, shifting on her feet. “I’m going for a walk with Nikolai.”

Evangeline’s brows lifted. “Is it a date?”

Lilia faltered. “I… I guess?” She noticed, with an odd sense of detachment, the way they exchanged another look, a silent conversation happening between them that she was not a part of.

“You’re… seeing Nikolai now?” Evangeline asked carefully.

“No,” Lilia said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s just a date.”

Celeste didn’t look convinced. “Just a date?”

Lilia exhaled, suddenly exhausted by the scrutiny. “Yeah. We’ll talk, maybe have a drink or two, walk around.” She glanced at the clock, eager to end this conversation.

Evangeline forced a small smile. “Oh… okay. Stay safe, Lilia.”

It was polite. Distant.

Lilia mirrored the strained smile before quickly making her exit, heading to the common room where Nikolai was already waiting for her.

“Ready to go?” He asked, his usual mischievous smirk in place as he extended a hand toward her.

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before wrapping her arms around herself instead, pretending not to notice his outstretched hand.

His smirk wavered, just slightly, but he recovered quickly, stuffing his hands into his pockets as they made their way out.

Back in the dormitory, Evangeline and Celeste exchanged glances as they slowly put away their books, their earlier conversation hanging heavy between them.

“So… she’s moved on,” Celeste murmured, voice uncertain.

Evangeline frowned. “Did you hear her? She said it was just a date.” She shook her head. “That’s… terrible.”

Celeste leaned against her bedpost, exhaling. “I guess she really didn’t want to be with Tom.”

At the mention of his name, both girls shared an uneasy look.

“Should we tell him?” Evangeline asked, voice hushed, like they were speaking something forbidden into existence.

Celeste immediately shook her head. “Are you crazy? He acts like he doesn’t care, but we know better. I’ve never seen him in such a foul mood for this long.”

Evangeline hesitated, chewing on her lip. “You’re right, but… don’t you think he deserves to know?”

Celeste didn’t answer right away. She reached for her tie, slipping it off as she mulled it over.

It was no secret that Riddle had taken it hard when Lilia called their night together a mistake. To them, it made no sense- why she had let things escalate if she was only going to regret it later.

Tom and Lilia both looked miserable. And yet, none of them had expected Lilia to move on this quickly. A date.

It was practically unheard of for a girl to go out with different boys like that. Was she really that shameless?

Celeste let out a sigh, rubbing her temple. “We’re meeting the boys to duel in the Room of Requirement, right?”

Evangeline nodded slowly.

“I think we could mention it…” Celeste trailed off, glancing toward the door, as if expecting Riddle himself to materialize.

It wasn’t wise.

Tom was already unpredictable in the best of times. And in this state? They had no idea how he would react. But… he deserved to know. And as much as Tom and Lilia had given away so many pieces of themselves to each other, this was a clear sign.

Whatever they had, whatever existed between them, it was over.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Nikolai led Lilia through the hidden passageway concealed behind a tarnished mirror on the fourth floor, a secret she had thought only she and her friends knew. It was the same one Fred and George Weasley had frequently used in her time, a passage that stretched unseen beneath the castle, winding all the way to Hogsmeade.

She walked in silence, her boots barely making a sound against the stone. Something about this felt wrong. Nikolai had only been at Hogwarts for two months since transferring from Ilvermorny. How had he found this passage?

Lilia tightened her grip on the edges of her cloak, unease curling in her stomach. “How did you find out about this?” She asked, keeping her tone light as they moved through the dim corridor.

“I’m more perceptive than you think, pretty girl,” Nikolai replied smoothly.

Lilia shot him a pointed look. “Nikolai.”

“Lilia.” He huffed a dramatic sigh. “You don’t trust me?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He smirked. “Fine, you spoilsport. The Bloody Baron told me.”

Her brow furrowed. “You asked the Baron?”

“Why, yes, I did,” he said with exaggerated casualness. “I figured, if I was going to take a fine woman like you on a date, the least I could do was make sure nothing got in the way of our little escapade.”

Lilia wasn’t sure what unsettled her more: the fact that he had gone to a ghost for this information, or the fact that he had succeeded in getting an answer. Her fingers twitched at her sides. She should have told Evangeline and Celeste the truth. At least then, someone would have known where she was.

But she hadn’t.

And now she was here, following a boy she barely knew through the dark, on her way to a date she wasn’t even sure she wanted.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hogsmeade was as warm and inviting as she remembered. The shops and pubs glowed under golden light, their windows fogged up from the heat inside. Lanterns hung from wrought iron posts, flickering against the night sky. Snow had gathered along the rooftops, glistening under the soft hum of the village’s magic.

She should have felt comforted by it. Instead, her chest tightened. As they passed The Three Broomsticks, her gaze lingered on the familiar door, and a memory hit her with startling clarity.

The butterbeer foam on her lips. Tom’s fingers wiping it away. That fleeting second where she had forgotten how to breathe. Lilia looked away quickly, forcing her legs to keep moving. Not now. She could not think about him now.

Eventually, they settled into Madame Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, much to her dismay. It was gaudy and over-the-top, with frilly lace doilies on every surface and enchanted cherubs floating near the ceiling, sprinkling pink and gold glitter over the tables. She should have refused.

But Nikolai, reckless and insistent as ever, had already pulled out a chair for her. So she sat. They ordered their tea- earl grey for him, hibiscus rose for her- and as the minutes passed, she found herself only half-engaged in the conversation.

Her mind kept slipping back. To the way Tom had looked at her that night when she came back from Hufflepuff. To the way he had touched her with so much gentleness it made her want to cry. Then, to the way he had left her behind, all alone. She was supposed to be moving on. Then why did she still feel his lips on her skin?

“You look distracted, Lilia,” Nikolai observed, sipping his tea. She startled slightly, then quickly masked it with a sip of her own. “I’m not distracted, Nik.” It was a lie and they both knew it. For a moment, she caught something flashing across his face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced with his usual smirk.

He leaned forward slightly, fingers tapping against the porcelain cup. “Why don’t you tell me what exactly is going on between you and Riddle?”

Her grip on the teacup tightened, fingers stiff. “There’s nothing going on between us,” she muttered, but even to her own ears, it sounded weak.

Nikolai scoffed. “Now that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

Lilia exhaled slowly, setting her tea down with careful precision. “I…” She started. There was a note of finality in Nikolai’s voice, and for the first time, Lilia hesitated. She did not want to talk about Tom with Nikolai, or with anyone for that matter. She felt an odd sense of possessiveness when it came to everything they shared together. She did not want anyone else to see how happy and safe she had felt in the arms of the same person who destroyed her life.

She felt selfish, like a bloody traitor.

“It would be weird to talk about another guy while we’re on a date,” she said finally, forcing a half-smile.

“I told you, this date was about distracting you,” Nikolai countered smoothly. “But come on, Lilia. It’s obvious to anyone paying attention. You watch him in secret the same way he watches you. Something happened.”

Lilia’s throat tightened. She hated that he had noticed.

She took another sip of tea to push down the lump forming there, then exhaled. “Well, if you must know…” She hesitated, staring down at the rim of her cup. “Tom asked me to be his date for Valentine’s Day.”

Nikolai’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly masked it. “Okay. And?”

“And… we just didn’t work out.”

She traced the edge of her cup absentmindedly, her mind still elsewhere.

Nikolai tilted his head, studying her. “Do you like him?”

Her stomach churned. “Of course, I like him.” She hated how easily the words left her lips. “I still do,” she admitted, quieter this time.

“Even after you didn’t work out?”

Lilia swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

There was no point in lying. Not about this. She bit her bottom lip, running her fingers along the delicate china. “I did something terrible,” she confessed, barely above a whisper. “And it ruined everything between us. And my other friends too. The ones you usually see with Tom.” She exhaled shakily. “I ruined everything.”

Nikolai was silent for a moment. “So they all ditched you?”

Yes.

But she didn’t say it out loud. “I understand why they preferred to keep their distance,” she murmured instead. “They were his friends, not mine.”

There was a quiet pause before Nikolai leaned back, studying her with a serious expression that was rare for him. “No one thought to check on you?”

She shook her head. His jaw tensed.

“But you know…” She hesitated, staring into her tea as if it could offer her answers. “Everything that happened just confirmed one thing for me.”

“And that is?”

“I don’t belong here.”

He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

She swallowed hard, forcing a hollow smile. “I thought this could be a chance for me to start over, you know?”

“After France?” He prompted.

She hesitated. “Yeah… France.”

It was a lie.

But for now, she let him believe it.

For now, she let herself believe it too.

Nikolai excused himself to the restroom, and when he returned, their conversation had shifted to lighter topics. They left the tea shop soon after, and their return to Hogwarts was smooth, without any interruptions.

When they arrived back, Nikolai mentioned something about needing to see Slughorn for a potions assignment. Lilia barely registered it. She simply nodded, muttered a vague goodnight, and started toward the dungeons. Her thoughts were already far, far away.

It was almost curfew, and the castle was eerily silent. The torches burned low, casting shadows that stretched unnaturally along the stone corridors. Lilia walked alone, her thoughts heavier with each step.

She replayed her conversation with Nikolai over and over again. I don’t belong here. She knew it was true. She was an anomaly in this time, an intruder. A loose thread in the fabric of history that could unravel everything. She had already changed too much.

Grindelwald’s attention was shifting. He was looking for the person who would kill him in the future, and because of her, he was getting closer. If he discovered it was Tom, he would stop at nothing to eliminate him.

Tom could die because of her.

The thought was unbearable.

She had to put things back in place before it was too late.

But despite knowing what she had to do, her chest ached. She had allowed herself to get too close- to him, to his friends, to a life that was never meant to be hers. And now, she had to sever those ties before the inevitable happened. Lilia swallowed hard, forcing her focus back on the path ahead. She turned down the dimly lit corridor leading to the Slytherin dungeons.

She stopped dead in her tracks. A figure stepped out of the shadows. Her breath hitched.

Tom.

He emerged like a ghost, his presence consuming the space between them. The dim torchlight cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the cold detachment in his expression. Her body went rigid, her pulse hammering beneath her skin.

She hadn’t seen him since that night he put her to sleep. Since she spent hours replaying his words, trying to convince herself this was for the best. That this distance was necessary. That she could live with it. Now, standing before him in the dim corridor, she realized how wrong she had been.

She forced herself to move, to step around him, but the moment she tried, his hand shot out, fingers closing around her wrist like iron. Before she could react, he wrenched her back, pressing her against the cold stone wall.

A sharp inhale left her lips. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm. Unyielding. Lilia’s wide eyes met his, and for the first time in days, she found herself drowning in that abyss again. His expression was unreadable, carved from ice, but his grip betrayed something deeper that shouldn’t be there. A question sat heavy between them, unspoken but present in the way his fingers lingered against her skin.

“What are you doing?” She asked, her voice barely steady. Tom didn’t answer right away. His gaze swept over her face as if searching for something she didn’t know about. When he finally spoke, his voice was razor-sharp.

"A date, Rousseau?" Her stomach twisted. "You went on a date?" He said the word like it was something vile, something beneath her. The contempt in his voice made her spine stiffen, but beneath the ice, she could hear the pain.

Lilia clenched her jaw, tilting her chin up defiantly. He didn’t get to ask her that. “Yes,” she bit out, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. But there was no amusement in it. "Not my business?" His eyes darkened. "You really are impossible," he murmured, his voice softer now, but that edge was still present.

A wave of frustration surged through her. Why did he care? She had pushed him away, hadn’t she? “I don’t see why you’re asking me this," she said, voice tight. "It was just a date. Nothing more.”

His jaw tensed. His fingers twitched against her wrist, as if resisting the urge to tighten his hold. "Nothing more."

A shadow flickered in his eyes. And then, suddenly, his hands were braced on either side of her, caging her in, his body so impossibly close that she felt his warmth despite the chill of the corridor.

Her breath stilled. His voice dipped lower, barely above a whisper, but each word sent a sharp pang through her. “Did you want it to be more?” Her stomach dropped. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. His gaze was relentless, pinning her to the wall, searching. He was waiting for something, for her to say something, to admit something.

“I-” She started, but the words caught in her throat. She saw it then, the slightest shift in his expression. He had expected her to say no, to deny it. And that realization made her chest ache. “It’s none of your business,” she whispered instead, because she didn’t trust her voice to say anything else. Tom exhaled sharply, but his amusement was gone.

A long, heavy silence stretched between them. His next words were softer, but they cut just as deep. “Was I really a mistake to you, Lilia?” Her throat tightened.

She had called their night together a mistake. She had said it when she was hurt, when she had needed to push him away out of her own guilt. But now, standing here, caught between the weight of his stare and the racing of her own heartbeat, she couldn’t bring herself to say it again.

Still, she stayed silent. Tom let out a quiet breath, barely audible. For a fleeting moment, she thought he might step back. That he might let her go. But then his fingers traced up her arm, reaching her cheek in a ghost of a touch. Her breath hitched. His hand trembled. Barely. But she felt it.

His jaw clenched. “You’re lying,” he murmured. The words were almost gentle. Almost.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Please don’t do this, Tom. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt.

"Tell me," he said, voice low, almost coaxing. "Tell me you regret it."

She tried to summon the words. She tried. But her silence spoke louder than anything. His thumb brushed over her cheek, and a sharp pang of pain coiled in her chest.

Then, abruptly, his touch disappeared. The air between them shifted. Tom stepped back, his expression closing off in an instant. It was like watching a door slam shut. When he spoke again, his voice was void of warmth. "You weren’t at the Black Lake."

She froze. His expression darkened before he continued. "So you'd best be careful when sneaking out." He paused. "I am bound by my prefect duties, after all." The words sent a cold stab through her whole body.

Her breath hitched, but before she could say anything, before she could stop him, Tom turned on his heel and walked away. She stood there, frozen in place, her hands trembling. She felt hollow.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When Lilia walked back in her dorm, she felt numb and hollow. She could not push away the feeling that she had ruined the last thread of connection between her and Tom. She had tried to ‘move on’ and that had been a dramatic failure. Her mind had remained stuck on the prefect. No matter what she did, he was always entangled in her heart in ways that made it hard to breathe.

She was drowning under all the effort it took to put up a facade, day and night. She pretended that she really believed that being with Tom had been a mistake. She never talked of him with anyone and tonight had been a first when she opened up, even a little bit, with Nikolai. It was not enough for her to get through the weight that was pulling her down. 

Tom had seen her, truly seen all of her and he had not reacted with disgust or pity. He had been understanding and reverent. Was it truly terrible for her to want to find refuge in his arms? If only Harry or Remus had been here to talk to her about her feelings. The thought of opening up like that, however, made her skin crawl. She did not want to be vulnerable like that with anyone. She was the one holding people together. How had she ended up in pieces like this?

Both Celeste and Evangeline were in their beds when she got inside. This time, Lilia did not have the strength to plaster the fake smile that she wore for days. She barely spared them a glance as she headed to her bed. The two girls exchanged a look as they took in the girl’s ghostly appearance. 

Lilia’s dark circles were more prominent than ever and she looked like she could break from a simple touch.

“Lilia,” Celeste began cautiously, sitting up straight. “How was your date with Nikolai?”

Lilia looked back at her, sitting down awkwardly on the bed. Tom’s blanket was neatly folded by her pillow, a constant reminder of what she lost due to her own actions. “It was okay,” she muttered. 

But Lilia was far from okay and the two other girls could see that now. “How was the Black Lake?” Evangeline asked, voice as cautious as Celeste’s.

“We didn’t go to the Black Lake, we sneaked out to Hogsmeade.” She did not even bother lying.

“Oh. Hogsmeade… Did you have dinner there?”

“We just had tea.” She fiddled with her fingers in her lap.

Celeste sighed. “Lilia, you’re barely eating.”

She looked up, brows furrowing. “I eat just fine.”

“No.” Celeste shook her head. “You spend more time playing with your food than eating. Are you getting enough sleep? Do you still have nightmares?” Her voice softened.

Lilia wanted to recoil when she heard the worry in her voice. “I’m fine,” she bit back. 

“You know what?” Evangeline watched the girl closely. “You’re not. You look terrible, Lilia." She paused. "Are you doing okay?”

A lump lodged itself in Lilia’s throat again at the question. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. She was supposed to be fine, but she couldn’t even hide her emotions well. “I said I’m-”

“Don’t lie to us.” Evangeline interrupted sharply. 

Her uncharacteristically stern voice made her falter. Lilia simply looked down at her lap. She did not have the energy to pretend anymore when she was being ripped apart emotionally. When she sat on her bed like that, fiddling with her fingers, the two other girls could see the toll that the past weeks had taken on her.

“Lilia.” Celeste’s voice was soft as she stood up and approached her.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Lilia finally whispered, her voice breaking.

“Oh, Lilia.” Celeste wrapped her arms around her shoulders and Lilia buried her face in her stomach. Her eyes stung from the effort it took to hold in her tears. The brunette glanced back at Evangeline. They did not know what to do. 

“Talk to us, Lils. Please.”

Lils.

Her heart ached when they used her nickname. It was almost funny that she was losing her composure over something as simple as this. But she had been running away from the truth herself. She despised being the reason for people’s worry and worse, pain. She had first-hand experience with the pain that cruel words could cause. And now, she realised with horror, she had done the same thing.

“I don’t regret what happened with Tom,” she croaked, voice as brittle as ever.

“Then, why did you…” Evangeline began as she also approached Lilia, who was still in Celeste’s arms.

“There’s so much… baggage with me. It’s so hard for me. I- I feel guilty for what happened.”

“Why?” Neither Celeste nor Evangeline could understand it.

“I can’t really explain it, but I… I don’t deserve this.”

“What? Tom?”

She nodded in response.

Suddenly, it all made sense to the two girls. Celeste spoke up, “You don’t think you deserve to be loved.”

Lilia did not know what to say and so, she remained silent. It was laid out in the open now. The ugly truth that she kept buried inside her chest. How could she accept the sort of affection she had never received in her life from the one person who had caused all this chaos in her past? How could she go about living a normal life after she watched people die from a war that they were losing?

Evangeline’s eyes widened with horror. “Lilia…” Her voice trembled slightly. “We- We took Tom’s side because we knew how much you meant to him. And we thought that… We thought you were not serious about him.”

Lilia smiled sadly before pulling away and looking up at both her roommates. “I let you believe it.”

Celeste shook her head. “We never even asked you about your reasons. We just.. We abandoned you.”

Lilia felt a strange mix of hurt and validation in that moment. “I told you that it had all been a mistake. I know what it looked like. You thought I was leading him on. You just wanted to make sure he was doing okay.”

“But what about you?” Celeste asked, voice breaking. “You were hurting too. You never said anything.”

Lilia swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to bother you guys with this… burden.”

“Burden?” Evangeline asked, voice hoarse. “We left you behind when you were clearly suffering all alone. You are not a burden for us. You are our friend.”

Celeste’s eyes teared up. "We let you suffer by yourself." Her voice cracked on the last word, her eyes burning with regret. "Lilia, we- Salazar, we should have been there for you."

Against her better judgment, Lilia’s eyes filled up with tears and she pursed her lips together before nodding hesitantly.

“Oh, Lils.” Celeste hugged her again.

“I’m sorry.” Evangeline also joined in, hugging Lilia from the side. “I’m so sorry too. We left you when you needed us most.”

Lilia couldn’t speak as tears streamed down her face.

“We’re here for you now,” Celeste murmured tearily, caressing the girl’s hair. “We’re here.”

For the first time in a long time, Lilia allowed herself to cry in the arms of her roommates. 

Chapter Text

As Lilia got ready for the day in the bathroom, she realised that her tremors had gone down.

It was a small change, but she felt hope. So much hope that things would be alright even as she was navigating such a unique situation. She tried casting a minor spell without the use of her wand, relying on the movement of her hand. The light she wanted to conjure instead hit the tap and caused it to char slightly in one spot. But this was so much better than not being able to conjure a spell at all. In fact, if she wanted to humour herself, it reminded her a lot of that time Ron had used a damaged wand for the whole of their second year. 

She showered, drank her draught, and got ready for the day. She had gotten used to wearing Slytherin colours now. It was dismaying, in a sense, to note that she had assimilated quite easily in this timeline even when she wasn’t supposed to be here.

That assimilation went hand in hand with the fact that she had started to forget minor details from her past life. Harry’s eye colour, the minor discoloration in her Ravenclaw tie, the exact shade of Remus’ handkerchief, all these details had started slipping out of her mind. Her own eyes were brown and often, she tried to picture them in a lighter shade to remember the few pictures she had seen of her father. Lilia had taken after James Potter and yet, other than the black hair, there were barely any similarities with her father. Or her mother. 

When she went back out, Celeste and Evangeline were already up. She gave them a small grateful smile. After she cried in their arms last night, they all huddled up with her and fell asleep in her bed. She had not slept much since she was unfamiliar with the presence of other people next to her at night (Tom always seemed to be the exception). However, the weight that had been weighing down on her shoulders for the past weeks had lessened significantly.

“Lils! Come here, I’ve been dying to try out this one look on you,” Celeste exclaimed while Eva slipped in the bathroom.

“What will it be today?” Lilia asked, sitting down at the dresser table while the brunette seemed to be rummaging through the drawers for something.

“Got it!” Cel immediately set out to work, dividing the top section of Lilia’s hair in two before braiding them along with two strings made of yellow miniature flowers. Then she ruffled her hair slightly to give it some volume. Lilia stared at herself in the mirror in awe. She looked beautiful . A touch of blush and lipstick, and she looked like she was going to fly off in a field of flowers. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous, Lils!” Eva exclaimed as soon as she was done with her shower.

Her smile was genuine when she glanced at the blonde girl whose hair was wet.

“Your hands are magical, Cel,” she complimented softly.

“You are the one who’s magical,” Celeste added, a proud smile on her face. The latter glanced at the clock before hurrying away to the bathroom. “Merlin, I’m gonna be late!” Then she slammed the door behind her. 

“Know who’s gonna be happy to see you, Lils?” Eva teased while combing her hair.

Lilia’s cheeks reddened.

Tom .

Her heart skipped a beat. She would see him again. It made her heart soar with joy. Then, she remembered their conversation the previous night and it plummeted right into her stomach. She had let him believe that their intimate moments together had been a mistake. 

“I’m pretty sure he hates me,” she replied, disappointed.

Eva tutted. “Tom does not hate you. The two of you are like idiots pining in hiding for each other.”

Lilia shook her head. “No, Eva. I held myself back from my own feelings and now… I fear I may have lost him.” She paused. “All because of my own issues.”

“Lilia.” Her friend cut her off as she walked to the dresser table before taking a hold of her hand. “Tom will understand. You just have to speak to him.”

“But… It doesn’t make sense.” She shook her head. “Eva, he won’t get it-”

The blonde’s voice softened when she saw the way her friend’s chest started heaving as her breathing got more laboured. “Calm down. Take a deep breath. You’re panicking.” Then she adjusted some of the flowers in Lilia’s braids. “You look beautiful. You’ll talk to Tom and the two of you will figure things out.” 

Lilia took in deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. She would be alright. She had to be. Granted, the conversation with Tom the previous night had been less than ideal but she had been denying one truth to herself: Tom liked her back. Hell, he had kissed her like she was someone who deserved all the reverence in the world. He did not simply listen to her; he also made sure to be there to comfort her. She had let down her walls around him, letting him in more than she ever did with anyone else. 

How ironical was it that she had to be sent back in time to find someone like that to hold her shattered pieces together?

But today, she would try. Even if her heart trembled at the thought of facing him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia had not sat at the Slytherin table next to her friends in days. She walked behind Evangeline and Celeste timidly like a puppy following its mother. She was ready to bolt if needed.

It was not just Tom; she had barely talked to Tiernan, Icarus, or Abraxas since her fallout with the prefect. She could picture Abraxas’ steely eyes set on her, vilifying her in his mind for hurting his friend. Tiernan and Icarus were more laid-back, but she had still indirectly ruined the small threads of connection that she had with them.

Her heart thudded when she saw the four boys sitting at the table. Why were they so punctual? She didn’t even have time to prepare herself before facing them.

Somehow, Tom had already felt her presence before she entered. But when she stepped into the Great Hall, looking like a walking breath of spring with those damned flowers in her hair, his grip tightened on his cup. He did not move, did not blink, but something in his chest constricted.

She was still avoiding his eyes. Of course she was.

Tom towered over almost everyone at the school and his presence was commanding even as he sat down, sipping tea. She knew the exact way he drank it, black with one spoonful of sugar. Not too tart, not too sweet. His dark hair was styled neatly and a strand fell haphazardly across his forehead. She wanted to tuck it away and admire his beautiful face. 

As she approached, four pairs of eyes looked up at her and she wanted to shrivel away. She was not cut out to be the centre of attention the way Tom was. She despised it even more when she noticed the curious glances that the three others exchanged with her roommates.

Tom kept a steady gaze on her. His dark eyes seemed to be seeing into her very soul. She regretted nothing with him. He was the only person with whom she felt safe enough to open up to. She nodded to herself imperceptibly.

“Lils is joining us for breakfast again from now on.” Evangeline broke the awkward silence that had settled at the table as she sat down.

Lilia sat at her unofficially designated chair, right in front of Tom. Her whole body heated up and she looked at the other guys. Contrary to what she had expected, none of the guys looked annoyed or disgusted. They all gave her small strained smiles, even Abraxas. Tom’s expression was unreadable as he preferred to focus on his cup of tea. 

“We had a long conversation yesterday.” Celeste nodded. “And Lilia should be here with us. We are her friends.”

Tom gripped his cup tightly. It took more effort to avoid looking at her especially when she sat in front of him looking absolutely breathtaking. The yellow flowers in her hair, her pink lips that were just begging for him to touch them again, her soft skin… She was too beautiful for her own good. And for his. His chest tightened in a way he could not explain. There she was, sitting in front of him looking like an angel when just the previous night, she had not been able to tell him that she regretted what had happened between them. 

“Did you… solve things out?” Icarus asked, cautiously looking from Celeste to Lilia to Tom.

“All in good time,” Celeste replied.

That grabbed Tom’s attention as he looked from Celeste to Lilia. The latter gave them all a tentative smile. Icarus sighed,

“I missed having you here, Lilia.”

“I missed you too,” she agreed.

“And I had no one to boast to about sneaking out to Hogsmeade,” Tiernan added.

She chuckled. “So you’ve been making good use of that secret passage I showed you all?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“He goes out there all the time to grab candy for his girlfriend. She apparently prefers her teeth rotten,” Abraxas intervened.

Lilia blinked, surprised. “Candy is good,” she replied with a wider smile.

“Did you finish yours?”

“I eat them occasionally.” She smiled at the memory of how Malfoy got her sweets from Hogsmeade. 

Tom focused on his toast, eating silently as the others fell into an easy conversation with Lilia.

His mind was buzzing with thoughts. She had not been able to say that their time together had been a mistake, that she really regretted it. He knew her well enough to guess that there was more to her actions and words than what he had initially attributed. He knew there was something else going on. He knew he had to ask her for the truth. Yet, the reminder that she had gone on a date with Nikolai Wilfred the previous day left a sour taste in his mouth. Pride, possession, and sheer affection for the girl warred in his chest. 

Just as the conversation came to a lull as everyone started eating, someone tugged on Lilia’s braid and she gasped in surprise. Nikolai slid in the seat next to her, grinning. “Planning to seduce the bees today?” He quipped, grabbing himself some coffee before taking a messy sip.

“Don’t mess up my hair!” She exclaimed, patting down the braid. She wanted Tom to find her pretty. However, when she looked up, he was not looking at her. He was glaring daggers at Nikolai. Her lips parted slightly in surprise. 

The others stared at Nikolai like he was a piece of entertainment. Lilia, sensing that this was an awkward situation, cleared her throat. “Uh.. This is Nikolai.” She vaguely gestured to the guy who sat on her right as she introduced him to the others. They all mumbled their introductions. Tom remained quiet. 

Nikolai raised an eyebrow, amused. “You must be the famous Tom Riddle.” He grinned at the prefect.

Lilia glanced at him, silently trying to tell him not to be so cheeky with Tom. The latter noticed the look they shared and it grated on his nerves. He set his toast down. “You two went on a date together yesterday.” Those were the first words he spoke since Lilia joined the table. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment.

“We did,” Nikolai agreed.

“You were not at the Black Lake.”

Nik glanced at Lilia. “Is that what you told them?”

She shrugged. “Well… Yeah, it’s not like…” She trailed off before sighing. “We went to Hogsmeade.”

“Madame Puddifoot's,” Nik corroborated. 

Tom could see her sitting at a table, chatting and laughing with Nikolai while they were surrounded by the gaudy and cheesy decor. It was the perfect place for a date. His jaw clenched in annoyance. “I suppose you two had fun.”

“Yeah, and a crazy amount of tea,” Nikolai replied.

Everyone stared between Tom and Nikolai. They all knew about the date, but Celeste and Evangeline knew that there was more to it after their conversation with Lilia. 

Nikolai stared at Tom, amusement flashing across his features. The prefect with his dark features and furrowed brows looked like he was ready to kill him. He chuckled. “Calm down, mate. You look like you’re about to do something you will regret.”

Tom bristled internally. “I don’t do things I will regret.” It was a simple statement poised in confidence. Lilia almost swooned before she remembered that this situation would become more tense. She was about to speak out but Nik beat her to it. “No need to be jealous. We talked about you for most of the date. She’s not over you.”

After dropping those words like a bomb, he grabbed a banana and stood up, adjusting his bag over his shoulders. “See you at lunch, Lil.” 

Oh, Merlin.

Lilia was left mortified in her seat. She did not dare look up at Tom.

Next to her, Celeste choked on her coffee. Evangeline tapped her back. “You okay?” She asked, trying her hardest not to laugh. Celeste’s eyes were watering.

“I’m fine,” Celeste managed, voice strangled as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Totally fine. Just... went down the wrong way.”

“Of course it did,” Eva muttered behind her cup, snorting slightly.

Tiernan was chewing slowly, almost like he regretted waking up that morning and he muttered, “If someone doesn’t say something soon, I’m going to throw myself into the Black Lake.”

Abraxas was hiding behind his newspaper (Where did this even come from?) , but his ears were red. “So,” he said tightly, not lowering the Prophet, “that was... enlightening.”

Lilia, still not looking at Tom, wished the floor would open up and consume her entire being.

Tom, however, had not moved. He sat perfectly still, his eyes trained on the empty seat Nikolai had just vacated as if sheer hatred might cause it to catch fire. There was a muscle ticking in his jaw. 

“Tom,” Celeste finally said, blinking innocently, “Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” he replied through clenched teeth.

Evangeline leaned toward Lilia and whispered, “You’re going to have to talk to him eventually, Lils.” Lilia groaned quietly.

Tom finally spoke, his voice smooth but cold. “It’s impressive,” he said without looking at her, “how a single idiot can ruin an entire morning.”

Celeste  and Evangeline were laughing silently, barely managing to cover their mouths.

Tiernan slow clapped.

Abraxas turned the page.

Icarus was vibrating with laughter in his seat.

Lilia groaned into her hands. 

Merlin save her.

And lunch was still hours away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lunchtime arrived faster than Lilia hoped. Which, unfortunately, was still not fast enough to stop the absolute circus of whispers trailing her all morning.

Eva had leaned in during Transfiguration and whispered, “He’s still mad. He didn’t even read the seventh year textbook that he usually likes to go over for fun.”

Celeste had stared at her, giving her a look that seemed to be saying "He wants to kill Nikolai." But Lilia might have misinterpreted.

Now, walking into the Great Hall again, Lilia felt every molecule of her being clench in anticipation.

Tom was already at the table. His posture was stiff, his tie perfect and his expression deadly.

And Nikolai? He was sitting right next to the empty seat she usually took.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath.

“Want to switch tables?” Eva offered sweetly.

“I’d rather face the torture curse,” Lilia replied. And she spoke from experience.

She straightened her shoulders like a soldier going to war. “Besides. It’s just lunch.”

Celeste patted her back. “It’s never just lunch with you.”

As they neared the table, Tom’s gaze flicked up. Just once. But it was enough to send her pulse stuttering.

Nikolai looked up too, smirking, of course. Probably planning his next murder-worthy line. “Lilia!” He greeted, kicking the chair out for her like he owned the place. “I saved you a seat.”

Tom’s knuckle was white as he gripped the spoon so tightly it looked like it was on the verge of snapping.

“Salazar,” Abraxas muttered under his breath.

She sat down carefully, trying to play it cool while internally screaming. Tom hadn’t said anything yet, but his silence was worse than any insult he could’ve hurled across the table.

“So,” Nikolai started, pouring her some pumpkin juice like this was a date, “did you sleep well last night?”

“I did,” she replied, very aware of the tension radiating from across the table like a cloud of ominous energy. “Thanks for asking.”

Tom finally spoke. “Interesting.” Just that. Nothing else. But it carried so much meaning, the entire table froze.

Even Abraxas peeked over the rim of his cup.

Nikolai grinned. “Why? Jealous, Riddle?”

Tom didn’t look up from his plate. “Of you? Please.”

“Oh?” Nikolai’s voice turned singsong. “Because it really seems like-”

“I’m more likely to pity you,” Tom interrupted, still not looking at him. “It must be exhausting, spending all your time chasing after what you’ll never have.”

Lilia dropped her fork. There was a somewhat collective gasp at the table.

Nikolai’s smirk faltered for just a second. “Touché.”

Tom finally raised his eyes to meet Lilia’s. Something dark and unmistakably possessive glittered in them. “Enjoying your tea parties, Rousseau?”

She swallowed. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

There was a pause. His voice was dangerously soft. “Yes.” Lilia blinked, heart slamming in her chest.

And then, as casually as ever, Tom returned to his soup. “Not that my preferences matter, of course.”

She stared at him. Eva leaned toward her, whisper yelling. “You need to talk to him. Before he kills someone.”

Celeste nodded sagely. “Or Nikolai gets a hex to the throat.”

Somebody, save her. How was she going to survive a conversation with Tom after this?

Chapter Text

Lilia tossed and turned in bed while the soft snores of Evangeline and Celeste filled the bedroom.

It was almost one in the morning and she couldn’t sleep while her mind raced with thoughts of Tom and the conversation they needed to have. She really wanted to clear the air with him, then she wanted to kiss him until she could not breathe. The way she craved his touch and comfort almost made her body heat in shame. 

Lilia Potter would never have understood the reliance that she had developed on Tom Riddle, especially not when he was supposed to become the one person who would single-handedly ruin everything in her life.

Voldemort stole her chance at so many things that people considered normal. She had lost her parents, she had been overshadowed by her own brother, she had lost friends and loved ones, she had lost her own life. Life had taught her to take on the role of a protector, a soldier, to save the people who really mattered. While she had clung to Theo for comfort, she had also isolated herself to deal with all her shattered pieces and emotions.

There was always one thing or the other that overshadowed her willingness to reach out for comfort. Why did she need comfort for a few tears when Harry had literally been told he had to die for Voldemort to cease existing too? It was pointless.

Lilia Rousseau, on the other hand, cried so easily that it surprised her sometimes. She felt the change in herself that first time she cried in front of Tom. As guilty as she felt to think like this, being a person of her own in this world had also been oddly liberating. Isolating, but freeing nonetheless.

Over here, she did not care much about bottling her own feelings. Nothing would be held against her if she cried about the war that she had lived through because no one else could understand what it was like to fight for survival. They could not imagine it. There was a global wizarding war affecting other countries, but Hogwarts was not affected.

Lilia Rousseau could express herself the way she wanted and she needed Tom for comfort. She needed his gentle, reassuring words. His arms that made her melt in their hold. She needed him to tell her that everything would be alright.

Lilia slipped out of bed as silently as possible before taking a deep breath and heading out towards the common room. Her heart hammered so loudly in her chest that it almost sounded like there were rhythmical knocks on the walls. She hoped that he would be there. Then she could come clean about her feelings. Then everything would be fine. Right?

Her stomach twisted violently in a knot when she saw him sitting on the couch by the fireplace, his pyjamas reflecting the light, his hair slightly dishevelled and his cheekbones more prominent than ever in the dim light. One hand held onto a book while the other twisted a lit up cigarette carelessly. At first glance, she assumed that he had not noticed her. But then, she caught the muscle twitching in his jaw and the way his brows furrowed slightly more.

He knew she was there. He was ignoring her. A small pressure built in her chest. 

“Tom,” she called out softly. Her steps were hesitant as she approached the couch and stopped a couple metres away from him.

He exhaled and tore his eyes from the book to look up at her. Her breath hitched when their gazes met. His eyes slowly trailed from her face down to her body. Her stomach tightened. Her nightgown was thin, almost see-through, and he could probably see the outline of her curves. When his eyes met hers again, she remained frozen in place. 

Tom did not say anything and her mind blanked. There were so many things that she wanted to tell him. Why did she suddenly run out of words? “Can I talk to you about…” She paused to muster her courage. “About us?”

His jaw tightened. “What’s there to talk about?” His voice was raspy and she felt each gravelly syllable in her whole being. Her hands were clenched into fists by her side, nails digging into her palm. 

“It was not right of me to call the time we spent together a mistake.” Her voice was smaller than she would have liked. It certainly did not help that his expression was nothing less of stern. He was about to say something but she raised her hand. “Let me finish. Please.”

He sighed and put away the book while extinguishing his cigarette in an ashtray by the couch.

“I had a lot of time to think about why I did what I did, about the horrible things I said about our… first night together.” She shook her head slightly. “I feel ashamed about the way I acted. The truth is, I don’t regret anything we did together. I know that’s what I told Eva, but… it was not a mistake.” Her eyes had strayed to the floor. She could not bear to look up at him only to find a mocking smirk or anger. Not from him . 

“Why did you say that then?” Tom asked just as quietly, as if afraid to break the silence of the common room.

Her heart was racing as she prepared herself for what she was about to do: pour her heart out to this person who had the power to trample over it and leave her shattered. “I thought about it a lot and really, I think I understand it now. With you, I… have always felt understood. Somehow, the way you talk to me, the way you hold me, the things you do… They make me feel safe .”

She took a deep breath while her hands started trembling slightly from the force of the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

“Lilia.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to calm down as she nodded.

“And-”

“Look at me.”

Her response was immediate, her body listening before she had the time to process his words. She had expected anger, mockery, frustration… Not this. Not the serious look on his face, the slightly downturned lips, the furrowed brows, like he was in pain . A lump formed in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Things happened to me, Tom. And I know, I keep asking you to trust me even when I can’t tell you what. I’m asking for a lot, but-” She swallowed back a sob before continuing. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. You are… so kind to me. You actually listen to me. And I feel so selfish because I want your time, your attention. No one’s ever treated me the way you do. You are someone who listens to me, who comforts me.”

They stared at each other while she slowly unravelled. He did not say anything, silently encouraging her to go on with a small nod. 

“I thought it was blasphemous of me to want you like that. Everything you do, everything you say makes me feel like I matter . But, it feels unfair for me to get that kind of reassurance when so many people I know died with nothing close to it.” Her voice broke slightly but she continued. “I don’t deserve that kind of comfort. I don’t deserve you. I’m a mess. The war that I fought in… fucked up with everything about me. This-” She gestured towards herself as a tear slipped down her cheek. “-is not who I am. This is what’s left of me after the war and it’s pathetic.”

By now, more tears fell down her cheeks. “I’m not whole, there will always be a part of me missing. And-” 

Her words caught in her throat when he stood up and approached her in a few strides. She had to look up at him when he stopped in front of her, dwarfing her in his presence.

“Don’t you dare put yourself down like that.” His voice was calm, steady but she saw the glassy sheen in his eyes. “You are more than the war you fought in.” She shook her head but she froze when he cupped her cheeks with both hands. The calloused feel of his palms against her skin instantly calmed her down and she stared up at him, tears silently streaming down her face. 

“There is nothing wrong with you as you are now. You are not incomplete. You went through hell and yet, here you are, still standing, tall and strong. You keep your feelings to yourself but you don’t have to do that with me. You deserve to be cherished and cared for like the precious person that you are.” A tear slipped down his own cheek and her heart broke at the sight.

She sobbed. “I don’t-”

“Stop it,” Tom interrupted, voice hoarse. “Stop putting yourself down like this. I don’t know what it’s like to be on the battlefield, to lose so many people that I care for. But what I do know, is that no one deserves to think that they are unloveable. Especially not someone like you.” 

Her lower lip quivered and she sniffled. “I’m sorry, Tom.”

“Merlin, Lilia. Why do you deny yourself of any chance at happiness?” He asked softly, wiping away the tears from her face. “Hmm?” His eyes were so tender, so gentle that it made her cry harder.

No one had ever looked at her like this .

“Do you think the people who love you would like seeing the way you’re punishing yourself for things that were out of your control?” She thought back to Harry, to Theo, to Remus. Her vision blurred. “No,” she choked out.

“It hurts me too when you push yourself away like that, like you’re trying to build a wall between us.” 

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Don’t apologise.” Tom patiently wiped away her tears and cradled her face. Then, he leaned in and placed a small kiss on her forehead.

Her eyes fluttered shut before she looked up at him again. “You’re not mad at me?”

The sound of her voice, so small and raw, brought out a teary chuckle. “You, my dear, are my only weakness in this world.” He stared at her for a long beat. Neither of them moved.

Then, her lips twitched into a faint smile. She reached out to wipe the tear on his face. He was her weakness too. Her biggest one.

Then, before she could do or say anything else, Tom led her to the couch and pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck and she hugged him tightly. He wrapped a hand around her waist, holding her tightly against him, while the other carded through her hair. “You have suffered a lot, Lilia.” He paused. “Let me share some of that burden with you.” She hugged him tighter before nodding.

She pulled away slightly, their faces inches from each other. Her eyes went over every detail on his face. His dark brows, his nose, his cheekbones, then his pink lips. “Can I kiss you?” She whispered before looking in his eyes again. His lips twitched in a small smirk. “You don’t have to ask.”

Tom closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers with a force that stole her breath away.

She had expected soft, gentle. But this was urgent, desperate. Her hands curled on his shoulders while his hand held the back of her head, bringing her impossibly close to deepen their kiss. The knot in her stomach had loosened considerably and her whole body heated up at the contact. It was like every part of her became alive when he kissed her like this. Like he needed her or he would suffocate. Her own movements were uncoordinated, sloppy even, but they conveyed the rawness of how much she craved this contact.

They both pulled away briefly to catch their breaths. “I missed you, Tom,” she breathed before her lips found his again, unable to stay away. A small sound caught in his throat as he ravaged her lips. 

By the time they pulled away again, their lips were swollen and they both looked dishevelled.

“Being without you was my own personal hell, Lilia.” He stared at her, seeing every piece of her cracked wide open. There was no wish to possess or devour; he just wanted to hold her together.

Then his lips were on hers again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Their lips were still tingling, breaths still uneven when the silence crept back in between them- thick, charged, but no longer heavy with hurt.

Lilia remained on his lap, her forehead resting gently against his, eyes fluttering shut as she tried to commit this moment to memory.

The safety. The warmth. Him .

Her voice, when it came, was soft. Fragile. “Will you come to bed with me?”

Tom stiffened just slightly beneath her. His hands, still holding her waist, tightened, only a little, like he was grounding himself. His jaw tensed, and his brows twitched just faintly. He pulled back enough to look at her properly. “Lilia…” 

“Not like that,” she added quickly, cheeks flushing as her fingers tightened on his collar. “I just- I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He exhaled, long and slow, like the breath had been caught somewhere in his chest this whole time. Her words were honest. Vulnerable. There was no seduction in her voice, only longing. Not for pleasure, but for closeness, safety. The warmth of another body beside hers in the dark.

“I’ll draw the drapes,” she continued, quieter now. “No one will see. You don’t have to stay the whole night if you don’t want to. I... I don’t want to wake up alone.”

Her words shattered something inside him. “Alright,” he murmured. “Lead the way.”

She slid off his lap and reached for his hand, not looking at him as she guided him to the still dormitory. The curtains were drawn tight on her roommates’ beds. She hoped that they wouldn’t notice or care.

When they reached her bed, she didn’t speak. She just pulled the thick green velvet drapes closed around them and crawled under the covers, shifting to one side with a soft, shaky exhale. The blanket from their night together, rested in a small pile in the corner of her bed.

Tom stood for a moment, silent and still, watching her silhouette in the low light.

And then, he slipped in beside her. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, and Lilia immediately turned toward him, curling into his side like she belonged there. Her head found its place on his chest, and his arms wrapped around her without hesitation. She pressed her face against his neck, drawing in the scent of his skin like it was oxygen.

Neither of them said anything for a long while.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered. “I just… need this. Just this.”

Tom’s voice was low, barely audible. “You think I’d ever deny you something like this?” Her breath hitched.

“You’re not alone,” he added after a beat. His hand moved to gently stroke her hair. “Not anymore.”

She nodded into his chest, and slowly, finally, her breathing evened out.

Tom lay there in the dark, wide awake, her hand curled over his heart, her cheek pressed against his pulse.

And for the first time in a long time, the world felt… still.

Chapter Text

When Lilia woke up that morning, the first thing she registered was how her limbs were tangled, not just in the sheets, but around something solid and warm. 

Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, her body relaxing the moment she saw Tom’s sleeping face. They were facing each other, his arms loosely wrapped around her waist, while her fingers clutched the silk of his pyjamas like a lifeline.

The bed was cocooned behind heavy drapes, but the watery glow of the Great Lake seeped through in soft, shifting light- not gold, but green-blue, like sunlight refracted through an endless ocean. It painted the space in gentle ripples. It felt like their own secluded realm, untouched by time or expectation. 

Just warmth. Just him. Just her. She smiled faintly.

She let herself look at him. His face, always so perfectly composed, seemed softer in sleep. With dark lashes resting against sharp cheekbones and his expression utterly peaceful, he looked almost like a fallen angel. She wanted to kiss him so badly.

A flush crept up her neck at the thought. All she wanted was to wrap her arms around him, pull him closer, and kiss him until the world disappeared. It reminded her of those nights when her mind betrayed her, conjuring memories of the way he could make her see stars with a single touch. Her stomach clenched. Her core throbbed.

Merlin.

She exhaled shakily and shifted onto her back, but the movement caused her thigh to brush against something hard. Her cheeks went crimson.

Tom let out a low, raspy sound that shot straight between her legs. “Lilia…” His voice was rougher than usual, still dipped in sleep, and when she turned to him, she found his eyes half-lidded and heavy with something unreadable.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His gaze was dark and tender all at once. “I was just resting my eyes. I’ve been awake for a while.” Of course he had. He wasn’t used to sharing a bed with anyone.

Though he still looked half-asleep, his gaze drifted down her neck, lingering on the curve of her chest, and she could swear his expression darkened. Confused, she followed his line of sight. Then she froze.

Her nightgown, with its dangerously low neckline, had slipped just enough for most of her right breast to spill out. To her horror, her nipple was visibly peaked.

Tom exhaled slowly, his cock hardening further at the sight. Her earlier movement had already stirred him awake in the most pleasant way imaginable, but this was something else entirely.

There she was, lying beside him in a flimsy nightgown that barely covered her curves, one breast exposed, the fabric bunched around her hips like an invitation. It was a vision straight out of his most decadent dreams.

“I like this view,” Tom murmured, the corner of his mouth curling upward when she looked away in embarrassment.

Lilia turned onto her back, cleared her throat, and tried to soothe the ache building between her legs by squeezing her thighs together. She adjusted her neckline quickly. “That wasn’t on purpose,” she mumbled.

“Exactly,” he replied smoothly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her.

Before she could respond, he placed a hand on her stomach, palm pressing lightly against the warmth of her skin. “Did you think about it, Lilia?” He asked, voice low and coaxing, his hand applying just a hint more pressure.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “About what?” she whispered, already knowing the answer, but needing him to say it.

“Our first time together.”

A faint smile touched his lips as his hand glided up, fingers brushing over one of her hardened nipples through the thin fabric. She gasped softly, her back arching, her breath coming quicker. “Always,” she breathed, squeezing her thighs tighter.

“Oh?” His tone was smug, infuriatingly so, but it only made her want him more.

He continued toying with her nipple, each gentle tug sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. Her hips shifted restlessly, need pulsing through her. And all the while, the knowledge that her two roommates were right there, likely still asleep, only made it worse. Or better.

“What did you think of?” He asked, voice dipping deeper as he moved to the other breast, offering it the same slow, maddening attention.

He wanted her to speak. He knew she was doing everything she could not to beg for his touch. And that was exactly what made him wait. Tom wanted her to beg, just as he spent every night craving every inch of her, with no real outlet to sate the hunger she ignited in him. Knowing that she thought of him just as much only stoked the fire further.

Her chest was rising and falling with every breath, her body already succumbing to the tension between them. When she met his gaze- dark, unwavering, heavy with desire, her hips rolled instinctively, need pulsing through her.

He noticed. Of course he noticed.

“I like the way you touched me,” she whispered, voice soft and breathless. So firm. So possessive. She liked knowing that Tom wanted her only for himself.

“I can see that,” he murmured.

In a fluid motion, he moved above her, arms braced on either side of her head, a knee slipping between her thighs to keep them spread apart. She gasped sharply when he pressed it firmly against her heat through her panties. Her body jolted, need coiling tight. “Shh.” He tutted softly. “You don’t want to wake your roommates, do you?”

The smirk that played at his lips made her face flush with mortification. How was she supposed to stay quiet when he was this close, when every part of her felt like it was on the verge of combustion from his touch alone? But she knew what would happen if they heard her moaning for him. She’d never live it down. Reluctantly, she nodded. “Good,” he said, satisfied.

Then he pressed his knee harder into her, deliberately, dragging it slowly in a way that made her arch into him with a silent moan. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Fuck.

“Are you wet already, Lilia?” He murmured, grinding his knee slowly against her heat. Her breath hitched; silent, shallow gasps that escaped one after another. Her hips lifted from the bed instinctively, chasing the friction. “I… I think so,” she whispered, her stomach clenching with need.

Tom leaned in, lips brushing the curve of her neck before sucking gently. Her head fell back against the pillow, mind short-circuiting until there was nothing left to focus on but him . The heat of his mouth, the strength of his body, the way his presence filled up all the hollow parts of her.

She loved his marks. Loved knowing that when he kissed her like this, it meant she was his . It made her feel wanted. Cherished in a way that was all-consuming.

A soft whimper slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

Tom responded with another gentle suck to the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, and she gasped, grinding harder against his knee. His hand found her breast again, fingers tightening, pinching her nipple just as his teeth sank into her skin. Her thighs trembled. And then, she shattered.

Her orgasm hit like a storm, ripping through her with a muffled moan as she bit hard into her lower lip to stay quiet. The pleasure was overwhelming, and he didn’t stop. He just kissed a trail along her throat, slow and indulgent, until he reached the soft skin below her ear. “You’re so sensitive…” he whispered, nipping at her earlobe, drawing another sharp gasp from her lips.  “So easy to please.”

Lilia lay dazed, her body humming with aftershocks while Tom painted dark marks along her skin just like he had on Valentine’s night. Her eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as she fought the urge to moan. “You missed me, didn’t you?” He whispered against her ear.

She nodded instinctively.

“Words.”

“I did,” she breathed. “I missed you.”

Her body still ached for more. The warmth in her belly hadn’t faded; it had only grown, a smoldering need that flared each time he touched her. Her hips lifted again, seeking more friction, but he didn’t comment. He only watched. And then, without a word, he slid the nightgown off her shoulders and down her body.

She didn’t cover herself. And that was what made his chest warm, not just with lust, but something deeper. The first time, she had tried to hide her scars from him. This time, she didn’t. Good. She would never need to hide from him. And if she ever did again, he’d hold her until the shame bled out of her bones.

His gaze dropped to the damp patch soaking through her underwear. The sight made his cock twitch with urgency, but he didn’t give in. Not yet. He wanted her to beg. And if there was one thing Tom Riddle possessed in abundance, it was patience.

He took his time. His mouth found her collarbones first, then trailed lower- breasts, ribs, stomach. He kissed and sucked, nipped and lingered, worshipping her skin with maddening slowness, but always stopping just short of where she needed him most. She writhed beneath him, beautiful in her desperation, her hips constantly rolling up in search of something he refused to give.

When he finally sank his teeth into the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, she let out a broken moan. “ Tom .”

There it was. He kept her legs spread wide, leaving more marks as he worked along the inside of her thighs, each one a deliberate act of torture. “Please-” she gasped when he bit down again, this time gently. “I need you.”

The plea went straight to his cock. He pulled away just enough to meet her eyes, a smirk playing at his lips. “Do you?” He asked in a soft, taunting whisper. Her breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, lips parting as she frowned. “You’re teasing me?” “You deserve to be punished,” he said, voice low, “for ever doubting that you deserve to be happy.” The words were both a comfort and a threat. And Lilia knew, without a doubt, that she would love whatever came next.

She bit her lower lip. “Please fuck me.”

Tom arched a brow, amused. “You’re quite polite when you want to be, hmm?” He peeled off his pyjamas and boxers in one slow, deliberate motion.

Her cheeks warmed further , but her gaze dropped immediately, drawn to the sight of him, hard and thick. She remembered the way he had stretched her open so perfectly before, and the memory alone made her throb with renewed need.

“Eyes up here.”

Her gaze snapped back to his, wide and filled with heat. The look they exchanged was electric, hunger mirrored in both of their eyes: unspoken, undeniable.

Tom reached for her wrists, gently but firmly pulling her arms above her head. He pinned them to the pillow with one hand, stretching her body out beneath him. The other braced by her head, caging her in. His eyes never left hers.

She felt completely exposed. Vulnerable. But not afraid. She trusted him, something she rarely gave.

“Remember…” He whispered, voice silky and low. “Be quiet, my dear.” She nodded, eager, breath catching.

And then, slowly , achingly slowly, his cock pressed against her entrance.

She gasped as he began to push in, inch by inch. Her toes curled. Her back arched. Her nails dug into her palms as he filled her, stretching her open with exquisite precision. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, hold him to her chest, but he kept her hands firmly pinned.

When he finally sank in to the hilt, she could barely breathe. He was so deep it stole every coherent thought from her mind. But he didn’t move.

He stayed perfectly still inside her, eyes on her face, watching every shift, every subtle expression as she squirmed beneath him, desperate to move, to feel. Her hips lifted, seeking friction. Her brows furrowed, lips parted in a silent plea.

“Shh,” he soothed, almost mockingly. Then he pulled out, slow, excruciating, and slid back in again at the same pace. Her walls clenched around him, aching for more, and though her hips bucked, it was useless against the strength with which he held her down. He moved with calculated control, giving her only what he wanted, just enough to keep her spiraling, never enough to let her fall.

Eventually, a small, pitiful whine escaped her lips. “What is it?” He asked, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. His hand trailed lower, down to her throat where he held her firmly, not harsh, just enough to remind her who was in control. “Harder,” she whispered, broken and breathless.

Tom drank her in, savoring the sight of Lilia undone, completely out of control and entirely at his mercy. “This is a punishment, Lilia,” he reminded her, voice low and deceptively soft. She whimpered louder this time, a desperate sound that made him pause mid-thrust. He raised a brow. She writhed beneath him, like she was in pain from the sheer denial.

“If you make another sound,” he said, calm and cold and devastating, “I’ll stop this. And I won’t fuck you until you learn to stay quiet.” Her lips parted in shock. And fear- real fear, because she knew if he left her like this, she wouldn't be able to take it . She swallowed, then nodded quickly.

“Good,” he murmured. “Now, you’ll take whatever I give you.” He resumed his pace, deep, slow thrusts that made her whole body quake. She bit down on her lip, hard, to keep herself from crying out. Then his hand left her throat, trailing down between them, finding her clit.

She came instantly.

Her eyes squeezed shut as pleasure consumed her, a flood of ecstasy that left her breathless and trembling. She felt like she was floating, disoriented and weightless, like he had taken everything from her and rebuilt her with his touch.

He didn’t stop.

He kept going, slow, controlled, merciless, until she came again. And again. Until her body was boneless beneath him, trembling with overstimulation, completely wrecked and his.

Only then did he finally let himself go.

He pulled out and came all over her inner thighs. A gasp escaped her lips, both from the slight sting as he withdrew and from the unexpected heat of his release. 

This was, undoubtedly, the best way to wake up in the morning.

Tom eventually released her wrists, and with a wave of his hand, cleaned up the stickiness he’d left behind. He lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him. She rested her head on his shoulder, chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. His hand brushed gently over the scars on her back. She flinched. but didn’t pull away. Instead, she burrowed even closer into his arms.

His heart swelled.

“Are you alright?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She smiled and nodded. “Amazing. I feel like I’m in the clouds.”

He chuckled softly. “You have an interesting way of putting things into perspective.”

She pulled away slightly to look at his face. They were both sweaty from the sex but as was the norm with Tom, he always looked annoyingly handsome no matter what state he was in. “I feel good,” she whispered. “Happy.” Like things were right where they were meant to be when he held her in his arms like this.

He wasn’t used to hearing the word “happy” in proximity to him. It didn’t fit. But with her, it didn’t feel like a lie. His eyes softened and he placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “You and I, I’m pretty sure we are meant to be together.” 

Those words were heavier for her. She knew what admitting it would entail: that she liked a young Voldemort who was nothing like the monster she had known. And yet, denying it had done nothing but bring pain for both of them. She liked him. Way more than she had ever liked anyone before in her life. Not even Theo. Right here, right now, Lilia trusted Tom more than anyone else. He was the only one with whom she had shared her pain, her fears, her burden.

The disconnect was crystal clear in her mind: he was not a young Voldemort. He was simply Tom Riddle.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she wished she could get closer to him. “Do you believe in fate, Tom?” She asked quietly, leaving a small kiss on his shoulder.

“I don’t have an opinion about fate,” he replied.

She nodded slowly. “Well, I believe in it. And I think that fate brought me to you for a reason.” She smiled and pulled away. “Fate brought me to you to let you know that you have an amazing cock.” 

The teasing words took him by surprise before he smirked wickedly. “Oh? So fate is not interested in anything beyond my cock?”

She shook her head, grinning now. “No. Fate is quite picky like that. It has tunnel vision.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Tunnel vision?”

Her eyes widened slightly. This was a slip of her tongue. “I mean, fate focuses only on one thing.”

“My cock.”

She nodded innocently. “Hmm. Then I should thank fate for bringing you to me.” His smirk softened into a genuine smile.

Just then, a voice broke through their post-sex bliss.

“Lilia, is Tom with you right now?”

They both froze.

Evangeline.

She practically recoiled from his embrace, eyes wide and cheeks heating up. Her hands scrambled around for her nightgown, which she quickly slipped on her body. “N-No!” Damn it. Why did she stutter? Tom stared at her with an amused glint, leisurely pulling on his own pyjamas. 

“Right. And I was born yesterday. I know he’s with you. His shoes are right next to yours,” Eva retorted, voice amused.

She shook her head and hid her face in her hands. Tom chuckled, noticing how she tried to make herself small by hunching her shoulders.

“Morning, Selwyn,” he called out.

“Damn it, Riddle. I knew you were here.” 

There was a pause while Lilia tried to gather herself. Tom was enjoying this situation. He pulled away the drapes around her bed and got up, pyjamas hanging loosely on his lean frame. His hair was dishevelled and his cheeks were flushed, but he looked like he had had a good night’s sleep. Reluctantly, Lilia also got out of bed. 

Her body heated even more in embarrassment when she met Eva’s knowing eyes. “I just asked him to spend the night with me,” she mumbled an explanation.

“Right.” Eva smirked. “I must have imagined those little noises and your bed shaking just now.” 

Oh, Merlin.

Lilia buried her face in her hands as Eva strolled off into their shared bathroom with a wicked grin, likely already crafting a story to torture her with later. Celeste had somehow slept through this whole ordeal.

“I’m never showing my face again,” she muttered.

Tom got closer to her, slipping his hand into hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. “We can fake our deaths if you’d like,” he said lightly.

She gave him a withering glare. “You’d enjoy that too much.”

“Only the part where you’d still be mine afterward.”

Her cheeks burned again. But she didn’t let go of his hand.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The moment Lilia stepped out of the bathroom, still damp from her morning shower, she was met with looks- those unmistakable, cheeky looks from both her roommates.

Tom had already left. All that remained was Lilia, flushed from head to toe, and a trail of hickeys blooming along her neck and collarbones. Her muscles ached in the best way. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this relaxed.

“So…” Celeste began, smirking as Lilia all but bolted to the mirror to brush through her wet hair. Celeste hopped out of bed, shooting a quick look to Eva, who already had her villain grin on. “You made up with Tom.”

“I’d say so,” Eva added, “considering you were shaking the whole damn room with your morning activities.”

Lilia turned crimson. “You’re exaggerating, Eva!”

“Am I?” The blonde asked, brushing through her own hair with a dramatic toss. “I woke up because you were moaning.”

“I was trying to be quiet,” Lilia practically whined, face buried in her hands.

“Right. That’s why I could hear you so clearly.” 

“I can’t believe I slept through this!” Celeste gasped, as if she’d missed an award-winning show.

“That’s because you sleep like a log,” Eva shot back.

“Absolutely not! Icarus says I sleep lightly-”

“Does he say that when he wakes you up to fuck you?”

Celeste paused. “Wait… you’re right. He does say that when he wants morning sex.” She blinked. “How did I miss that?”

Lilia stayed quiet, braiding her hair in hopes they’d change the subject. No such luck.

“Lils, don’t think we forgot about you,” Eva said, closing in like a predator. “Give us the juicy details.”

“There are no juicy details!” She exclaimed. “I just… talked to Tom yesterday. About… things. He was understanding. He’s always understanding.” Her voice softened. “I just wanted to be in his arms. So I asked him to stay.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just want him inside you?”

Eva and Celeste burst out laughing as Lilia squeaked, “No! I mean- yes! But- no! Eva, drop it.”

“So how is he with you?” Celeste asked, grinning wickedly. “Is he rough?”

Lilia nearly choked.

“No,” Eva answered smoothly. “He wasn’t rough. He was… rhythmical.”

Rhythmical.

Lilia nearly died on the spot. Just the memory of those slow, deliberate thrusts, of being told to take what he gave her, made her body light up. She had to squeeze her thighs together under her robe. “He’s good,” she whispered.

“He’s more than good if he can make you sound like that,” Eva teased.

“Were we really that loud?” Lilia asked suddenly, panic creeping in. “Oh Merlin. We were. I should’ve been quieter. You were both in the room-”

“Please,” Eva waved her off. “Knowing Tom, I’m sure he did it on purpose. He could’ve used a silencing spell.”

Lilia froze. “That’s…”

“Uh huh,” Eva said, nodding along with Celeste. “He knew exactly what he was doing.”

Lilia couldn’t even think about Tom holding her down, fucking her so slow she nearly cried, on purpose, knowing full well she had to stay quiet.

That smug bastard.

And the worst part?

He had every reason to be.

Lilia wanted to bury herself under her blankets and never face him again.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, little man,” Lilia apologised while Caspian shook his head sympathetically. “He’s mad at you, Lil.” She groaned.

The niffler whose responsibility she had taken upon herself did not bother coming out. Not even to check the shiny coins that she was dangling in front of its burrow. It seemed that even creatures as small as nifflers held grudges fifteen times their size. And it wasn’t really at fault: Lilia had not been paying enough attention to the creature after everything that had happened with the Slytherins, Tom… 

“Come on.” She took out some shiny buttons she found after sneaking in the infirmary (What an odd place for students to lose their buttons) . No response. Not even a tiny, curious sniff.

“You’ll have to do better.” Caspian added while playing with a little bowtruckle. Just like Newt Scamander, her friend had the ability to put these shy little creatures at ease. 

“I know-” Her words cut off abruptly when the niffler lunged out of its burrow, immediately latching on to her ring.

Tom’s ring. The resurrection stone.

Her heart lurched violently. She pulled her hand back with more force than she thought herself capable of. “Hey!”

It did not relent. The little ball of fur held on tightly, trying to slip off the ring. “No, not this ring!” She exclaimed. Her voice trembled more than it should’ve. The niffler didn’t know what it meant. But she did. Somehow, that got the creature’s attention and it plopped back on the ground. It looked so dejected and annoyed that she instantly felt guilty. 

“Don’t side eye me like that,” she mumbled, offering some golden coins. The niffler simply looked away, huffing . “I know, I know, I am such a bad person. I’m sorry, I really am. I should have come seen you more often.” 

This time, it took a lot more coaxing, more patience, and more sugar coated words (and endless supplies of golden coins) for the niffler to nuzzle its snout in her hand again. She was about to get up, very satisfied before the creature jumped in her lap. She looked down at it with surprise. “No, you can’t come with me.” But it insisted, jumping onto her shoulder and tugging on her hair.

“Ouch,” she groaned and grimaced slightly. Its nails caught in the black strands.

“Oh Merlin. Caspian!” She called out.

The blonde guy was dealing with his own bowtruckle who held on to him like glue. “What is it?” He asked, approaching her with a bowtruckle on his arm.

“I think this little guy wants to come to the castle with me.” She dodged another one of its attempts to reach out for her ring when she gestured towards it. 

It would be absolutely disastrous for the resurrection stone to end up in the hands of a greedy niffler like this one. The thought was scary and absurd, yet funny. 

“And he keeps trying to steal my ring.” She glared at the ball of fur who glared right back. Her lips parted in surprise. “Do you see how he’s looking at me?” She exclaimed, scandalised.

Caspian laughed out loud before grinning at her. “Hey, you could just bring him in the castle.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Can you imagine the chaos he would create if he decided to go on a stealing rampage?”

“It’s exactly why you should bring him.”

“Absolutely not!” Lilia declared, pulling the creature off her shoulder again. The niffler blinked slowly. And- Was it on the verge of crying? Its eyes drooped before becoming glassier than ever and even its snout was downturned. 

Oh no. 

And that’s how she found herself back in the Room of Requirement, her Slytherin friends discussing dualling strategies around her, a small furry creature squirming under her robes, and the very obvious fact that she and Tom were on good terms again. Some would claim, excellent terms.

She’d slowly been welcomed back into the group, and she couldn’t quite put into words the relief or the quiet happiness it brought. She was also proud when she observed how they discussed their dualling practices, focusing on areas that needed improvement. They were future death eaters but they had taken her advice into consideration. They kept up with their daily practice even when she was not with them. 

It was different to be acknowledged. To be heard. To be seen.

She sat on one of the desks that had been pushed to the sides so that they could dual without obstructions. Her hand rested on her hip, holding the niffler in place while it rested in one of her robe’s inside pockets.

Their stances had improved, their spells were more creative than before. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing. They dabbled in dark magic. But so did she. 

Her eyes landed on Tom. 

Tall. Handsome. Strong. Warm. Extremely warm - 

She flushed, catching her mind drifting back to the way he’d held her. Pinned her down. Fucked her so slow it made her want to cry.

She was getting distracted. Again. 

“Lils, are you fucking Tom in your mind right now?” Eva’s teasing voice made her cheeks burn hotter.

“I’m not!” She responded defensively.

Eva had been dualling Tiernan, Abraxas was with Icarus, Celeste with Tom.

Celeste turned around to wink at Lilia who gaped in shock.

“Oh yes,” Icarus added, an annoying grin on his face. “The famous morning incident.” He chuckled.

“You know, Lil, I didn’t pin you down as someone who gets off on being heard,” Tiernan commented. 

“What-” Her jaw dropped lower than ever, cheeks redder than a tomato. “That’s not true!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Celeste chimed in, twisting her wand. “I heard something that morning, and let me tell you, I assumed someone was either being murdered or thoroughly ruined.”

“I wasn’t that loud!” Lilia practically shrieked. She paused and narrowed her eyes. “You were asleep.”

Abraxas didn’t look up from cleaning his wand, but he muttered just loud enough, “The shaking bedposts disagree.”

Icarus snorted. “And so does the chandelier. The poor thing hasn’t stopped swaying since.”

Lilia looked like she wanted to evaporate.

Eva mock-gasped, hand on her chest. “You’re telling me Miss ‘I just wanted comfort’ was actually Lilia screams-a-lot Rousseau?”

“I did not scream!”

Tom, quiet, calm, unbothered, spoke for the first time, lips quirking lazily. “She tried her best to be quiet.”

Lilia turned to him, eyes wide in horror. “Tom,” she hissed.

He raised a brow, all smug amusement and no shame. “You failed.”

“I- You-!” Words were no longer forming.

“Oh Salazar,” Eva wheezed, practically doubling over. “I’m going to be talking about this at your wedding.”

“I’m not marrying him!”

“I don’t know,” Tiernan drawled. “If you moaned his name enough times, it is like a long-term commitment.”

Lilia turned a shade of red usually reserved for cursed potions.

Icarus jumped in, grinning. “I’d say she probably sounded emotionally invested. Maybe even spiritually.”

“I hate all of you,” she said, face buried in her hands. “You’re demons.”

“Demons who don’t get frisky first thing in the morning,” Abraxas added with a deadpan.

“Frankly, I’m proud,” Eva said, wiping a fake tear of laughter from her eye.

Celeste tried to sound supportive, but her voice cracked with amusement. “To be fair, Lils, it’s not like you had any restraint that morning.”

Tom hummed in agreement. “She did ask me to go harder.”

A gasp escaped the group like a collective punch to the chest.

Eva collapsed backward. Celeste covered her face.

Tiernan grinned. “Oh my- Tom, you’re actually evil.”

“I am,” he replied, smooth and smug, eyes fixed on Lilia, “but only for her.”

“Someone please obliviate me,” Lilia groaned.

As if things weren’t chaotic enough, she felt the niffler squirming in her pocket. She glanced down. And froze. Her robe had shifted, and a tiny snout poked out, pointed directly at something across the room. She followed its gaze. Normally, no one wore jewelry during practice. But today, Celeste had a small golden brooch pinned into her hair. Gleaming like a beacon.

“Lilia, what’s-” Icarus began.

She cut him off with an annoyed click of her tongue just as the niffler launched itself from her robe. With a snap reflex, she seized her wand and flicked it toward Celeste. The brooch sailed through the air and landed neatly in her palm. The niffler bolted after it like a glitter-obsessed missile.

“Hey, no!” Lilia yelped, holding the brooch out of reach. The niffler clawed at her legs. “This is not what we agreed on!” Was that little gremlin glaring at her? It leapt at her robes and she held it out at arm’s length.

“Stop looking at me like that. You’re rude.” It tilted its head, distracted by her ring.

Her blood ran cold. It made a move for her hand, but she yanked it back. “The ring is off-limits,” she snapped.

The niffler paused, eyes narrowing. Then, they turned glassy, pitiful. She gasped. “You tricked me earlier!”

It let out the smallest, most innocent squeak.

“No. I see right through you. You’re a little demon.” She narrowed her eyes.

It huffed and turned back to the brooch. With a flick of her wand, it vanished. The niffler froze, then marched over to her desk, climbed up, and turned its back to her. Was it… sulking? Her jaw dropped. “Unbelievable.”

Then she froze.

She’d forgotten about the others in the room.

She turned slowly. Every single one of them looked like they were seconds away from exploding. Even Tom was biting back a grin.

She realised how it must have looked. She was talking to a niffler, a creature who obviously couldn’t speak. She must have looked insane. Her stomach knotted slightly. Did Tom find her stupid for that?

“What the hell, Lils?” Eva asked, barely holding it together.

“What is that thing?” Icarus asked, amused.

“A niffler. I-” She groaned before continuing. “He wanted to come in the castle, so I… brought him in.” She looked back at the creature who was still sulking. “He’s a thief.” At that, it glared at her before looking away again. 

“That thing understands your words!” Tiernan commented, barely holding back a laugh.

“They’re clever. But like I said, also thieves. They love shiny objects.” She glanced at Celeste apologetically.

“My brooch.” The brunette realised.

“I’m sorry about that.” Lilia glanced at Tom, who was, surprisingly, smiling at her so wide his dimple was popping out.

“So… the ring is off limits to this thing, huh?” Icarus asked, grinning like a madman.

That caught her off guard. “Obviously,” she mumbled.

“Right. So, you moan his name and you’re possessive over his ring. Tell me again why you’re not marrying Tom?” Tiernan asked.

“There will be no marriage!” Lilia squeaked.

Tom was not insulted, not in the least. As Celeste approached the niffler, pulling a coin from her pocket to tempt him back, Tom casually slipped an arm around Lilia’s waist and pulled her close.

She bit her lower lip. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you? Talking and arguing with a niffler.”

Tom’s chest tightened slightly when he saw the familiar flash of self-doubt cross her face. He tilted his head slightly, giving her a faint smile. “Crazy? Never. Adorable? Yes.” With that, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling back. 

“You are so cute I want to tuck you away in my pocket.” His smile widened.

Her heart skipped a beat and she could not fight the blush rising on her cheeks. “You’re just saying that-”

He interrupted her. “No, I’m not. I don’t say things I don’t mean. So, trust me when I say that you are the most precious and adorable little thing.” She melted. She hugged him, hiding her face in his chest, heart racing.

For once, she didn’t feel like a girl carrying a hundred secrets.

She just felt like his.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

As the weekend started, Lilia found herself in the male dorms along with the rest of her friends. Since it was a Friday night, they decided to have fun by playing a little game of truth or dare. She observed the room she was in, the dorm that Tom shared with Tiernan and Abraxas.

Each side of the room showed the personalities of the three.

Tiernan’s bed was messy and books were scattered on his table randomly. Abraxas’ and Tom’s beds were neat and tidy, just like their desks. Their books were stacked together in an orderly pile. There was an ashtray on Tom’s table, but it looked like it hadn’t been used in a while.

“Ogling the bed where you want to fuck Tom, Lils?” Eva asked, a mischievous grin on her face.

That snapped Lilia out of her trance and she gaped at her friend, cheeks heating up again. “Not at all!”

She had become the target of all their jokes now. All because she had made a little noise. But she had tried her best not to! And no one was making fun of Tom, it was just her. She glared at Tom, who shrugged innocently.

“This is all your fault,” she whisper-yelled.

“My fault? I asked you to be quiet. You couldn’t,” he countered lightly.

Her glare deepened. “But you know I can’t stay quiet!”

He smirked faintly before leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I know, my dear.”

Icarus pretended to throw up. “Eww Salazar, now we have to see Riddle being all lovey-dovey. I should keep a bucket with me at all times to throw up.”

Celeste tutted and smacked him on the arm. The niffler had warmed up to her very quickly and now sat perched on her shoulder. “Let him be!” She smiled softly before leaning in to whisper, “Lilia and Tom are perfect for each other.”

“Alright, everyone, gather around!” Tiernan called out. They all sat down in a circle on the carpet. In the middle were seven cups of firewhiskey. Lilia’s nose scrunched.

“You don’t like whiskey, sweetheart?” Tiernan asked innocently. “Too bad.”

“Where did you get this?” She asked, eyeing the liquid with caution.

“I have my ways,” he replied mysteriously. He probably sneaked out to Hogsmeade and tricked his way into getting a bottle.

Icarus took his glass and gulped it down, wincing. “Oh, that burns so good.”

“Drink up, ladies and gentlemen,” Tiernan encouraged. Everyone grabbed a glass, even Tom and Abraxas, who looked comically serious.

When Lilia took her first sip, she grimaced. Firewhiskey tasted like shit. She took another sip anyway. Next to her, Tom’s face barely changed as he drank. Their knees brushed together, and she blushed like a schoolgirl.

Damn him.

The game started off simple. Eva went first, choosing truth.

“Have you ever used a love potion?” Celeste asked.

Eva sipped from her glass and rolled her eyes. “No, but I did make one. I just never gave it to anyone.”

There was a beat of silence before Abraxas, surprising everyone, volunteered next. “Truth,” he said coolly.

“Do you actually like us?” Tiernan asked.

Abraxas blinked. “More than I care to admit.”

Everyone turned slowly toward him.

“What the fuck?” Eva said. “Why did you open up so… easily?”

Tom did not comment about her swearing, equally taken aback by Malfoy’s honesty. 

Tiernan grinned. “Oh, yeah. About that.” He held up the now half-empty firewhiskey bottle. “I may or may not have added the tiniest drop of Veritaserum. Just a drop. Barely a trace.”

“You- What?” Celeste said, eyes wide.

“I knew this was suspiciously fun,” Icarus muttered.

Lilia’s heart skipped a beat. She stiffened.

Tom was watching the reactions unfold, amused, completely unaware of the way Lilia’s fingers tightened around her glass. She didn’t let it show, not really. But she leaned slightly toward him, just enough that their arms brushed. Just enough that he might feel the warmth of her skin, just enough to anchor herself to something safe.

He glanced at her, almost instinctively, and gave her knee a light squeeze. She let out a slow breath.

The game continued.

The niffler found a coin somewhere (no one knew from where) and was now rolling it around on the carpet like a cat with a toy. Occasionally, it huffed when it bumped into someone’s foot.

When the bottle pointed at Lilia, Tiernan grinned.

“Truth,” she said cautiously.

“Who was your first kiss?”

She blinked. “Theo,” she answered before she could stop herself. Her eyes widened slightly. It felt like the name had slipped straight out of her mouth before she even had time to think about it. Like her brain and her tongue had lost contact for a second.

“Theo?” Eva asked. “As in-” She paused. “Oh-”

Lilia quickly interrupted her. “He was… someone I knew back in France. We were friends. He kissed me at a ball after getting drunk off champagne.”

There was a pause.

“Oh, that’s kind of romantic,” Celeste said.

Tom didn’t say a word. But Lilia could feel the tension radiating from him. The way his thumb stilled on her leg. How his jaw was just slightly too tight. She reached for her drink again.

There was a strange buzz in her head now. Her tongue felt too loose. Her body too warm. It wasn’t just the firewhiskey, she knew the feeling of magic when it seeped in like this. The drop of Veritaserum had taken effect. Only a trace, but it made it harder to hold her words in check. To sort out what was safe to say and what wasn’t.

She’d have to be careful.

The dares grew more unhinged after that.

Icarus was dared to serenade Abraxas with a dramatic love ballad (he did). Celeste had to reenact their Charms professor having a breakdown (she did). Tiernan got dared to duel Tom one-handed (he did not).

Everyone was laughing: red-cheeked, tipsy, and warm.

Then the dorm door creaked open. Everyone turned.

Nikolai leaned in through the gap, blinking at the room full of sprawled-out students. His eyes landed on the niffler. “Well, well,” he grinned. “There you are, you little menace.” The niffler squeaked. 

“Lilia,” he said, smirking. “You didn’t tell me you smuggled your pet gremlin into Slytherin territory.”

Lilia laughed nervously. “I didn’t think it’d come up.”

Tom stiffened beside her.

Only Nikolai and her Ravenclaw friends knew she’d been looking after the creature. And he knew that. And still said it in front of everyone.

“Join us,” Tiernan said, patting the floor. “We need more chaos.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Nikolai plopped into the circle like he belonged there, exchanging a knowing grin with Icarus and a wink with Lilia.

Tom was silent.

The next few rounds were ridiculous. Someone dared Eva to hex her own eyebrows off (she threatened murder). Nikolai was dared to down two glasses and confess who he’d most like to kiss. He pointed at Abraxas. “For the drama.” Everyone cheered.

And then Tiernan said, “Your turn to ask, Nikolai.” He didn’t sound like he was struggling with honesty at all.

Nikolai’s eyes glinted as he looked at Lilia. It was now her turn.

A beat passed. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Truth,” she said, hesitantly.

He smiled. “What did Theo give you for your birthday during your fourth year?”

The room was silent.

Lilia stared at him.

The others waited. Some with curious expressions, some with amused smiles.

But something cold slithered down her spine.

She couldn’t explain it. There was something about the way Nikolai had asked the question, too casual, too familiar. Like he wasn’t just teasing. Like he knew something he shouldn’t.

Had she ever brought up Theo with him?

She couldn’t remember.

Her gut twisted. That question… It was too specific. Too right.

She laughed, but it came out tight as she pretended to know about the time she shared bits and pieces of her moments with her first love. “You’re mixing things up, Nik. That never happened.”

Her voice cracked. Just barely.

No one noticed.

Except Tom.

And in the pit of her stomach, Lilia felt it.

Oh shit.

Chapter Text

When the game ended, Lilia quickly walked out, muttering something about needing air. But her eyes locked on one person. “Nik, I need to talk to you.”

Both she and Nikolai had been drinking, and while tipsy, they both picked up on how serious this conversation was going to be.

“Lead the way,” Nikolai muttered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Tom’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking when Lilia didn’t look back. She walked out without hesitation, Nikolai following behind. The bastard even winked at him before slipping through the door. Abraxas was the only one who caught the exchange while the others were still laughing, cleaning up the remains of the game. He gave Tom’s shoulder a light squeeze.

“You know how Wilfred is,” Abraxas muttered.

Tom’s tone was sharp. “What the fuck does Lilia have to say to him ?”

His posture was stiff, barely restrained.

Abraxas exhaled through his nose. “Go find out.”

Lilia led Nikolai down the corridor, turning into a quiet corner of the common room before she faced him. He stopped a few feet away, standing tall, hands in his pockets. His smile... it seemed more sinister than she remembered.

Was it the firewhiskey? The Veritaserum?

She couldn’t place it. But her tongue still felt too loose from the game. Her thoughts kept slipping sideways. “How do you know about Theo?” She asked bluntly.

Nikolai raised a brow, almost amused. “He’s your first love.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I never told you that.”

He shrugged. “You did. How else would I know?”

She studied him carefully. Something in her gut twisted. “I don’t remember ever saying that.”

He stepped closer. His lips curved up in a faint smirk. “We all have our little secrets, don’t we, Lilia?”

Her breath caught. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back casually, stretching his arms like this was nothing more than a hallway chat. “You’re not the only one hiding things.”

Her blood ran cold. “What am I hiding?”

He tilted his head. “Secrets that could ruin everything you’ve built here, I imagine.”

The casual way he said it made her stomach knot. Maybe it was the Veritaserum still dragging the truth out of him. Maybe he wanted her to know he was watching.

She hated how much it worked.

“I don’t like riddles,” she muttered.

He gave her an almost mocking smile. “Then you probably shouldn’t be so close to one.”

And with that, he turned and walked off, leaving her shaken, breathless, and alone with the weight of a thousand racing thoughts.

Lilia was fully aware of how the foundations of every relationship she had built in this time would crumble if the truth was revealed. A time traveller from 1998 who held the knowledge of the future in her hands. 

The sister of the boy who was hunted down from the moment he was born for being the chosen one of a prophecy he had no control over.

The girl who, despite knowing the atrocities of his future self, fell so deeply for the person who would one day, be the cause of her demise.

Her chest tightened painfully. If her time travel had already happened by the time Voldemort rose to power, didn’t that mean he had tortured and killed her knowing exactly who she was?

She started shaking slightly. 

Were they doomed like this? Would something happen to her, forcing her to leave him alone? Would that become the reason he’d spiral into that darkness? Had it already happened?

Was it an endless time loop?

Her head spun, and tears filled her eyes. She rubbed them furiously, but a sob escaped before she could hold it back. How cruel could fate be to her? To him ?

“Lilia.” 

Tom’s voice cut through the fog, anchoring her. He approached her in long strides, hands instinctively reaching out to pull her against him.

“Tom,” she croaked weakly. Her arms wrapped tightly around him and she buried her face in his chest, sobbing softly. 

Tom’s arms wrapped easily around her shaking frame, holding her close while she cried. He felt like he could not breathe when she broke down in his arms like this. It never felt right. The sight of her tears, filled with pain and secrets, made his heart twist in agony. 

Despite his curiosity, he let her cry, giving her the time and space she needed before opening up to him. With her, he had learned patience. She processed her emotions like a dam holding back water: too much pressure, and it all came spilling out. She was often too harsh for her own good and part of him always wondered what made her that way. 

Lilia cried until she could no longer muster any more tears. She sniffled and pulled away to look up at Tom. He gently brushed away the damp tear streaks on her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Shh.”

She didn’t argue. Not this time. By now, she knew how much he hated when she apologized for simply feeling.

It warmed her. Broke her.

How could he ever hurt her when he was so… tender with her? That did not make sense. 

“What’s going on in your mind, Lilia?” He asked quietly, observing the way her eyes took in every feature of his face.

“I like you a lot,” she blurted out. Her cheeks warmed. The faint trace of Veritaserum still in her system pulled the truth from her lips faster than she could think.

Tom’s brows drew together. There was a softness in his expression, but it was laced with confusion. “Is that why you were crying?” 

She nodded and hugged him again.

“Is that a bad thing?” He asked, genuinely worried. Why in Merlin’s name would her feelings for him cause her so much pain?

“I like you too,” he reassured softly. “A lot.” His hand rubbed soothing circles down her back. Maybe that hadn’t been clear, despite the kisses, despite the way he held her like she was everything.

Lilia nodded against his chest. Tom liked her the way she liked him. He wouldn’t hurt her voluntarily. That didn’t make the pain vanish. But it quieted the storm.

His arms were her safest place. They banished every awful thought until all she wanted was to melt into him and forget the rest of the world.

“Stay the night with me?” She asked timidly. He smiled faintly. “Always.”

They returned to her bedroom in silence, the kind of silence that felt natural between them. Not cold or uncomfortable, but settled , like the pause at the end of a long sentence.

Lilia closed the door behind them, her body heavy with the weight of the day. Her limbs ached with exhaustion, and her heart still fluttered from everything that had unraveled: her tears, her truths, her fears. Tom stood by her bed, not saying anything. Not demanding, not even expectant. Just there. Solid. Steady. Like an anchor she hadn’t realized she was still clinging to.

Together, they kicked off their shoes and peeled off their outer robes, letting the fabric fall wherever it wanted. Neither of them made a move to change. Their uniforms were wrinkled, sleeves creased and hems untucked, but they didn’t care. It felt like them somehow- tired and messy and real.

Lilia climbed into bed first, the sheets cool against her skin. She shifted to the side, leaving just enough space for him to slide in next to her, not because she needed to, but because she wanted him to fill it.

Tom joined her silently, and with a flick of his wand, the velvet drapes drew closed around them. The outside world disappeared in an instant.

And just like that, they were cocooned in their own little world again.

She leaned into him without hesitation, pressing her body close. Her face found the familiar warmth of the crook of his neck, and her fingers curled into the front of his shirt like she never wanted to let go. His arm came around her easily, settling around her waist, his palm warm and steady where it rested above her hip.

His touch calmed her in a way nothing else could.

She inhaled slowly, letting herself feel the rhythm of his breath, the soft thud of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

“Better?” He asked quietly, his voice barely more than a murmur. She nodded against his chest. “Much.”

For a while, neither of them spoke. His fingers traced slow, gentle circles into her side, like he was grounding her without even trying.

But she could feel it, the way his thoughts were building. The tension behind the stillness. She closed her eyes, waiting. Then, finally, he asked it.

“Why did you need to talk to Nikolai?”

Her body stilled. Just slightly. But enough. He felt it.

She swallowed. “He said something I didn’t like.” Her voice was soft. Honest but vague. Tom didn’t press her, not right away. There was a long pause where he said nothing at all. 

Then, with a quiet certainty, he said, “You don’t trust him.” It wasn’t a question.

Lilia’s fingers tightened slightly around his shirt. “No,” she admitted. Not anymore.

That was all she said. Tom exhaled through his nose and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I don’t either.”

Another pause followed. Longer this time. The kind that came with something harder to say.

“And Theo?” He asked, his voice lower now.

Lilia’s breath caught. He wasn’t angry. His tone didn’t change. But she could feel the weight of the question settle between them like fog.

“He was your first kiss.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at him.

He was watching her. Calm, but too still. His jaw was tight, his mouth unreadable, and there was something quiet in his eyes.

“Yes,” she said softly. “A long time ago.” He didn’t react at first. Didn’t speak. But she saw it, the subtle shift in his expression. Not hurt. Not jealous. Not exactly. Just... focused. Guarded. Listening for things she hadn’t said yet.

“And you loved him,” he said after a moment. Not as a question. Just fact. “I did,” she whispered. The honesty in her voice tasted bitter.

Still, he didn’t speak.

Lilia’s chest tightened. She searched his face, trying to find something, anything, that would tell her what he was thinking. “But I don’t anymore,” she added quickly. “I care about him, I do. I always will. But it’s not like that. Not now.”

He remained quiet, eyes locked with hers, unreadable as ever.

“Tom?” She asked gently. Her voice was softer this time. “Talk to me.”

Lilia watched him carefully as he looked down at her, his eyes unreadable, steady, but darker now. The mention of Theo hadn’t made him explode, hadn’t even made him raise his voice… but she knew Tom Riddle too well by now. Silence was never nothing.

He brushed a strand of her hair back, tucking it gently behind her ear.

“I don’t like hearing another man's name when I’m holding you like this,” he said quietly, like the words were being dragged from somewhere deep. Her breath caught at the weight of his voice, velvety, low, and simmering just beneath control. “Especially not one who clearly meant something to you.”

She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to see him better. His face was still calm, but she could feel the tension in his posture, the way his fingers pressed slightly firmer against her side. Not angry- just watching and waiting.

“I’m not angry,” he added, almost like he was reminding himself. “Not really.” She studied him for a moment before asking, “Then what?”

He let out a soft breath through his nose. “I just want to know…” he began, his voice quieter now, more intimate, “…how much of you still belongs to him.”

Her heart clenched at the question. At the vulnerability hidden beneath the edge of his jealousy. “None,” she said softly. “Not anymore.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he let his hand trail slowly down her side, fingers skimming the curve of her waist like he was memorising it all over again. Then, finally, he spoke.

“Good,” he murmured, “because I don’t share.”

The words weren’t forceful. But they landed straight in her heart. There was no threat in them. Just certainty.

Her skin tingled beneath his touch.

“Tom…” She whispered.

He leaned in slowly, his hand still resting on her hip, and pressed a kiss just below her ear. She shivered as his lips lingered there, warm breath ghosting along her skin.

“I want you to forget him,” he murmured against her neck. He moved slowly, deliberately, kissing the sensitive spot beneath her jaw. Then lower, along her throat, leaving behind a path of heat.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “And I want you to feel that.”

Her breath hitched when his hand slid beneath the hem of her blouse, fingertips skimming the skin of her stomach. His movements weren’t rushed, he was still so controlled, so careful, like he wanted to take his time wrecking her.

“Tom,” She breathed again, already dizzy with want.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. His expression was calm, but his gaze was molten. Possessive. His voice stayed low, almost reverent.

“Want me to touch you, Lilia?” The question, so unexpected and intimate, made her heart lurch. She nodded immediately. But he didn’t move. “I need to hear it,” he said softly. “From you.”

Her voice shook. “Yes. Touch me.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, the barest trace of a smile. But it wasn’t smug, it was something deeper and warmer.

He leaned in again and kissed her, not hurriedly, not hungrily. It was slow, consuming, full of unspoken things. Like he was reminding her who he was. And reminding himself that she was right here, in his arms.

That she had chosen him.

She was throbbing in need already. His lips trailed down her neck again, sucking on the sensitive skin to leave behind dark marks.

In a swift motion, he was hovering on top of her, his knees trapping her against the bed. His hands caged her head in and his bites became rougher the more he marked her skin. She could feel the moment the gentle possession in his touch turned harsh, jealous. Her skin tingled in pleasure. The thought that he was losing his composure over the mention of another man made her feel important, valued.

His lips crashed on hers again, more brutal and dominating than before. She moaned against his mouth, anticipation building in her stomach. He nipped her earlobe, sucking gently to make her gasp and squirm.

“You’re mine,” he growled, the words almost feral against her skin. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she whispered breathlessly, her fingers curling into his shirt. But that wasn’t enough for him.

Lifting her wrists, he pinned them above her head with one hand, forcing her back against the bed. His other hand dragged slowly down her body, stopping just above the waistband of her skirt.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m yours,” she repeated. “I'm all yours.”

That did something to him. He kissed her again, messy, desperate, and then pulled back to tear her blouse open, the buttons scattering across the sheets. She gasped, body arching up into his as his hands roamed her now bare skin, rougher than they had ever been before.

“So pretty like this,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Laid out for me.”

She was trembling when he pulled her skirt down and spread her legs apart, settling between them like he belonged there. His mouth found her inner thigh, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh until she whimpered.

“You think he could touch you like this?” He whispered darkly, licking the mark he left. 

She shook her head frantically, moaning as his fingers brushed over her soaked panties.

“I don’t want anyone else,” she gasped. “Just you.”

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

“Good,” he breathed, dragging the fabric aside. “Because I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t even remember his name.” She didn’t even notice when his clothes came off. Her body was too busy burning for him, too wrecked by the weight of his hands, his voice, his jealousy.

And then he was inside her.

The stretch made her cry out, his pace immediately brutal, each thrust deep and claiming. Her back arched, wrists still pinned, the drag of his cock too much and yet not enough . He leaned in close, lips brushing her ear.

“You feel that?” He rasped. “That’s mine. Every fucking inch of you.”

She sobbed his name, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. He groaned low in his throat, the sound broken, like she was tearing something raw out of him. “Think he could’ve made you feel this full? This fucked out?”

"No!" She cried out. “ I’m yours. ”

He groaned again, thrusts growing even rougher, the bed creaking under them. Her body trembled violently beneath his, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

“I’ll make you remember this,” he murmured, teeth grazing her throat. “Make you feel me for days.”

He fucked her until her body was shaking, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, not from pain, but from how much she felt. How deeply he was buried in her, how thoroughly he was claiming every part of her.

And when she came, it hit her like a tidal wave: violent, blinding, and his. His name ripped from her throat, and that was when he finally let go, holding her tight as he spilled inside her, whispering, “Mine.”

They collapsed together, still tangled, still breathless.

And for a long moment, there was nothing else but the sound of their hearts beating in sync.

But Tom wasn’t done with her. Not even close.

With a lazy flick of his hand, the air shimmered. The silencing charm fell into place, soft and deliberate, like he’d been planning this all along. “No more interruptions,” he murmured, lips brushing her temple. “Now I can hear every sound you make… properly.”

She blinked, still catching her breath, still trembling beneath him.

He was already moving again.

His hands slid down her thighs, slow and assured, before guiding her legs back around his waist. His mouth ghosted over hers in a teasing kiss, featherlight and maddening.

“I told you,” he whispered, voice low and thick with need. “I’m going to make you feel me for days.”

And he did.

He moved inside her again, deeper this time, slower. Each thrust was careful, intentional. Drawn out just long enough to leave her gasping, just hard enough to make her legs shake. He was everywhere, his lips on her neck, his fingers tracing patterns into her skin, his voice in her ear like a spell being cast over and over.

“Look at you,” he breathed, watching the way her body responded to every push of his hips. “Falling apart so easily for me.” She whimpered, eyes fluttering shut. He leaned closer.

“No. Eyes on me.”

She obeyed. Barely.

And he smiled. That same smug, devastating smirk. Like he already knew exactly how many times he was going to break her before the night was over.

“I could fuck you like this forever,” he whispered, dragging his mouth along her jaw. “Would you let me? Would you let me ruin you until you forget every name but mine?” She nodded, breathless. “Good girl.”

He kept going.

Again. And again.

Slow. Deep. Merciless in how gentle it felt, how overwhelming. How completely he had taken control of her body, her mind, her soul. Each orgasm hit harder than the last, until she was shaking in his arms, tears slipping down her cheeks from the sheer intensity of it all.

And all the while, he held her. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

“Mine.”

“So perfect like this.” 

“You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Maybe that was the cruelest thing of all- how true it felt.

And every time she broke beneath him, he kissed her like it was the first time.

As if he’d never get tired of it.

As if he’d never, ever let her go.

By the time he finally slowed, still moving inside her in those deep, lingering strokes that made her whimper, she had nothing left. Her body was spent. Her legs refused to stop shaking. Her throat was raw from moaning his name so many times it didn’t even sound like a word anymore.

And when she came again, it was almost silent, just a breathy cry, her nails digging weakly into his shoulders as her entire body convulsed beneath him.

He followed moments later, pressing as deep into her as he could, gasping her name like it physically hurt to let it go. Afterwards, he didn’t pull away. He stayed. One hand tangled in her hair. The other curled protectively around her waist. His lips brushed her forehead once, then again.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, softer this time.

But Lilia didn’t reply. She was already asleep. She was curled into his chest, utterly boneless, skin warm with sweat and flushed from pleasure, her breath slowed into a soft, steady rhythm.

He stared down at her, watching the tension melt off her face, her lips slightly parted. There was a small tear still clinging to the corner of her lashes.

His chest tightened. She had never looked more beautiful.

He pulled the blanket gently over her sleeping form before burying his face in her hair.

Chapter Text

Light filtered in slowly, almost golden through the drawn drapes.

Lilia stirred against the sheets, her body sore in ways she hadn't expected. Her muscles ached. Her thighs trembled with the memory of the night before, how many times he'd pulled a release from her, how deeply he'd buried himself inside her until she could no longer think.

A groan slipped from her lips as she turned onto her stomach, burying her face into the pillow. 

Merlin. 

She wasn't even sure how she'd made it through the night. All she remembered was his voice, low and commanding, whispering filthy things into her ear while her body shattered around him. The way he had held her through every wave. The way he never once let her go.

The mattress shifted beside her.

Tom was already awake, propped up on one elbow, hair messy and eyes sharp as they took her in. He didn't say anything right away, just dragged his fingers slowly down her spine, tracing over the faint red lines he'd left behind. He took in the sight of her back, scarred in almost all its entirety.

His nails scratched lightly at her skin, lazy and rhythmic, back and forth like he was calming something inside himself. Her skin was not smooth, but it was uniquely her.

She sighed, content despite the soreness. She did not feel the urge to hide from him anymore. "You're scratching my back." 

"You're breathing," he replied smoothly, voice still rough from sleep. "That means you survived."

She cracked one eye open and glared at him half-heartedly. "Barely." 

"I did warn you," he murmured, leaning down to brush a soft kiss to the base of her neck. "I would fuck you until you forgot his name."

Her breath caught. He still had the audacity to sound smug. "You did."

"Mmm." He nipped her shoulder gently. "I always keep my promises."

She shifted, groaning again when her thighs tensed. "I'm sore, Tom."

His hand slid lower, massaging slow, thoughtful circles along the small of her back. "Good." 

She snorted into the pillow. "Sadist." 

"You like it." 

"I'm beginning to regret trusting you with my body." 

"You didn't trust me. You begged," he corrected with a smirk. "And I obliged."

She groaned. Her hand reached back lazily, searching for him. When she found his wrist, her fingers began rubbing small circles into his skin. Absent. Soothing. Gentle.

The intimacy of it settled between them like a second blanket. Soft and warm.

His smirk faded. He leaned in closer, his forehead brushing hers as they laid tangled in sheets and unspoken words. "No dualling today," he murmured against her temple. "You'll rest."

"I can handle it," she replied, but her voice was quiet. Weary. Her fingers still moved in slow circles on his wrist. 

"I know you can," he said, brushing his thumb over her spine. "But I want you to rest. Just this once."

She blinked. Her throat tightened.

Tom Riddle, the person she had once thought incapable of softness, was holding her like she was something precious.

She let him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The morning passed in a haze of soft touches and unspoken promises. But when afternoon rolled in, reality returned.

As finals approached, Tom isolated himself in the library, surrounded by the towering shelves and the comforting rustle of parchment. His only company were the giant tomes of books he devoured with relentless focus. 

He needed time with his thoughts, uninterrupted, disciplined time, and listening to Lilia and Celeste argue about that bloody niffler certainly didn't help. If it were up to him, Lilia would be in his arms instead, curled beside him as they talked about advanced transfigurations.

Lilia and Celeste were planning to drop the niffler off at the edge of the Forbidden Forest later that day. While Lilia considered the creature a bratty little menace, Celeste had grown completely enamoured with it. 

Of course, if Lilia thought it was bratty, Tom agreed. Especially when it huffed at her in the Room of Requirement.

That alarmed him. 

How was it that she already held this much influence over him?

Tom often found himself thinking about the moment when his world began to tilt in her direction. 

The first time she had challenged his belief in blood purity, how he hadn't argued, but listened. 

The moment she nearly killed him, and he had felt a mix of fear and fascination. Everything about her was disruptive and unrelenting, and yet, it had only drawn him closer. 

All the measures he now took: the nightly dualling sessions, the defensive spells, were not simply for his benefit. They were for her. To protect her from Grindelwald. To make sure that if the time came, she wouldn't be alone.

Lilia Rousseau had not just entered his life. She had rewritten it.

She was unlike anyone he had ever known. 

She carried pain like a shadow- always there, always quiet. She had lived through horrors he could only begin to guess at, but he could see that she was trying not to let them define her. He remembered the way her shoulders trembled when she cried in his arms, and how tightly she held onto him, like he was something precious. 

The memory of her, shaken but unyielding, never left him.

And that frightened him.

Because Tom Riddle hated death. It was cruel, indiscriminate. It took Myrtle from him, just as he began to understand what it meant to care. He hadn't been able to predict her final moments. He hadn't understood the depth of her loneliness until it was too late. And in his reckless pursuit of knowledge, he had unleashed the thing that took her life.

He would never let that happen again.

Myrtle and Lilia were similar: both misunderstood, both vulnerable. 

But where Myrtle had been fragile and easily shattered, Lilia stood back up every time she fell. She had a quiet resilience that unnerved him, even now. And yet, it only made his desire to protect her stronger.

If Grindelwald wanted her, it meant she was in danger. And that meant Tom had to act.

He could not imagine a world where she no longer existed. No more soft brown eyes blinking up at him with defiance or affection. No more quips. No more little flowers braided into her dark hair. No more arms wrapped around his body as if she could anchor them both to this world.

Lilia Rousseau was capable. She had proven that countless times. 

But that did not change the fact that Tom Riddle would intervene when necessary.

Still, even as these thoughts consumed him, Tom forced himself to focus.

Finals were approaching. He had a reputation to uphold, and his ambition would not falter. He had to be top of his year, flawlessly, unquestionably. No matter how distracted he felt, no matter how often her face crept into his thoughts, he couldn't afford a single misstep. 

Every spell had to be perfect. 

Every incantation sharp. 

His wand work crisp, his essays elegant and precise. 

He pushed himself harder than ever, channeling every burst of emotion into discipline.

Yet, even now, as he stared at the essay he was meant to be proofreading, his mind wandered back to her.

To the way she had looked that night when she opened up about her true feelings when she cried in his arms. To the way she had asked him to stay.

He exhaled slowly, forcing his thoughts to settle. He would not pry. He would wait.

When she truly trusted him enough, she would let him in.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The library was mostly empty as the young couple sat in a dimly lit corner. It was a Saturday evening, and most students had taken the opportunity to escape the confines of books and parchment. 

The air smelled faintly of old paper and the lingering, ever-present traces of magical dust that clung to the tomes.

Lilia sat hunched over a volume on magical creature classifications, her quill abandoned halfway down a sheet of parchment now stained with inkblots. Her brows were drawn together in a tight line, eyes skimming the same paragraph for the fifth time without absorbing a single word. The ink was beginning to smudge beneath her palm.

Opposite her, Tom sat in perfect stillness. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, collar slightly loosened, his penmanship on his notes impeccable. Neat, sharp, and methodical, like he was dissecting the subject matter rather than simply learning it.

The contrast between them was almost laughable.

With a frustrated sigh, Lilia dropped her head into her hands and let out a soft groan. "I can't do this anymore."

Tom didn't look up. "Yes, you can."

"No, I actually can't." Her voice was muffled by her palms. "Care of Magical Creatures is impossible. What kind of creature is so dangerous it can kill you just by breathing near you? It sounds like a suicide mission."

That made him glance up from his book, the corners of his mouth twitching. "The nundu is one of the most lethal creatures in existence. Stealthy as smoke, breath like a plague." He shut the textbook with a soft thump. "Entire groups of trained wizards have failed to subdue one. But yes, please, do tell me how it's unfair you have to write three feet of parchment on it."

She groaned louder, flopping back in her chair. "Merlin, I'm going to die of humiliation when I get the grade back. Which I suppose makes the nundu metaphorically successful."

His lips quirked. "Dramatic. But clever."

She peeked at him through her fingers. "Do you like that I'm suffering?"

Tom's voice was calm. Teasing. "Immensely."

He leaned back in his chair with a quiet sigh, withdrawing a cigarette from the case on the table. The snap of the lighter echoed faintly in the quiet space. He lit the cigarette with one smooth motion and took a slow drag, the tip burning bright in the dimness. Smoke curled languidly around his fingers.

Lilia peeked up at him through her fingers. "You're so calm, it's irritating." 

"I'm studying," he replied, exhaling a stream of smoke. "You're panicking. There's a difference." 

She sat up, glaring at him half-heartedly. "You're going to give yourself lung damage." 

He tilted his head. "That's adorable coming from the girl who tried smoking once, choked violently, and declared it was not for her." 

Her eyes narrowed. Admittedly, that had not been her best moment. "That was my first time." 

"You coughed like you were dying." 

"I was."

Tom took another drag, watching her now with a quiet amusement. He looked devastating like this, tie loosened, shirt wrinkled from leaning back in his chair, eyes dark and unreadable in the low light. The smoke also gave him a dangerous edge.

She swallowed. Her heart was still racing. Whether from the stress or from him, she didn't know anymore.

"Give me that," she said suddenly, pointing to the cigarette. 

He blinked. "Excuse me?" 

"I want to try again." 

He raised an eyebrow. "You just said-" 

"I'm allowed to be a hypocrite," she snapped. "I'm under academic duress."

Tom studied her for a moment. Slowly, purposefully, he took another drag. But instead of handing her the cigarette, he stood. Walked around the table.

She tilted her head back, watching him come closer with narrowed eyes. "What are you-" 

He leaned down.

One hand slid around the back of her chair, the other cradled her jaw gently. She didn't move. Couldn't. 

His mouth was just inches from hers when his thumb pressed on her lower lip. Her lips parted instinctively, just in time for him to lower his head fully.

And then, he kissed her.

The smoke passed from him to her in a slow exhale, warm and heady, curling on her tongue like heat. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands clutched the edge of her seat. He didn't pull away, not entirely. His mouth moved against hers, coaxing, claiming. 

It wasn't a kiss in the traditional sense. It was deeper. A shared breath, a shared burn.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless.

"That," he murmured, voice low, "is how you do it."

Her lips tingled. "I hate you."

He smirked, brushing his thumb over her lower lip. "No, you don't."

And she didn't. Not even a little.

She was still recovering from the kiss, her breath uneven, her lips tingling, when the soft flutter of wings caught her attention. A tawny owl swooped low through the open library window, startling a few students in another corner before landing neatly on the table between them.

It dropped a single envelope, cream parchment and sealed with a faintly smudged wax crest. Lilia blinked, reaching for it slowly. Her name was written in looping, unfamiliar script.

She cracked the seal. Her eyes scanned the letter once. Then twice. And her breath hitched. Tom tilted his head slightly, watching her expression shift.

"It's from Newt Scamander," she whispered. "He wants me to help care for some of his creatures this summer. He... he says he'll be away on expedition and needs someone he trusts."

She stared at the parchment, stunned.

There was no formal offer. No polished title. Just a quiet trust and an opportunity. One she hadn't sought, but somehow... one that had found her anyway.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she folded the letter again, holding it close to her chest.

Something inside her, tight and anxious, finally loosened.

She looked at Tom and smiled. Just a little.

She had something to look forward to for the summer holidays. She was slowly, steadily making a place for herself in a timeline she was never meant to belong to.

But then, there was Tom. Her friends. 

And now, this.

Maybe everything wasn't falling apart.

Chapter Text

Lilia was ruined.

She was sitting at her desk, furiously writing about how the nundu could help aurors in their expeditions. 

But her treacherous mind kept replaying the intimate moment she had shared with Tom in the library a few nights ago. The way his lips pressed against hers, the ease with which the smoke had simply passed into her mouth…

It felt like her body had been claimed and marked by him in every possible way.

He had kissed her, he had held her, he had fucked her. She had always known that sex could be pleasurable, especially from what her friends had told her. She was well aware that whatever Dolohov had done to her in the Malfoy Manor had been a one-off. A rotten soul taking advantage of a young girl who was obviously at a disadvantage.

Lilia knew that sex would be the closest she could ever physically get to someone. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought that someone would be Tom Riddle. She should never have ended up in the past; the killing curse should never have failed. Yet it did. And here she was, hopelessly falling for him.

Her mind, her body, her soul, her heart- everything belonged to him already.

It terrified her. She would never know if Voldemort had ever cherished her the way Tom did, or if he had killed her despite everything they had shared. She had no way of finding out whether her relationship with Tom had always been doomed in an endless time loop.

She did not want to think of it that way.

She paused her writing, her lips quirking up faintly. 

She had teased him once, joked that fate had brought her to him just to let him know he had a great cock (and he did). It had been her way of keeping those deep feelings she harbored for him locked inside her heart, hidden from everyone. Maybe even from herself.

Lilia was pretty sure that fate had brought her here for a reason. 

Whether that was to save Tom from his descent into darkness, or to give her a chance to live for herself and be happy- she had no way of knowing. Or maybe the universe had assigned her the cruel task of saving everyone who had died because of Voldemort, and of carrying the burden of a future that might never exist.

She felt a strange mix of fear, guilt, and happiness when she thought about her life as it was now.

Fear because now that she was here, she had no way of knowing if she was tampering with the timeline in a way that would make things even worse than they had ever been.

Guilt because so many of her loved ones had been robbed of their lives while she had been given a second chance.

And finally, happiness because for the first time, she had found someone who truly saw her, and cherished her just the way she was.

One thing had become abundantly clear: she had no wish to return to her own time, where everything had already been destroyed by war.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Tom had his arm draped around Lilia’s shoulders as they sat together on the common room couch. It was late at night, and the quiet crackle of the fireplace filled the silence between them. Like many of their shared moments, the silence was never uncomfortable.

She held a copy of Pride and Prejudice in her hands, a muggle book he’d often seen her re-reading, as if she drew comfort from its worn pages.

He had laid out rules when he noticed she was pushing herself too hard in preparation for finals. There was no need for it. She was already meticulous in her studies, perhaps too meticulous. Hogwarts couldn’t have been that different from Beauxbatons, and the exams were comparable in difficulty. Still, Lilia wouldn’t listen. When he caught her skimming yet another text on magical plants, he stepped in.

Tom ensured she didn’t burn herself out. He made her take breaks. And on nights like this, nights she couldn’t sleep, he would press a book into her hands and insist she read instead of study.

It was ironic, of course. He was currently poring over a text on advanced potions. But Tom knew how to manage himself. He knew his limits. And he had no intention of letting her forget hers.

He wanted to ask her about her nightmares, because usually, they were the reason why she would be up so late into the night. However, despite the bits and pieces he knew of her past, he did not want to force her to talk. So he stayed next to her- a silent pillar.

“Tom.” Her soft murmur broke him out of his trance. He looked to his right to find her yawning and blinking sleepily at him. He almost melted right there. She was so adorable.

“Hmm?” He coaxed gently, pulling her in so that her head rested on his shoulder. She had closed the book in her lap, and she was yawning again. “I want to spend all the time in the world with you,” she whispered.

His breath hitched. She said the sweetest things so casually. “We have all the time, Lilia,” he reassured, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head. 

She shook her head. “You never know what could happen. I mean… I was not even supposed to be here. Who knows? Maybe one day, we might never see each other again. Or we might see each other under different circumstances.”

That made him pause. Why did it feel like she was talking about something else? There was nothing out of the ordinary; they were mere speculations. And yet… something felt off. “I doubt it,” he replied, voice smooth and raspy. “I’m never letting you out of my sight now that I have you all to myself.”

She did not speak for a while, and he checked to see if she had fallen asleep. Instead, he saw the tears brimming in her eyes as she looked up at him. His heart sank. Immediately, he pulled away slightly and cupped her face with his hands, tilting her head up.

“What is it, my dear?” He asked gently, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. 

“Promise me you’ll never let me out of your sight.” 

“I promise.” 

She swallowed hard. “What if bad things happen? What if you stop… liking me?” Her tone was vulnerable and raw, and he could not understand where this was coming from. 

“As long as I’m here, nothing bad will happen to you.” His brows furrowed slightly when she simply stared at him, eyes still glassy. 

“What if something bad happens to you?”

Her question, wrapped in genuine concern, made his chest tighten. He was not used to people being so worried over him, his well-being, his safety. Tom Riddle had done terrible things. He was no saint. He had hurt people. He had killed.

Lilia Rousseau knew. And she still… worried for him.

“Nothing bad will happen to me,” he reassured and kissed her forehead. 

“You don’t know that,” she protested weakly. 

“You don’t either.”

But the cruel irony was that she did know. She knew that there was a high chance of something going wrong. Of him going down the wrong path, one drenched in self-destruction and blood.

Lilia wrapped her arms around his body from the side, pressing her face into his chest. Two tears fell down her cheeks, and she hid them in the fabric of his pyjamas. “I won’t ever let you go, Tom. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

It sounded a lot like a promise. His body warmed up, but knowing that she had been in tears did not reassure him.

“I’m all yours, Lilia.”

And he meant it in a way he had never felt before. Not even with Myrtle.

Tom could not let go of Lilia, not after he had had a taste of what being away from her had felt like. Pretending to be fine while he could not be with the girl who haunted his every waking moment had been a special kind of hell that he had never expected.

Now that she was back in his arms, he would hold on to her.

She fell asleep almost immediately after, mumbling something about how she loved being in his arms. He silently held her, carefully wiping away the lingering tears from her face.

Tom wanted to wrap Lilia in his arms and keep her all to himself. Her soft words, her warm brown eyes, her beautiful smile, all her care and concern for him, he wanted everything she could offer.

His thoughts darkened.

He couldn’t even bring himself to make horcruxes- the very thing that should’ve guaranteed that nothing, no one, could ever separate them. These were supposed to be his answer. His safety net. His claim on the world.

But the ritual… He knew too much now. Knew what it would cost. And the price felt too real. It felt like her- like her touch, her voice, her tears. Like something that could shatter if he wasn’t careful.

Still… What if immortality could reassure her? What if she were immortal too?

If they both were, then Grindelwald wouldn’t matter. Fate wouldn’t matter. The future wouldn’t be able to tear her away from him.

The thoughts came fast and sharp, desperate and nearly feverish. His grip tightened around her, just slightly, just enough to remind himself she was here. She grounded him without even knowing it.

But he couldn’t help it; his mind kept spiraling. There had to be another way. If not Horcruxes, then something else. Something older. Stronger. Some kind of bond, something binding, something that meant she could never leave him.

The idea of her dying, disappearing, it sickened him.

He pressed his lips to her hair, closed his eyes, and let the weight of her steady breathing anchor him. She stirred slightly in his arms, her body curling instinctively into his. A soft, sleepy sound escaped her lips. It was so unbearably cute that he kissed her forehead again.

His darker thoughts began to recede, replaced with the quiet ache of adoration.

She was fragile, yes. Vulnerable in so many ways. But to him, she was the strongest person he’d ever known. She was the only one who had seen through him, and stayed. The only one who had touched the mess inside him. And kissed it.

Lilia Rousseau was the light of his life.

He would not have it any other way.

His hand came up to brush a few strands of hair from her cheek. She looked so peaceful like this, as though the world had not yet asked anything of her. As though it hadn’t hurt her yet.

He let his thumb linger. Then, quietly, not for her to hear, but for himself, he whispered, “I’ll never let you go. Not even if you ask me to.” To that, she murmured some incoherent, sleep words that sounded a lot like "Don't disappear."

His breath caught. He wanted to tell her he would never, he wanted to promise her the world. But the words twisted on his tongue. Because if it got down to it, if anyone was going to disappear, it wouldn’t be her. It would be him.

Still, he tightened his hold and whispered anyway. “I won’t. I swear I won’t.”

He kissed her one last time, just beneath her temple. Then rested his head against hers and closed his eyes, just for a moment.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Before Lilia could register it, finals were already around the corner.

She had been studying endlessly with all her friends. She was either in the library, the Slytherin common room, or the Ravenclaw common room, rotating between subjects. It was tiring, but if it were not for her studying, she would have nothing to keep her mind busy. And that was not even an option, especially not when there was always a voice in the back of her mind, reminding her that she was betraying all her loved ones by choosing her own happiness.

She had not had the chance to talk to Nikolai since that conversation they had in the common room. She could still hear his words- still hear the implication that he knew more than he had let on. That whatever she was keeping to herself could ruin everything.

But how could he?

As she stood in the courtyard with the other students, her mind kept vacillating between Nikolai and the task at hand. The final for the DADA class this year was engaging, to say the least.

For their final, students had been paired off to test their ability of using offensive and defensive spells. Lilia had wanted to be paired with Tom because she just wanted to see if this could actually end in her defeating him. Or vice versa.

The universe, however, had different plans. And now, she stood opposite Nikolai, her jaw tense. He still had that easygoing smile, the same charm that had disarmed her at first. But now, her gut kept telling her that there was something off about him.

The fact that he had been focused on her when he first came to Hogwarts. The way he somehow knew of different secret passages to get to Hogsmeade from the castle. That casual comment about Theo… Something was off.

Not only were they supposed to dual, but each pair would take turns. That meant that the whole class would be watching. She despised it.

“So, Lil. Ready to have your ass handed to you on a silver platter?” Nikolai asked, stretching his arms and twirling his wand lazily.

 She smirked. “In your dreams, Nik.” 

That made him grin. “In my dreams, I do more than that.”

She could feel the tension emanating from Tom when Nikolai made that comment. The prefect was close by, watching intently to see how Wilfred would dual his girl. That sentence bugged him off to the extent that he debated slicing off the tongue of that bloody American.

If it were up to him, Tom would have risked detention just to teach him a lesson. But Tom knew Lilia.

And he couldn’t wait to see how she would perform.

Nikolai’s grin widened, but his eyes glittered with something darker. The whole courtyard buzzed with anticipation as Professor Merrythought raised her wand to signal the beginning of the duel. Lilia inhaled sharply, grounding herself. Her wand felt steady in her grip, though her heart was anything but.

“Duelers, take your marks,” the professor called out.

They bowed stiffly, the tension between them palpable. As soon as they straightened, Merrythought’s wand sliced through the air.

“Begin!”

Lilia stepped forward, her wand steady in her hand. Nikolai mirrored her with a graceful, almost lazy swagger that made her want to hex the smirk off his face. The crowd around them buzzed with anticipation, but she barely noticed.

“Ladies first?” He drawled.

Her eyes narrowed. “How gallant of you.”

She didn’t wait. “Expelliarmus!”

He dodged, ducking and rolling with far more finesse than she expected. “Protego,” he countered, the shimmering shield flickering before him.

Lilia pressed forward. “Stupefy!”

This one clipped his shoulder, enough to send him skidding back. A small cheer rose from the crowd. Nikolai grunted, rubbing his arm but still smiling.

“Feisty. I like it.”

She gritted her teeth. “Impedimenta!”

He blocked it easily, twirling his wand again as if he were fencing. “You know, you’re a lot more fun when you’re trying to kill me.”

“Funny,” she muttered, sidestepping his retaliating jinx. “That’s exactly how I feel about you.”

“Come on, Lil. Is it that comment about Theo from that night that has you all mad at me?” 

She scoffed. “Do you not remember what you said after that?” 

He feigned ignorance. “What? The part about you having secrets?”

Her jaw clenched so hard it ached.

Their wands clashed again- blue and red sparks dancing in the air between them. She saw the moment his eyes sharpened- only slightly, but enough. He was watching her. Studying her.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

She deflected. “Protego Maxima!”

There was a ripple in the air, a shimmer that pulsed outward. The watching students gasped softly.

He recovered quickly. “Nice. I have secrets too, if it makes you feel better.”

She flicked her wand sharply. His mouth sealed shut as she cast a spell to glue his tongue to the roof of his mouth. The look of indignant betrayal on his face was deeply satisfying.

Lilia cocked her head, a smug smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

A few students laughed. Nikolai, red-faced, flicked his wand behind his back. She countered his next curse with a wordless shield, then snapped her wand upward.

“Expelliarmus!”

His wand flew from his hand and clattered against the ground.

Gasps and murmurs filled the courtyard.

Professor Merrythought raised her arm. “Excellent, Rousseau!”

Lilia’s heart was pounding. She lowered her wand slowly, chest rising and falling with exertion. It was a miracle she had not somehow slipped out a spell that would have gotten her expelled from school. That, according to Hermione, would have been a fate worse than death.

She looked at Nikolai. He was grinning.

“Damn,” he muttered once the spell wore off. “You really are scary when you want to be.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “And you’re the idiot who keeps underestimating me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it again.”

Lilia did not spare Nikolai a glance or even bother to check in about how he was faring after her spell. Instead, she walked over to Tom, cheeks reddened from physical exertion and from the way his dark eyes settled on her.

He looked unfairly handsome and put-together. It had barely taken him any effort to win his duel with a fellow Ravenclaw student. Tom Riddle was excellent- there was no other word she could think of to characterise his skills.

Tom’s lips quirked up on one side, noticing how she had gone from this fierce student who could destroy everything in front of her to this shy girl who was now looking at him with eyes that shone like the stars.

The heat pooled low in his gut, blood rushing downward, hardening with every glance she cast his way.

Because he knew she sought his approval, even if she didn’t realise it. All their little sparrings when they thought it best to practise in case Grindelwald strikes, the way she constantly tried her best to outdo him in Potions (and succeeded to his dismay), the way she tried to look pretty… It was all for him.

Having that kind of hold and control over someone was intoxicating. Even more so because she might not even have been aware of it. That made him want to cherish her and keep her by his side forever.

“You never disappoint, my dear,” Tom murmured, a proud smirk on his face. Lilia made a show of flipping her hair just as his arm lazily slipped around her waist. It was so natural, her breath hitched briefly. “You know me.”

“Hmm, I do know you.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “Some might say, very intimately.” Her cheeks heated at the comment. The way his voice lowered, so sultry, so intimate…

Merlin, why did it make her want to do things that were guaranteed to distract her from the fact that she had to study?

“Very intimately, indeed.” She nodded and smiled up at him. They both stood next to each other, hand in hand while they watched the other students. She cheered for her Ravenclaw friends when they had to dual.

When all the students had been tested, they were free to go. Lilia had started talking about her upcoming revision schedule. She would have laughed at how absurd it was that she was taking these finals so seriously. She had literally been killed and sent back to the past. Surely, that was a bigger issue.

But in her mind, she needed something to look forward to. Revisions. Finals. Spending time with Tom. The summer job with Newt Scamander. There had to be something because if not, her guilt and the burden of carrying such a heavy history would drown her.

“I have two more days to study for the herbology final,” she told Tom who listened and nodded. “But I’ll also have to study for ancient runes. There are so many translations to look into-”

They barely made it into the castle, past an empty corridor when he pulled her in a dark classroom. The door locked behind them and her breath hitched as she took in her surroundings. It was broad daylight, but this room had thick curtains blocking any light from coming in. She could even make a faint layer of dust over the chairs and tables.

“Tom, why are we here?” She asked, watching as he approached her in slow, measured strides.

She didn’t even mean to do it, but he was so much taller than her. He practically towered over her and she found herself taking slow steps backwards. When her spine hit a table, she gasped.

“Do you like it?” He rasped, placing his arms on both sides of her body and caging her against the table.

“Like what?” She asked, confused.

“Putting on a show the way you did for our final, then acting all shy and innocent with me. Hmm?” His eyes bore into hers so intensely she felt her knees growing weak. Warm brown that reminded her a lot of hot chocolate on a cold Christmas morning.

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“You never try,” he interrupted softly. “That’s the problem. You have no idea what you do to me.”

She almost stopped breathing right there. She blinked, still processing those words while he leaned in even closer until his lips were mere inches away from hers. She could feel his warm breath fanning across her face. His heady scent…

Tom reached out and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. Her mouth parted instinctively while her hands gripped the dusty table for support. She felt like she could crumble at any time if he kept looking at her like this and touching her.

His hand then trailed down to her chin, which he tilted upwards. His eyes dropped lower. Her whole body was too hot. She had loosened her blouse for the dual and he was staring straight at her cleavage. He remembered how she’d felt beneath his hands- warm, heavy, perfect, and his body reacted instantly.

“You’re dangerous when you fight,” he murmured. 

“Dangerous?” She asked in a strained voice. 

He nodded. “Dangerous. Calculated. Efficient.” He paused as his hand continued its path down to her neck. “It makes me want to get on my knees for you.”

Before she could understand what was going on, Tom dropped to his knees. He slid his hands under her skirt, holding the back of her thighs and pressing slightly. She shuddered and squirmed weakly from how sensitive her skin was.

“Tom- What are you doing?” She asked in a whisper. His fingers tightened on her soft flesh and she gasped again.

“I need this.” His voice was ragged while he looked up at her. “I need to taste you. Let me have this. Please.”

She could not even find her words. She simply nodded while he helped her sit down on the desk and spread her legs. He hitched her skirt around her waist and placed soft kisses along her inner thighs.

“Consider this a reward. For passing that dual.” He sucked on the sensitive skin. She had to bite down on her lower lip to stifle the whimper that was threatening to come out. “For making me hard just from watching you fight.” Another mark. “For being so damn perfect, my Lilia.”

My Lilia.

Her heart ached with sheer affection and tenderness. His Lilia. It was like a term of endearment for her. It made her feel like she was his world. She liked that.

Scratch that- she loved it.

Tom hooked his fingers in her panties and pulled them to the side. He didn’t waste any time as he dove in and licked across her slit. He groaned, the sound guttural and low. She was already so wet and it had barely taken anything.

His mouth easily found her clit and he flattened his tongue against the sensitive bud. She had to clamp a hand over her mouth as he sucked and flicked her clit in a maddening motion. He alternated between circles and quick flicks, which made her eyes roll to the back of her head.

Tom ate her out like she was the best meal he had ever had in months. He used his hands to spread her open, exposing the pink bud to his tongue. Her thighs trembled from his ministrations and her hand muffled all the sounds of pleasure she couldn’t contain.

“Fuck,” he muttered after pulling away slightly. “You taste like you were made for me.”

Her hips bucked. Her vision blurred.

He licked up her wetness, savoring every drop. “I could spend my entire life between your thighs,” he whispered, voice dark and worshipful. “And it still wouldn’t be enough.”

All she could think, as she threaded her other hand through his dark hair, was that she never wanted him to stop.

Not when he said her name like that.

Not when he pulled her apart so gently.

Not when he made her feel powerful and wanted all at once.

Not when he looked up at her like she was the only magic in the world that mattered.

Her eyes squeezed shut and she let out a muffled sob when she came. Her body went slack on the desk while her thighs trembled from the aftermath.

Tom peppered kisses along her inner thighs before tugging her underwear back in place. He stayed on his knees as he looked up at her and adjusted her skirt.

Her cheeks were flushed in that pretty shade of pink that he had come to admire. His hands found the back of her thighs again, caressing the skin softly. She tried her best not to squirm.

So sensitive. He smirked, though it was tinged with so much fondness for the girl.

“If you make sure to get at least eight hours of sleep every night until finals are over, I will reward you like this.” The offer was sultry, tempting. 

She looked down at him in a daze. “But I have so much to revise-”

He interrupted her softly but firmly. “You are doing more than enough. I don’t want you to study at night. You need to rest.”

She wanted to protest because she was stressed about her revisions and finals. But the promise of pleasure like this… was enough to make her consider his words. She swallowed and her cheeks reddened further.

“You promise you’ll reward me like this?”

His smirk widened. “Yes.”

“Every night?”

“Every night.”

She nodded, pleased. “Deal.”

“Good girl.”

Tom finally stood up to his full length. He helped Lilia off the desk and brushed off the dust on her skirt. She smiled up at him just as he leaned in to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his lips.

That taste, an intoxicating mix of her own arousal and his mouth, made her lightheaded with desire. Her stomach clenched. She wanted more again. But for now, she would pick her battles. She would study as much as she could during the day.

Then, at night, he could reward her with his mouth again. Or his cock. Her heart skipped a beat.

She loved that.

“You’re so good to me,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

Tom paused, just for a moment while his thumb brushed along her hip as he looked at her with so much warmth in his eyes.

“Only for you,” he said. “Only ever for you.”

Chapter Text

Tom’s days had gotten significantly busier as students were now halfway through their finals. With final exams in full swing, his days were split between quiet hours in the library and brief stretches with his friends.

At night, he kept his promise- devoting every breath to Lilia until exhaustion blurred the edges of consciousness.

She’d teased that he left her no strength for anything else, that she could never simply hold him afterward because he poured too much of himself into her comfort. But for Tom, this was the only language he trusted. Devotion written in touch and silence, his care expressed through closeness he could not put into words.

Taking care of her.

Making sure she was not overworking herself.

Ensuring she was sleeping well.

Lilia was his and only his to care for.

So, it did not really please him whenever she spent her time studying with her Ravenclaw friends. He was not jealous of that- although he would have preferred having her by his side during every waking hour.

No, it was the fact that Nikolai was part of that group. Lilia seemed to be warming up to him again, but the American still bothered Tom. What exactly had he said that had made her cry that night?

The sound of her sobs still echoed painfully in his mind. Raw, vulnerable, fragile. She cried like her whole world was falling apart and looked at Tom like he was her only saving grace.

He did not like the way that she was giving Wilfred a second chance. Why would she do that for someone who had clearly hurt her to the point of tears?

Patience was the path he chose to take when it came to her. He would wait for her to trust him, to let him in about her past and the things that clearly still haunted her.

Yet, he couldn’t deny that it was frustrating to wait for that moment. He just wanted to help her cope- he wanted to know the exact reason behind her tears, her nightmares so that he could tell her everything would be fine, and mean it.

He had no choice but to wait. He refused to invade her privacy in any sense and he felt a sense of shame creeping up when he remembered how he had brewed a potion to determine her birth date. He would not- could not- undermine her trust in him like that ever again.

She might have been slow to open up to him, but she still trusted him with parts of herself that she didn’t show other people.

Hence, with that warm feeling in his chest, Tom patrolled the dark hallways of the castle. The sky was dark with no stars in sight. The only source of light were the fire torches that lined the walls of Hogwarts.

He had always managed to avoid the night patrols during his time as a prefect. It was not because he needed to sleep, but rather, he found that he needed time with his thoughts. Preferably, with a muggle cigarette in hand.

And what a lucky coincidence it had been, when his preference led to his first intimate conversations with the young woman who always occupied his thoughts.

Tonight, unfortunately, he had not been able to slip out of his duties. News of his intelligence and academic prowess preceded him and the head boy had requested (practically begged) for him to perform night patrols for the next couple of nights so the other students could balance academics and their prefect duties.

It had irked him because it took away from his carefully planned nights.

And Lilia.

It had quickly become a habit to spend his nights in her bed. They had made sure that her roommates were fine with this since there was no point in hiding the fact that he was staying over. It certainly helped that Celeste and Evangeline already knew Tom and while not exceptionally close, they were comfortable with him.

In his mind, spending the nights in his room had been out of question. Lilia was a woman and he could imagine that she would not like to be in a room full of men other than himself. From the moment she had first come to Hogwarts, he hadn’t missed out on the signs that she was not comfortable being touched by men.

Since her comfort and safety were his priority, they resorted to sleeping in her bed. And those times, he made sure to use a silencing charm.

His lips quirked up fondly as he roamed around the castle.

Tom Riddle was in a relatively good mood. He would walk around for a couple more hours before joining his girl in her bed.

His steps faltered when he approached an unused classroom on the third floor of the castle. The door was ajar and a faint blue light shone out, casting a small beam onto the darkened hallway.

His guards immediately snapped in place and with a quick snap of his fingers, he cast a silencing charm to muffle his footsteps. Then, with a disillusionment charm, he cautiously approached the room.

Something clawed at the back of his mind. A wrongness. Subtle, but unmistakable, the kind that made the air feel too still, the shadows too loud. For some reason, he knew that he would not just find a student breaking curfew.

His suspicions were confirmed when he peeped through the door carefully.

His gaze landed on someone’s back.

A student. Male. Wearing Slytherin robes.

Tom adjusted his stance, leaning slightly to the side to get a better view through the cracked door.

Nikolai.

He stood in the center of the empty classroom, hunched slightly as he spoke to a rippling shimmer in the air- a portal, crude and incomplete, anchored by a few runes on the floor and drawn with a precision Tom hadn’t expected the other to have. The blue glow cast deep shadows on Nikolai’s features, sharpening the boy’s usual open expression into a focused and serious one.

“I’m working on it,” Nikolai said. His voice had dropped into a tone Tom barely recognized- flat, clipped, stripped of its usual lazy drawl. “She’s difficult. Friendly, but doesn’t trust easily. She talks, but it’s always jokes, commentary, vague opinions. Nothing concrete.”

There was a pause. Then Tom heard the voice of another man, rougher and slightly distorted by the portal’s magic, but the accent was unmistakable. Russian, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“And yet she’s close to you?”

Nikolai hesitated. “Closer than most. She doesn’t open up, not really, but she laughs. That counts for something. There’s something strange about her, though. I can’t pin it down. Her magic feels- Well practised. And she can be quite… Ruthless when she wants to be.”

Tom’s jaw clenched.

“That is your task. Observe. Get her to speak. You can’t fail.”

There was a brief flicker in the portal. A shape stepped closer, a figure cloaked in black, silver gleaming on their chest. Tom narrowed his eyes.

There. Etched over the heart: a distinct symbol. Triangular. Stylized.

Grindelwald’s mark.

A jolt of something cold rippled through Tom’s spine. His fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm.

Nikolai.

A spy. A disciple. Aligned with him.

And Lilia-

He didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. Everything around him felt louder, as if his magic was threatening to lash out. But he didn’t barge in. Not yet.

He waited for them to finish.

When Nikolai ended the connection and began erasing the runes from the floor with a practiced hand, Tom turned swiftly and made his way toward the nearest hall. A different corridor. Different torches. Just enough distance to make the next interaction seem coincidental.

Perfectly timed, the footsteps approached.

“Riddle!” Nikolai greeted him, ever the affable charmer. “Burning the midnight oil? Or just out to scowl at the moon?”

Tom’s expression was unreadable. “Patrol.”

Nikolai grinned, unbothered. “Of course. You prefect types do love a rule.”

Tom didn’t smile. “And you break them often.”

That earned a blink. “Oh come on, don’t be so cold. You sound like a Headmaster. Lighten up.”

“You’re out past curfew. That’s grounds for detention.”

“Seriously?” Nikolai raised a brow, laughing softly. “Since when do you hand those out?”

Tom stepped forward, gaze sharp. “Since tonight. Ten points from Slytherin. Detention this Friday. I expect you to be on time.”

Nikolai looked like he might argue, but something in Tom’s eyes silenced him. For a moment, just a flicker, he seemed to sense it. That he had been seen. Or heard. That his mask had slipped just a little too far.

“Fine,” he said finally, offering a light shrug. “I’ll be there. Ten points from Slytherin, huh? You’re heartless.”

Tom said nothing. He just nodded once and turned on his heel, his robes billowing as he disappeared down the hallway.

He needed to think.

And more importantly- he needed to tell Lilia.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia stood in the Room of Requirement, heart pounding in her chest as she held a crumpled piece of parchment paper in her hand. She wasn’t even sure if she was doing the right thing in the moment.

Tom was busy with his prefect night rounds and she missed him already. Now more so than ever. This was the first night in a while when he hadn’t been by her side in bed when she got ready to sleep. It was the first night she couldn’t find refuge in his clean minty scent along with the faint undertone of cigarettes.

And it was the night that the letter made its way into her room.

Eva and Celeste had already gone to bed by the time Lilia came out of the shower. And there it was. Lying on her bed innocently.

A chill had run down her spine for reasons she couldn’t pinpoint. Grabbing her wand, she tested the letter to make sure that it wasn’t cursed. When she finally opened it, her blood ran cold at the sight of the symbol at the bottom of the page.

The deathly hallows.

This was Grindelwald’s doing. Her fingers shook as she read through the content.

Dear Miss Rousseau,

I presume you have been doing well since we last met outside the Malfoy Manor.

I believe it is in our best interests to have a long-awaited conversation. This is simply to ensure that things are in order, of course.

Draw a circle of wax at midnight. Burn this letter in the middle. I will answer.

So, here she was, standing in the middle of the Room of Requirement which had taken the form of an empty classroom. A candle was laid out on a desk in front of her and she hesitated.

Lilia had been trying to prepare her friends for Grindelwald, especially since he now had an eye on them because of her mistake. She had also made sure to keep the resurrection stone on her hand at all times, not even letting Tom take it from her. She glanced down at the black stone on the golden ring on her finger- it was her ring now.

Her only means of getting in touch with her loved ones if she ever needed to. She had done a pretty good job of keeping that temptation at bay, especially when she last met Theodore. There was no way that this stone would end up in the wrong hands.

However, she was no fool.

The letter meant that Grindelwald had somehow managed to find a way to push past the barriers and wards that protected Hogwarts. Dumbledore had strengthened them when that attack happened on Hogsmeade in the beginning of the year. So how did it get to her bed?

Her palms grew clammy the more she thought about what that meant. There was a way for him to get inside the castle, to get closer to the people that she was trying so hard to protect and to hurt them.

No.

Steeling herself, she grabbed the candle and drew a circle on the desk with the melting wax. Then she placed the letter in the middle and lit it on fire with the same candle.

The flame caught quickly, curling the edges of the parchment and devouring the ink in black licks, as if the words themselves were being erased from existence. Lilia stepped back as the fire hissed in a strange, serpentine way, not like normal parchment crackling, but like something whispering.

As the last of the letter burned, the wax ring on the desk began to shimmer, glowing with faint silver veins. Smoke pooled inside the circle, thick and strange, curling upwards into a column.

And then- he was there.

Not in body, not even in face, but in silhouette. A tall figure formed within the smoke- too defined to be illusion, too unreal to be flesh. The shape of his coat, high-collared and regal. The faint gleam of the hallows symbol etched over his chest.

Lilia’s breath caught.

“Miss Rousseau,” came a low, smooth voice. “How lovely to finally speak. Properly.”

She said nothing.

Grindelwald's silhouette shimmered faintly, the contours of his face blurred and unfinished. It was like speaking to a thought, an idea, rather than a person.

“You’ve been quite busy, haven’t you?” He said. “Friends, professors, boys with clever eyes and darker thoughts…”

“What do you want?” She cut in, her voice hard despite the tremor in her chest. Somehow, he seemed to have a general idea of what had been going on in her life while at school.

“A conversation,” he said mildly. “To offer you what no one else has. Choice. Freedom. Power. Knowledge that your current companions would never understand.”

She narrowed her eyes. “To join your cause?”

“Ah, you wound me. No, not join. I want you at my side, Lilia. An equal. You’ve seen what’s coming, haven’t you? You’ve fought darkness. Survived it. You could guide us. Guide me.”

Her jaw clenched. He didn’t know. He didn’t realise that Voldemort, his ideological descendant, was the darkness she had fought against.

“You don’t even know who I fought,” she said coldly.

“No,” he admitted. “Not yet. But I’ve heard whispers. I’ve seen glimpses. The mind is a fragile thing under pain… and prophecy. The seer I keep speaks in riddles: visions induced only by her nightmares. It’s... taxing for her.”

Lilia’s stomach twisted at this casual reminder of the cruelty he was capable of. This was the person who had killed babies for the sole reason that they were born muggles. She had read about his heinous crimes when she was reading up on strategies to fight against Voldemort.

“I once asked her who ends me,” Grindelwald continued. “She wept. Said it was someone close to you. A friend, perhaps. I still remember your reaction when I mentioned that when we dualled, remember?”

“You’re reaching,” she said flatly. But the words rang too close to home. She had been terrified that a mere action she hadn’t been able to hold back was going to put her friends in harm’s way.

“Am I?” He tilted his head. “Or are you simply frightened of what that means? That you might one day stand in the way of destiny. Again.”

“I’m not frightened of you.”

He smiled, slow and wolfish. “No, I suppose not… You seem to have grown bolder.”

She didn’t respond. He took it as permission to continue.

“You’re a remarkable witch, Lilia. Your wand work, your instincts… your silence. But do you know what I admire most?” He leaned in slightly while the flames shifted between them. “Your influence. You make people shift. Opinions. Loyalties. It’s subtle. Almost invisible.”

Lilia bristled at the implication. “Are you accusing me of manipulation?”

“I’m merely observing. The world you came from- the one you’re so desperate to fix, might only change through small, careful nudges. But nudge too hard, and you’re no longer a protector. You’re a traitor.”

Her blood chilled. As he spoke, she could not even deny the fact that her words had somehow swayed the direction her friends were taking in their endeavours. Tom had changed his view, hadn’t he? And in the process, that changed the stance of her other friends too.

But none of it had been on purpose… Had it?

“They trust you now,” Grindelwald went on. “But what happens when they find out who you truly are? What you truly are? And if you are manipulating their ideals- those poor kids still caught between blood and friendship…”

“I’m not like you,” she hissed. “I don’t torture people for visions. I don’t recruit children for slaughter. I’m nothing like you.”

“Perhaps not yet,” he said, almost kindly. “But the line is thinner than you think.”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

“And be careful with sly little Slytherin boys, especially the charming ones,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “You never know which one might be whispering in the wrong ear. Or wearing the wrong crest beneath his robes.”

The fire flared. He was gone.

Only the ring on her hand remained warm. Only her breath remained ragged. And suddenly, it all clicked.

A sly Slytherin boy who had just entered her life, who was as charming as he was funny. Who possessed knowledge that she could not understand.

Nikolai.

It had to be him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lilia and Tom ran into each other in the corridor outside the Slytherin dungeons. The prefect’s eyes narrowed slightly when she froze in front of him, looking like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing.

She was supposed to be asleep.

“Tom.” She approached him casually, too casually.

“Lilia.” He tilted his head slightly when she stopped in front of him, looking guilty. “What are you doing out past curfew? You were supposed to be in bed.” His tone was stern but laced with concern. She felt a flash of shame for not listening to him, not staying in bed like he had wanted.

Tom cared for her in a way that she had never experienced before. He watched over her studying habits, her sleep schedule, and he made sure that she was always comfortable with whatever he did to her.

It was lovely.

She swallowed. “Let’s go inside.” She hesitated briefly before continuing. “I have something to tell you.”

His expression immediately softened and he sighed quietly. He wrapped a hand around her waist and guided her back inside. They made their way towards her room. As a prefect, this would have warranted deducting a few points from Slytherin as well as detention. Boys and girls were not supposed to sleep in the same bed.

They were getting too comfortable sleeping together and while it was not the healthiest approach to a relationship, it was all theirs. Lilia clearly needed more coddling and Tom was more than happy to do it.

His thoughts lightened briefly while he helped her settle in bed. They both took off their robes, leaving them in their sleep wear before they got under the covers and huddled close to each other.

He wrapped his arms around her while she rested her head on his chest.

“What is it?” He asked softly, looking down and noticing the slight furrow in her brows.

“When I came out of my shower earlier, I got a letter.” She began hesitantly, looking up at him. He nodded to encourage her to go on.

No secrets. She would not hide this from him. She had to start trusting him with bits and pieces of information.

And hopefully, one day, she would be able to tell him the truth about who she was.

“It was from Grindelwald.”

Her words broke through the silence and Tom’s body stiffened against her. He looked down at her, brows furrowed in worry. “How is that possible?” He asked, voice low and serious.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I followed the instructions on the letter and I went up to the Room of Requirement to-”

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” He asked, harsher than he intended. The reprimand in his voice made her body tense. She sat up and looked back at him while he mirrored her action.

“They were sleeping, Tom,” she replied. “But nothing bad happened, I promise. I’m pretty sure he just wanted to mess with my head…”

His lips were in a straight line, clearly displeased. But, he also knew that there was only so much he could do about it. Lilia could defend herself, she was more familiar with dualling than anyone in that castle was. Other than Dumbledore himself.

“So what happened when you went there?”

“There were some instructions and I think I ended up summoning some sort of portal. I talked to him… and he said something.” She swallowed hard, the cold feeling of betrayal slowly seeping through her body as she prepared herself to tell him. “I think Nikolai is involved with him.”

Tom’s blood ran cold. “I also saw something tonight, Lilia. I was doing my rounds and I saw someone in a classroom, talking to a person who was wearing clothes with Grindelwald’s symbol.” He paused.

“It was Nikolai.”

For a moment, it felt like time had come to a stop. She heard the words, processed them, but she couldn’t put them together.

Because that would mean that she had willingly spent time with someone who was working in close quarters with the enemy.

It meant that she had been deceived, that she had let some of her guards down whenever she laughed with him.

Nikolai was someone she had spent a lot of time with. He was her friend.

“Lilia,” Tom called out softly. He could see the internal conflict on her face, the way the hurt was so obvious in her expression. It did not please him to see this kind of reaction over another guy. But he knew they were friends and she was slow to open up to people.

This had to hurt for her.

“Nikolai works with Grindelwald,” she muttered to herself. “He came to Hogwarts for a reason, he befriended me for a reason, he-”

Tom reached out to pat her hair down gently, causing her to pause. “I trusted him,” she said bitterly. “I laughed with him. I thought he was my friend.” She took in a shaky breath. “Tom… He’s a spy.”

He nodded. “To watch over you, try to gain information from you.”

The betrayal she felt was nothing in front of the fear she had at the prospect of her friends falling in harm’s way. Nikolai could have done anything to any of them. To Tom.

She had been such a fool. She should have listened to her gut feeling that first time she saw Nikolai in Potions. He had focused on her, had approached her, had befriended her. But she let her guards down, seeing a memory of people she once knew in his easygoing nature.

The easy charm like Theo.

The pranks like Fred and George.

Subconsciously, she had felt a sense of familiarity in those traits, even though she had sensed that something was off- when he knew about hidden pathways to Hogsmeade, when he made those comments that night they got drunk and played truth or dare.

Suddenly, her heart plummeted as cold realisation washed over her.

Did Nikolai know that she was from the future?

If he did, he could use that against her eventually. Just like Grindelwald. They could both reveal her truth, get her arrested and thrown into Azkaban for life. Or they could try to keep her all to themselves.

And Tom-

Her eyes widened with panic when she looked at the boy in front of her. What if something happened to him? To her friends? What if her arrival in the past made things worse? What if Grindelwald never got defeated?

What if-

“Lilia, stop.” His hand found her chin, tilting her face to make her face him properly. She was shaking slightly. He hated seeing her like that. “Talk to me. I’m here for you.” Don’t hide from me again.

“I just… I don’t understand,” she whispered. “He could have done anything to us and we wouldn’t have known.”

Those words sent a chill down Tom’s spine. The implication in her words was clear- he could even have killed them off and they wouldn’t have known what had hit them. He couldn’t help the way his chest ached at the prospect of Lilia dying. His throat constricted and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Tom?” Lilia asked, noting the way he had paled significantly. She noticed his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down slightly, the way his eyes were too dark and glassy. Something wasn’t right.

He wanted to tell her that nothing would happen to them. To her. He would make sure of that. He would work harder than ever to make sure he could rival Grindelwald himself. Tom was a quick learner, he had improved his wand work considerably since he started practising with the others in the Room of Requirement. And, he now knew more spells than any other student in this castle thanks to the countless hours he had spent rummaging through old tomes in the library.

He wasn’t strong enough yet, but he would be.

As he forced himself to take deep breaths to calm himself down the only words that came out were, “You can’t die.”

The words slipped out like a prayer. Like something he hadn’t meant to say aloud.

Lilia froze. His voice was too raw, too real. She blinked up at him, heart stuttering.

Tom was worried for her.

She watched him take deep breaths while his eyes remained on her face. Her first instinct was to deny that anything would happen to her. But she knew that was a lie. She held the weight of the knowledge of the future in her hands.

A future that could change at any time if she didn’t play her cards right.

She saw the way his brows had furrowed, the way his forehead was wrinkled with worry. The sight made her chest tighten even more.

He wasn’t just worried- he was scared.

“Does that bother you?” She asked softly, watching him intently.

“Why is that even a question? Of course, it bothers me!” His answer was filled with more emotion than he was aware of. It made her pause even as warmth spread throughout her chest.

The horcruxes. The search for immortality.

Death.

Tom Riddle was scared of death. Anything related to death.

“Nothing will happen to me-”

“You don’t know that!” He cut her off, his eyes glassy and his jaw tense. “Something could have happened to you- anything. And I wouldn’t even have known if I hadn’t found him in that classroom tonight.”

Lilia really wanted to reassure him, to let him know that she would be fine (hopefully). But being faced with emotion like that when it came to her safety… She couldn’t push past the lump in her throat.

“It wouldn’t be your fault, Tom,” she murmured.

“It would be my fault. I have to keep you safe. You’ve been through so much already- your safety is my priority.” His brows furrowed slightly, like the prospect of being in a world without her physically pained him.

“Your safety is my priority too,” she replied hoarsely. “I am the reason why Grindelwald is focused on us. I messed up during the winter break.”

“Nothing will happen to you,” he replied more firmly. But she heard the tremor in his voice loud and clear. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Tom…” She swallowed hard and gave him a small pleading look. “You can’t put yourself at risk if things get bad eventually. You can’t.”

“Nothing you say will ever stop me from trying to protecting you, Lilia.”

“Nothing you say will stop me either, Tom.”

They both stared at each other stubbornly, the air thick with tension when they realised that none of them would back off for the other.

“What if something terrible happens to you? What if…” He couldn’t even continue.

“What if I die?” She asked and chuckled sadly. Her expression dropped when she noticed the way he paled even more. “I can’t really control that, can I?”

“No, but you can surely try to avoid it at all costs. I’ll be right there to keep you safe.”

Her heart cracked when she saw the genuine fear and worry on his face. Merlin, he was really terrified for her, wasn’t he? “If some things are meant to happen, there’s not much we can do about them.”

“Don’t you care? I know that you fought in a war, that you faced death every single day, but… What would I do in a world without you?” He reached out to pull her closer, wrapping his arms around her body tightly. “What’s the point if you’re not here every morning making that awful pumpkin drink?”

He didn’t continue, but he really couldn’t picture a world without Lilia Rousseau. He just needed to have her around, her body soft in his arms and her beautiful brown eyes focused on him.

She huffed quietly and bit her lower lip. “Really, Riddle? That’s all you’d miss about a world without me?” He didn’t even smile when she pulled away slightly to look up at him. It made her heart hurt more for him, for the fragile part of him that felt like death was bad.

Lilia had died, technically. She still remembered feeling the strong ache of regret when Voldemort cast the killing curse. She simply hadn’t been able to make a name for herself, to show that she could help the Order just like Harry had done.

Death hadn’t been painful. The moment she had seen the green flash of light, she had accepted it even as it gnawed at her. She had accepted that she had died and she hadn’t been able to step out of her brother’s shadow.

The possibility of something like that happening again should have terrified her. But instead, she had been brought to a whole new world, one where she could actually work on herself and get better.

One where she met the only person who had ever prioritised her the way she had prioritised her brother.

Her eyes softened as she looked up at the young man. She leaned in and pressed a small kiss to his jaw. “At some point, you have to learn to be comfortable with things you can’t control, Tom.” She murmured and rested her head on his chest.

“You don’t understand…” He trailed off with a barely noticeable tremor. “Death is not something that can be undone.”

She understood that better than anyone else.

“You killed before,” she responded after a pause. “What do you think of that?”

He chuckled bitterly. “I regret every fucking one of them. I took away my only chance of learning the truth when I killed those people. There was so much more I wanted to know.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I ruined that myself. I ruined everything.”

His family.

She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true- he hadn't ruined everything. And that just made her realise how skewed her perception of reality had become. On the battlefield, she had killed. People who hurt her loved ones, people who had killed those she cared for, people who hurt her- the list went on.

She wished she could say she regretted the lives she took, but the truth was that she did not. Death eaters did not feel remorse. They certainly did not care about the ones who were left behind when they slaughtered members of the Order mercilessly.

And yet, Tom Riddle, the one who was supposed to become Voldemort, regretted his murders. She couldn’t even say that she was surprised because she had known, deep down, that he was not ruthless.

He was smart, meticulous, very skilled and prone to experimenting with dark magic, but he did not have the ruthlessness and heartlessness that Voldemort possessed.

She felt like a weight had slowly been lifted off her shoulders.

There was hope for him.

“My mother died when I was a baby. It’s… how I ended up in the muggle orphanage.” Tom shared quietly, a secret in their intimate space. One that no one knew.

Merope Gaunt. She seduced his muggle father with a love potion and died of heartbreak when he didn’t stay after giving birth to Tom. Lilia tried not to be harsh, but part of her couldn’t help but wonder why her son couldn’t have given her the strength to stay alive.

“The matron told me that she died shortly after giving birth to me. And she asked for me to be named after my father.” He shook his head slightly. “She didn’t want to live. Not even for me.”

Her throat tightened as he spoke.

“I’m sorry about that.” She replied softly and reached out for his hand, lacing his fingers with hers.

“It’s fine,” he sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that… death can take away so much.” His mother. Myrtle. “And I don’t like it at all.”

She nodded. “I see your point. But you need to remember that while death is out of your control, your life is certainly not. If you keep worrying about what you can’t control, all you’ll do is wear yourself down.”

She looked up at him and gave him a small smile.

“And I would not like to see you like that. I want to see your smile for a long, long time, Tom. I want you happy and healthy.”

His mood lightened and he smirked lightly at her. “So was Icarus right? Do you want to marry me, Rousseau?”

Her cheeks turned crimson at the question and she hid her face in his neck, making him chuckle.

She laughed, soft and fragile.

But she didn’t answer.

Chapter Text

Lilia was back in that place.

The air was thick, the smell of blood and smoke curling in her lungs like it wanted to suffocate her. It felt like a dream. No- like the kind of memory that lives inside your body, buried deep until something stirs it loose.

Her skin prickled. Her throat tightened. Her mind screamed that it wasn’t real, but her body remembered everything.

To say that she was scared would be an understatement- terrified didn’t even begin to encompass what she was feeling in this moment. Hermione’s screams echoed in the distance and she didn’t want to think about what the death eaters- what Bellatrix, was doing to her friend.

Her mind was torn between concern for Hermione and apprehension at the sight of the man in front of her. She knew that separating the two girls was most likely a tactic they were using to get their walls down, to get them to spill their secrets about where Harry was. But the knowledge didn’t lessen the fear she felt at all.

Especially not when she had been thrown harshly on the ground and the monster in front of her eyes cast an immobilising charm on her.

Antonin Dolohov.

His face was long, pale, and twisted in a mocking snarl. His eyes were the darkest she had ever seen, filled with malice that could only be found in the most fanatical death eaters. And his smirk… It was as if he knew something she didn’t.

Lilia thrashed and tried to scream at him to fuck off, but her body stayed intact and all that came out was a breath. Her eye movements were the only things she could control and she tried glaring at him.

That earned her a mocking laugh.

“You look just like your mudblood mother, Potter,” he sneered, loosening the cuffs of the shirt he was wearing. The moment his hands landed on his belt, she felt her stomach churning with disgust. And fear. Always fear.

She knew what was going to happen.

“Always wondered what her cunt would feel like,” he continued crudely. Lilia tried to free herself somehow, but she couldn’t move any part of her body. Her wand had been thrown away haphazardly on the floor.

“Of course, we can’t always have what we wish for…” He unzipped his pants. “So you will do, Lilia Potter.” She wanted to scream at him to get away, she wanted to cast the torture curse on him, over and over again until he went mad.

Lilia despised being like this, helpless and at the mercy of an enemy. One with no morals whatsoever.

“Come now, don’t look at me like that. You filthy little half-breeds were made for this. You should be thanking me.”

And then, as he yanked away her clothes and forced himself on her, pressed his lips against her unmoving ones, she refused to close her eyes.

She listened to his taunts, watched the disgusting expression on his face, and made sure to convey all the hatred she felt for him in this moment through her eyes.

But she knew right then, that she had lost something inside her.

When he was finished, she was dressed and sent to Bellatrix to be tortured. While she screamed in agony from the sadistic tendencies of the witch, she could not explain the way she felt like part of her soul had detached itself from her body.

She was simultaneously experiencing the pain and watching herself being tortured.

Her body didn’t feel like her own.

A sharp gasp ripped through her lungs as Lilia bolted upright in bed.

Her hands had reached out to the side, instinctively searching for the warmth that had been at her side for so many nights now. Her breathing came in harsh gasps as she looked around, frantic. For a brief, disoriented moment, she assumed the worst- that he’d been killed.

Then, she remembered that Tom had his nightly prefect rounds to conduct.

Her fingers trembled when she rubbed her eyes as her breathing gradually became steady.

Why now?

Why him?

Why had she dreamed of that disgusting monster?

She looked down at her arms, her hands, then her knees that she had brought up to her chest. This was her own body- it was hers. She was in it, she wasn’t watching it from the perspective of some other person.

Back when she had been recovering from her time at the Malfoy manor while helping the Order with their missions, she had pushed away the violation that had happened.

She’d buried it so deep she’d convinced herself it didn’t need revisiting.

The first crack had appeared when she met Dimitri Dolohov over the winter break. His unmistakable features had scratched at that part of her that she had never thought of digging up again.

And now… Now, she was seeing him in her dreams- no, her nightmares.

They had gone down- she didn’t have as many nightmares as she did when she first came in this time period. They tended to be fleeting at best: she would wake up with ragged breathing but with no memories of what she had seen in her sleep.

It had been both a blessing and a curse- those had been the only times when she could see the people she had loved dearly again. And yet, all of these dreams were tainted with war, pain, death.

Lilia had gotten better. She had been healing very slowly.

The image of Antonin Dolohov in her mind tonight made her feel like she was back at square one. It was like the band aid had been ripped off the wound that she had pushed away so desperately, overpowered by the urge to take care of the people around her. Especially Harry.

Yet, now, without the threat of Voldemort and with the safety that she had slowly cultivated with the Slytherins… This wound could not be ignored anymore.

With a heavy sigh, she silently got out of bed and sat at her desk. Her two other roommates were asleep, their drapes drawn around their beds. She glanced at the time and took out one of her books on magical creatures.

Tom wouldn’t be back for another hour or so. She would wait for him- she felt like she needed to be in his arms to feel safe and to fall back asleep.

Her mind, however, kept wondering even as she read over a very interesting paragraph on the diricawl and its feeding habits.

She had been raped by Dolohov in the Malfoy manor.

Part of her felt a sick sense of violation when she remembered what Theo had told her when she had summoned him using the resurrection stone: that Voldemort had found out about what Dolohov had done and had punished him for it. The ring glinted on her finger.

The thought that all those death eaters knew about what had been done to her made her body heat in shame. On top of being the sister of the boy who lived, she was now also a victim.

Back then, she hadn’t given it much of a thought. What had happened couldn’t be changed. She had thought about whether using a time-turner to prevent those events from taking place would actually have made a difference. But then, what had held her back had been purely selfish- she didn’t want to carry the wound of something that never happened.

It was a burden she didn’t want to have on her shoulder.

Now… she didn’t know what people in her own time would think of her. Did they assume her dead? Would the death eaters simply laugh about it, call it weakness expected of a half-breed whore? Or would they cower at the sight of Dolohov’s fate- a reminder that the dark lord wasn’t to be undermined at any cost?

Did the Order members know? Her chest tightened at the thought. Would they finally empathize with her? Realise she had really lost too much of herself in that war, too?

Lilia hated how she felt the urge to be seen in some way or the other, to be acknowledged. She wanted her pain to be seen by everyone she had loved. She didn’t want to keep it hidden anymore.

Her eyes went over the same paragraph repeatedly as she thought about it.

Then, her mind wandered to Tom. She bit her lower lip. She would have to tell him the truth one day or the other. If not about the fact that she was a time-traveler, then at least about the wound she still carried from the violation that she had endured.

Lilia held Tom in such high esteem and yet, she couldn’t tell what his reaction would be. Would he find it contradictory- the fact that she had endured something like this but still enjoyed sex with him? Would he see her as broken? As tainted? Would the way he touched her change? Would he find her repulsive- for carrying a scar like that? Her physical scars didn’t disgust him in the least, but for this emotional one, she didn’t know what to expect of him.

Back in the nineties, she had known about rape. It was this taboo subject that was always spoken about behind closed doors and in barely audible whispers. It was only supposed to be something that was spoken about, not experienced.

But she hadn’t been this lucky.

Even now, she wasn’t sure she was processing it properly. How had it actually been this easy for her to simply push away what had happened aside? Once, she questioned herself- wondered if that had really happened or if Dolohov had somehow infiltrated her mind to trick her into believing it had happened.

The scars and bruises on her body, completely unrelated to Bellatrix’s torture, had been a loud proof of what the truth had been.

Lilia gripped the book tighter than ever, her knuckles turning white.

She owed Tom the truth, especially after the patience, trust, and care that he had shown her. She trusted him and she knew him well. She could only hope that he would not leave her behind when she told him that part of her past.

If Tom left her, Lilia wasn’t sure she would be able to take it- the rejection after baring the ugliest parts of herself to him.

The sound of footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked back just as Tom walked into the room, shutting the door silently behind him. He faltered briefly when he saw her at her desk, reading. His eyes narrowed slightly as he approached her.

“What did I tell you about your sleep, Lilia?” He asked, voice barely a whisper. Strict in the way that sent chills down her back.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered before shutting her book. “I was waiting for you.”

He took one look at her pallor, the way some dark circles had appeared under her eyes and the small furrow of her brows. “Nightmare?” He asked, taking off his robes before using his wand to switch his current clothes with his silk pyjamas.

She nodded.

Tom extinguished the candle on her desk and helped her up, pulling back the covers on her bed. He followed her and wrapped his arms around her body before tugging the blanket up to her chin.

Lilia’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment. Her body had already relaxed from the moment his arms wrapped themselves around her, holding her securely against him. His chest was strong and warm against her back, like a shield. Her nightmare and her morose thoughts didn’t seem as heavy anymore.

“You haven’t had one in a while,” he murmured. Then he pressed his lips to the top of her head, leaving a small kiss there. Her hands found his, fingers wrapping around his knuckles in a silent plea for comfort.

“I know. I guess I just thought they’d be done once and for all, you know?” She whispered.

“That’s not how it works. You shouldn’t hold yourself to standards when you’re simply trying to heal.”

She let out a small breath. “Tom, how do you know so much about… healing? When it comes to past experiences or just feelings?”

“When I was at the orphanage, I often thought about how none of my parents wanted me.” His voice was low but she heard him clearly. “My mother didn’t find it worth living on for me and my father never came to look for me.” He paused. “One day, I found a book in a donation box on the streets of muggle London. It was an odd book that focused on the validation of feelings. The author’s name is Carl Rogers.”

She listened intently as the name rang a bell. For some reason, she hadn’t expected books with this level of emotional awareness to be present in this time period. How could that be the case when there were so many wars still ongoing? Perhaps, that had been an unreasonable assumption.

“It’s where I learned that it takes a lot of time and patience to accept that what happened hurts, that I can’t keep punishing myself with thoughts like these for things that I can’t control.” His lips brushed against her hair as he spoke. “I’m still trying. And it’s something that you should also learn.”

“Not blaming myself for things that were out of my control?” She asked quietly.

He nodded. “You didn’t choose to be thrown into a war, to kill, to be plagued with nightmares. You only did what you had to do because of your circumstances. You have to learn to accept that, Lilia. You are too harsh on yourself.”

A lump formed in her throat. Would he blame her if she told him the truth about what Antonin Dolohov had done to her? For a moment, she debated sharing this piece of her past with him. But then, his arms tightened around her and his head rested on her shoulder.

“I’m trying,” she whispered.

“I know you are.”

After some time, her breathing evened out as she fell asleep in his arms. It was adorable- the knowledge that being in his arms made her feel safe enough to be vulnerable.

Yet, his mind replayed the words he’d told her.

Nothing could ever excuse the murders he had caused. It was almost never the murders themselves that haunted his thoughts- rather, it was the what-ifs.

What if he had given his muggle family more time to get used to the idea of him? What if his father had looked him in the face and told him he had been looking for him? What if Myrtle had simply told him the truth about how the relentless bullying was draining the life out of her? What if he had held and reassured Myrtle the same way he did with Lilia?

He replayed those questions over and over again until the girl in his arms shifted so that she could nuzzle her face in his chest.

The action, subconscious and achingly trusting, dragged him out of his morose train of thoughts. The fact that she sought him out even in sleep made him feel like he was the most important person in her life.

It made him feel cherished, cared for.

Tom pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before drifting off to sleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Icarus asked, eyes wide with shock.

“Lestrange,” Tom chided coldly.

“Give me a break, Riddle! What do you mean, Nikolai works for Grindelwald?” Icarus looked at Lilia, who was sitting awkwardly on one of the chairs in the classroom. The others were also casually slouched in different chairs. Icarus was on a table.

The Slytherins were gathered in the Room of Requirement as finals were now coming to an end. The only remaining finals were Potions and Advanced Transfiguration. Then, they would be done with their sixth year.

This meeting was strategically timed so that they could both focus on their next moves and have enough time to dedicate to their studying. Courtesy of Tom.

Lilia told them about the letter from Grindelwald while Tom told them about what he saw during his prefect rounds that night.

“Why didn’t you wake us up?” Celeste asked Lilia, reaching out to hold her friend’s hand and squeezing slightly. “We would have accompanied you.”

“You were both asleep,” Lilia replied, squeezing her hand back. “And a letter from Grindelwald seemed like something that wouldn’t let you fall back asleep easily.”

“It’s still dangerous!” Evangeline exclaimed, face slightly pale. “He hurt you severely during the winter break, don’t you remember? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were pretty much on the verge of dying.”

Lilia winced, Tom stiffened, and everyone else shifted uncomfortably at the reminder.

“He wouldn’t be able to hurt me. The wards protecting Hogwarts are strong,” Lilia reassured.

“They are supposed to be infallible," Abraxas corroborated. Everyone seemed to agree, except for Lilia. The latter knew that that was not the case- they hadn’t held up during the battle in Hogwarts. They hadn’t protected her friends, her brother. She looked down at her lap, fingers absently tugging on a loose thread from her skirt.

“Right.” She muttered even though she didn’t believe it. “The only reason why I even got that letter is most likely because of Nikolai. He must have found a way to get in our room and leave it on my desk.” She had no idea about how he could have guessed which one was hers.

“And then you had to burn the letter to talk to him. Clever,” Tiernan remarked. “No proof that he got through the wards in one way or the other.”

“Well, what do we do now?” Icarus asked.

“I’ll have to let Dumbledore know about this,” Lilia replied. “Grindelwald is a wanted dark wizard. Dumbledore can let the aurors know about Nikolai.” She paused.

Tom’s voice cut through, low and measured. “We need answers from him first.” Her eyes met his and for a moment, she faltered. She was about to say the same thing. She nodded. “Yes, we need answers. Why is he here? What is he looking for? What does he want from us?”

“From you,” Abraxas added, looking at her with a pointed stare.

Her cheeks heated slightly. “From me,” she agreed.

“So, are you ever going to tell us about that secret that you’re hiding that makes you so valuable for Grindelwald?” Malfoy asked, his blue eyes sharp and assessing the girl. For a brief moment, his eyes slid down to her lips and he remembered that day in the Three Broomsticks when he wiped off butterbeer from her skin. He quickly looked back up, his neutral expression hiding how flustered he actually felt at the memory.

Abraxas had adopted a practical point of view when it came to his relationships, his friendships. He had observed the way Tom and Lilia had suffered from being apart after their fallout after Valentine’s day. Though it stung to admit it, he could see the genuine care they had for each other.

Even now, Tom was sitting next to Lilia, not touching. But his body was angled towards her as if to shield her in case something were to happen. Lilia mirrored his position too.

Rousseau was full of mysteries and while that might have been part of her appeal, Abraxas could see the sincerity of his closest friend’s feelings for her. The more he himself thought about it, Lilia was intriguing, full of secrets and mysteries that she didn’t reveal easily.

He was never sure of the opinion he were to form of her.

Lilia hesitated as she pondered over Abraxas’ question. It wasn’t fair to hold back that information from them, especially when they were all on Grindelwald’s radar because of her. “I can’t give you specifics.” She began cautiously. “But what he wants from me has to do with how he could win his wars.”

“What do you mean?” Malfoy asked.

Everyone stared at her but she didn’t shrink under the weight of their gazes. Instead, she took in a deep breath. She could give them a bit of the truth, even if she would obviously be omitting important details.

“Back home, I was part of a group of people. Our aim was to bring him down. Dig into his secrets, find ways to destruct vital parts of his plan to take over the world, keep innocents safe.” Her voice was slightly strained.

“We found information that was very… personal but important to bring him down. But we were severely overpowered. We were a small group and he had  armies.” She continued. “His armies were full of witches and wizards who loved creating chaos everywhere. They kidnapped people, tortured them, killed them.” Her breath shook slightly. “We lost.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Her last words seemed to echo in the room. Losing meant that lives had been ruined, taken abruptly.

“He’s after the information I have,” she concluded quietly.

“Why can’t you tell us-” Tiernan began.

“That’s enough for now,” Tom interrupted, hand reaching out to wrap around Lilia’s shoulders. “She told us enough.”

She looked at him and gave him a small, grateful smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, but knowing that Tom would always be on her side like this made her feel so… alive.

“So how do we plan on getting answers?” Evangeline asked, looking over each of her friends’ faces.

“We do it the simple and polite way- we ask him.” Tom mused.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A loud thud echoed across the empty room that the group had summoned in the Room of Requirement.

Nikolai’s body slumped against the wall of the room that looked oddly similar to descriptions that Lilia had heard about the Chamber of Secrets. However, there were no defining objects and so, she could only speculate. The walls and ground were made of stone, and the light in the room was dim. She couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.

However, she did feel chills as she stared around before her eyes landed back on Nikolai.

'The simple and polite way' meant tricking the American boy into following her to the room, which she passed off as a place that often goes unnoticed. As soon as they were in, Icarus and Tiernan greeted him with a powerful spell that sent him crashing to the ground.

Tom simply watched as the two threw spells at Nikolai, who quickly retaliated.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He exclaimed, making a shield with his wand to protect himself from the two boys.

“Just having a little fun, Wilfred.” Icarus grinned before sending a powerful hex his way. The spell bounced off Nikolai’s red shield, which flickered once.

“Yeah, don’t you like having fun?” Tiernan added.

Abraxas, Evangeline, and Celeste looked tense as they waited for Tom or Lilia to say something.

Lilia’s eyes trailed over to Tom, standing next to her, his eyes focused on Wilfred. She realised that he wasn’t one to throw out spells recklessly for the sake of payback or punishment. When Tom cast spells, it was measured, calculated. He never did it without reason. The only times she had seen him at work was during the Hogsmeade attack and when they practised together.

Another memory made chills go down her spine.

He had also cast a spell during the ball in the Malfoy manor to show Grindelwald what he had invented. The same spell that had been the cause of Remus’ death.

For a moment, her throat felt too tight.

She closed her eyes briefly, focusing on her mind while she built some mental walls. She would not think about this right now. They all had one task to do- and that was to get the truth from Nikolai.

When she blinked, her gaze remained on the prefect next to her. She was choosing to believe that he would not turn out to be the way he was in her past. Her Tom could never turn into Voldemort.

“You’re staring,” he murmured. His voice was low but it cut through the noise of the three other boys dualling in the room. Then, his eyes met hers. Her cheeks heated and she quickly looked away.

“No, I wasn’t,” she lied.

His lips quirked up in a knowing smirk while his eyes twinkled slightly. “Oh?”

She frowned and sent him a half-hearted glare. “Can we stay focused? We have a job here.”