The next morning, Delilah was wandering the halls when she came upon a large arch way carved from stone. Once she neared it and was able to look inside, a wide smiled pulled her lips back and a laugh tumbled out from her lungs.

  "Now that's just showing off."

  The library was massive. It wasn't bigger than the Hogwarts one of course, but the ceilings were higher and were intricately carved. Corinthian columns stood at the end of each isle to hold up the ceiling, and at the top of each was a statue of a kneeling person, appearing to hold up the roof with their backs. It was beautiful but Delilah had a sick feeling that was probably supposed to represent a muggle.

  She wandered down numerous rows and her mind raced with all the new titles, some incredibly dark. Books such as these would either be in the restricted section at Hogwarts or purely banned.

  Her curiosity got the best of her and she tried to reach for a book on blood magic that was on the sixth shelf, but even on her toes it was a fruitless attempt. She didn't have her wand with her, which was quite stupid and really growing to be a bad habit.

  In her bout of struggle, she failed to notice the footsteps approaching. A pale hand reached out directly above her and easily grabbed the book she was trying to reach.

  Delilah yelped in surprise and spun around to find Tom standing barley a foot in front of her. Instinct kicked in and she backed away, only to knock into the bookshelf. He didn't move away, nor did he come closer. Not like it mattered, there's was probably only ten inches at max between them.

  He studied the old and tattered book, the pages yellow with age. "Blood Ritual Magic? Quite dark for you, isn't it?" He was met with her steady gaze, her expression blank. He hated it. Usually if Tom did something like this, even just standing close to her, he managed to get at least a small twitch of a reaction. But she was giving him nothing.

  "May I have that?" Delilah held out her hand and now it was his turn to stare at her.

  He realized he'd crossed a certain boundary after dinner last night, seeing as every moment afterwards she acted as if he didn't exist. He was annoyed at the fact that he was annoyed. He shouldn't care, and Tom kept telling himself he didn't. But watching her eyes pass over him as if he was just anyone else, someone she didn't know, someone she took no interest in, it made his stomach give an unpleasant lurch.

  "Riddle." She snapped her fingers and made a grabbing motion for the book, as if she was telling a five year old to do something. He raised a brow at her. "Did you just snap your fingers at me?" He promptly crossed his arms over his chest, tucking the book against his side.

  Delilah ignored how his muscles pulled against the fabric of his shirt. She wasn't use to seeing any of the boys out of their school uniforms, it was a bit overwhelming.

  "Yes, or are you blind? You're acting like an incompetent child. Now give me the book." She bit.

  Tom tilted his head to the side, purely amused. He was just content with getting a reaction out of her that he decided to let the insult pass. He sighed and pulled the book out in front of him, Delilah made a grab for it but he pulled the novel back. He raised his brows at her, as a silent sign to wait.

  He flicked the book open to a random page. He's read it before, but it had been about two years since the last time he was at Avery Manor.

  It was a fascinating study, blood magic. And was rarely used in the modern era, considering there were easier and less dangerous means of conducting some rituals. The spells were complicated and intricate, only those with high intellect and patience could achieve the level of sophistication needed.

  And oh how he itched to experiment with it.

  "Did you know blood rituals often involve a symbolic means of death and rebirth, as literal bodily birth involves bleeding? It's a fascinating study. There's also a few rare cases where a wizard has gained the capability of blood manipulation-"

  "It was a witch, actually." Delilah scolded herself mentally for even talking to him. But despite herself, her curiosity was peaked.

  Tom yet again brought up the topic of rebirth or immortality. Their conversation all those months ago in the Three Broomsticks was still fresh in her mind, how Ouroboros reminded her of the Death Eaters. That pang in the back of her mind struck again, similar to the time she first heard Tom's name. A familiarity. Like she should know or recognize something.

  "I find it curious you know about the story." He said, no matter how much she annoyed him, Delilah was full of mysteries he couldn't simply dismiss.

  "And I the same for you." Delilah lifted her chin as a means for defiance, though it didn't really appear to be much considering he was a foot taller than her.

  "Really?" He mused and put the book back on the high shelf, well out of her reach. "You appear to have my character so well figured out, I thought you would've known such a topic intrigues me."

  Delilah narrowed her eyes at him as he rested a hand on the shelf directly next to her head, effectively cutting her off from exiting. "Well it appears we're both disappointments."

  Tom bit lightly at his cheek, her behavior was growing a tad irksome. Could she really be that mad about what he said last night? What was she expecting, for him to tell off Cain's parents for their blood views they've been raised on for centuries?

  Whatever last bit of hope she had in him, he'd torn it to shreds last night. Was she herself a muggle born? He didn't think so, she was too powerful and even he could admit, brilliant. Even if she didn't think so herself.

  He knew certain blood prejudice was illogical. He wasn't a pureblood, yet he was the most skilled student in Hogwarts.

  But he couldn't dismiss the filth of muggle blood. A hatred for it was embedded deep in his heart thanks to his disgusting excuse of a father. And although his mother was a pureblood witch, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, she was weak and succumbed to the charms of a handsome man who could offer her nothing. All the while she forced his hand in love. His mother should've known better, falling for a muggle only brought her torment and eventually death.

  Delilah held her breath at the look on Tom's face. It was distant, and for the first time, she was witnessing Tom Riddle with his guard down. He was lost in thought, his eyes seemed a lighter tint of brown and unfocused, his usual tight jaw was relaxed, and he was biting at the inside of his cheek.

  For the first time, he looked his age, he looked like a teen with boyishly charming features, and an uncharacteristic innocence seemed to relax his face.

  She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. But Delilah feared if she spoke, the trance would be broken. Burnt wood, parchment, and cigarettes spread out through her hollow chest as a strange sense of comfort took hold of her. His scent was growing to be a familiarity.

  "Del, you in here?" Cain's voice echoed off the stone walls and the spell was broken.

  Tom stiffened up again and blinked at how close they were, his face was merely six inches from hers.

  Peppermint overwhelmed him and he backed away. Delilah cleared her throat and shuffled away from Tom, her heels clicking loudly as she made her way towards Cain's voice. "Yeah, I'm coming."

  Cain was waiting in the archway with a large envelope, the Hogwarts seal looked like blood against the yellow parchment. "This came for you," the weight of it was surprisingly heavy and she thanked him. It wasn't signed by anyone, but her name was written in a slanted elegant scrawl that could only belong to one person.

  Dumbledore.

  Delilah cursed under her breath and ran to her room, she knew she shouldn't have come there. Dumbledore said he didn't exactly approve of her going, but he didn't see the harm.

  Had he figured something out? Was he having second thoughts on letting her go to Yule Ball? Did he want her to return to Hogwarts? "Why am I so stupid?" She muttered and fumbled with her door for a moment before stumbling inside.

  She threw herself on the bed and ripped open the letter.

  Dear Miss Pontmercy,

  I apologize for interrupting your holiday so soon, but certain matters have arose that I cannot push off until your return in two weeks.
  As promised, I have gone through most of your memories now, but there are a select few I need to discuss with you, to get a more in depth view and explanation. I'm afraid some are rather vague, and though I'm sure you had good intentions, it has come to my attention you have altered some as well. And in order to come to a conclusion to get you home as soon as possible, I need you to allow me to see everything clearly.
  I have already requested for a floo opening in your room to direct you straight to my office at eleven this morning. I understand that hasn't given you much time, and I do hope this letter will reach you soon enough. I can't be sure how long this meeting will take place, but as a precaution I suggest packing some clothes in case you have to stay the night.

  And if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like you to ask Mr. Avery if he can acquire some lemon pastries?

  I look forward to what this meeting will reveal,

  Dumbledore

  Her mind raced at what memory she could've possibly tampered with. She didn't do it on purpose, but whatever memory she did try to change, it had to be for good reason. It was most likely the months she was being held at Malfoy Manor, she didn't want anyone seeing that point in her life. She didn't even want to see it again. If she did, it would be like reliving those months of hell.

  Her back began to ache again at the mere thought of that dreadful year, and Bellatrix's maniacal laughter echoed in her head like a siren. Her hand reached behind her, she could feel the bumps of scar tissue through her light blouse and a shiver shook her body.

  She didn't see why it was important for Dumbledore to see that part of her past. Perhaps she could talk him out of it? No, that would be pointless. She couldn't recall Dumbledore being talked out of anything.

  The clock chimed and it was ten o'clock, she had an hour. She read over the note again and felt a small smile tug at her lips. He at least seemed to be in a decent mood.

  "Um, hello?" Her voice bounced around the empty room, she wasn't sure on how to call upon the house elves. But not a second later, there was a loud crack and an old elf appeared with large, bright green eyes staring at her.

  "Does missus Pontmercy require anything? Gilroy would be most happy to assist!" He bent down in a low bow, his pointed nose nearly touching the floor.

  Delilah smiled as she remembered Hermione's s.p.e.w club, the amount of socks she knitted that year was quite impressive.

  "Good morning, Gilroy."

  The house elf wailed and his eyes began to water, but he sniffed away the tears. "Oh, Missus is so kind already!" He cheered and bowed yet again.

  "I was wondering if you could ask the kitchens to prepare a small batch of lemon pastries? And maybe put them in a basket? I have to leave in an hour and would appreciate it greatly if they could be ready by then?"

  Gilroy nodded, his large ears flopping with the quick movement. "Oh yes of course, Gilroy would be happy to serve you! I'll make sure they're right on time and wrapped nicely, especially for your kindness! Oh, Missus is so kind." He continued to blubber as he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

  Delilah felt herself frown at the notion that he, as well as many other house elves, were treated poorly. Like lesser beings, like vermin. She wondered if she could find a way to free him, but would he accept? She's come into contact with many elves who refused to be freed, they knew no other life.

  With a heavy sigh, she waved her wand and packed an overnight bag in case she'd have to stay at Hogwarts. She didn't feel like running around the manor to tell everyone she had to depart. Plus, she had no idea what to tell them.

  She could send a Patronus, but Merlin, would that arise some unwanted questions.

  "Oh, y'know. I'm just running off to have a secret meeting with Dumbledore about how I time traveled from the future. Did you know I was killed by a Dark Wizard? No? Oh well it's a fascinating tale. But I didn't die, instead I ended up in the forties! And I've been stuck in the past for four months with a fake name, a fake past, a fake story.I've been lying to you all!" She rambled to herself as she tried to fix her hair in the mirror.

  Yes, that would definitely blow over well with everyone. A part of her mused at the thought of telling Cain's parents they were a bunch of conceited, blood prejudiced cunts. Oh, how horrified they'd be! But that daydream would not happen today, sadly.

  Walking over to her dresser, she wrote a quick note explaining she was visiting a friend and would possibly be staying the night. That was convincing enough, at least she hoped so.

 
  Nearly an hour passed, and ten minutes before eleven there was a crack that made Delilah jump from her chair.

  Gilroy presented her with a large basket, steam rolled out the top, peaking through the seams of the quilt. The smell of lemon zest danced around her and she smiled at the elf as she took the basket, taking a pastry out and offering it to him. "Thank you Gilroy, and if anyone asks where I went, tell them I left a note."

  Gilroy nodded as tears spilled from his large eyes, he seemed hesitant to take the pastry, but Delilah wasn't leaving till he took it from her fingers. "Oh, Missus is so kind." He offered her a bowl with floo powder and she grabbed a handful before stepping into the fireplace.

  "Dumbledore's office!" She threw the powder down and green flames engulfed her, the dizziness was dreadful and she didn't know why it was affecting her so immensely. Her vision wavered and Delilah nearly blacked out as she landed in her Transfigurations Professors fireplace.

  She slumped against the wall and coughed through the ash that spiraled upward. "Ah, you made it!" Dumbledore's voice met her ears and she shook her head, there was a dull ache at the base of her skull and she ignored the pain.

  "Here you are, good to see you Sir." She handed him the basket and his crooked nose took a deep sniff of the wafting lemon scent. "Lovely, thank you."

  He set the basket down and conjured two plates, as well as butterbeer. Delilah raised a brow, but didn't question it. "Please sit, you look rather pale. Are you alright?" He asked, his bright eyes examining her carefully.

  As she walked, she seemed to sway, and her body landed heavily in the chair. "I'm fine, just a bit dizzy." She mustered up a smile and reached for the tankard, her hand was shaking a bit and she narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Maybe it was because she hasn't eaten yet, and flooing on an empty stomach wasn't the best.

  "Now, I know interrupting your holiday so soon is probably not wanted, but I stress this is important. Even if you don't see it as such." Dumbledore sat back in his chair, hands steepled beneath his chin, his gaze boring into her skull. She shifted a bit and slowly chewed on a pastry. "Okay," she said timidly.

  Dread pooled in her stomach as he pulled out three vials, and one of course, was her year she was trapped in Malfoy Manor.

  Her jaw clenched painfully and her eyes found his, "Sir, please, I can't." Dumbledore frowned at the look of pain on her face, there was a raw look in her eyes and she seemed to shrink in on herself.

  "I understand this must be difficult for you, but-"

  "Do you?" How could Dumbledore possibly understand? He was one of the most secretive people she knew, he never let anyone know about his past, he kept it well hidden.

  She knew about his sister Ariana, about his troubled relationship with his brother Aberforth, and about his connection with Grindelwald. But he would never divulge that to her willingly, because it would hurt.

  A shallow breath passed through his nose, and Delilah could suddenly see the weariness of age in him. He looked exhausted. Peaks of silver we're starting to invade his auburn hair, the lines under his eyes more deep, and he seemed fragile in a sense. It was off putting, his aura was still powerful, but nonetheless it made Delilah feel weary.

  Dumbledore was always supposed to be strong.

  "Pardon me, Professor. It's just," she paused and rubbed at her eyes, the headache was still pounding resolutely in the back of her head. "It's bad. The memory, I mean. It's dreadful to watch, and I have a hard time even thinking about it, so watching it...reliving it. I fear it'll be too much."

  "I can offer you a calming draught?"

  Delilah closed her eyes and attempted to steady her breathing. She knew he wouldn't budge. Yes, a calming solution would be helpful. But nonetheless, those months were worse than anything she's ever experienced. And having someone, Dumbledore, see her at her weakest and most vulnerable self set an alarm off in her head. She wanted to turn and run. But she knew she couldn't.

  If he truly believed this could help her to get home, she had to try.

  "Alright."

  Delilah threw her body back from the pensive as soon as the memory was over. Her throat felt tight, she couldn't breathe, and her body was shaking.

  She had to keep reminding herself that it was over. It was over. It was all over. It's in the past. Bellatrix can't hurt her anymore. But the pain in her back felt like her skin was on fire, the torment purely psychosomatic, yet real all at once.

  She couldn't even attempt to look at Dumbledore. Delilah didn't think she could bare seeing his reaction. Her screams still echoed in her head, her pleas, her bouts of weakness.

  "Can I go, sir? Can we talk about it tomorrow? Please." Her vision swam as she stood, her legs struggled to hold her weight as she made her way towards the door.

  Whether or not he said yes, she was leaving.

  "Delilah." His tone was foreign, she couldn't place it. Whether his voice held a hint of pity, or he was disturbed, she didn't know. "I'll be in my dorm."

  With that she left.

  Dumbledore fell limp in his chair, staring intently at the place where Delilah sat only moments before. He looked at the clock and noticed they'd been inside the memories for nearly three hours.

  Three hours. For three hours he sat and watched a teenage girl get tortured.

  His heart felt heavy, she reminded him of Ariana in some sense. Delilah wasn't able to defend herself properly and she suffered greatly for it. But no, Delilah was different, she was still alive and still fighting.

  He recognized Malfoy Manor almost as soon as they entered the memories. Solely because of the many portraits hanging in a room Delilah was repeatedly dragged through.

  "Poor dear." He took off his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the flashes of red out of his mind. How could anyone do that to a person? Let alone a child?

  Instead of heading to the Slytherin common room, Delilah found herself in front of the Ravenclaw entryway. She needed some sense of familiarity with her life, her actual life. Not this screwed up show she was currently performing in.

  She stared up at the large wooden door with a bronze knocker that was enchanted to spew riddles any time someone wanted in.

  She raised an arm that felt too heavy and knocked once.

  "It brings back the lost as though never gone, shines laughter and tears with light long since shone; a moment to make, a lifetime to shed; valued then but lost when your dead. What Is It?"

  She felt like shooting a reducto at the bloody door.

  "A memory." She bit and yanked on the knocker as soon as the door unlocked.

  As soon as she stepped inside, the remaining Ravenclaws stared at her wide eyed. Delilah froze for only a moment, thinking she was intruding. But no. This was her home. Ravenclaw was where she truly belonged. She had every right to be there.

  Finally, a girl in her fifth year stood up and made a face. "Oi, what do you think-"

"Oh fuck off, are there any seventh years still here?" The students stared blankly at her until a boy with curly red hair cleared his throat, he looked maybe fifteen or sixteen years old.

  It was that boy she saw in Honeydukes the first time she went down to Hogsmeade. "There's about six female seventh years still here, but the boys' dormitory is empty." He had a heavy Birmingham accent, something not common, and his cheeks were scattered with freckles. "I'm Septimus."

  "I don't care."

  With that she started off up the stairs, but stopped three steps up. Turning slowly, her eyes were wide as she looked Septimus over head to toe. "What's your last name?"

  He fidgeted under her heavy gaze and eyed his friends for help, but they ignored him. Delilah quickly realized she probably wasn't the most popular person in the school, or easily approachable.

  She was a seventh year Slytherin that hung out with a handful of the most pompous, wealthy, pureblood students. Not to mention Tom, whom everyone either admired, envied, or feared.

  "Weasley, why?" Septimus mumbled and pulled at the collar of his jumper.

  A whimper involuntarily left her lips as Delilah fell forward and crushed the redhead into a hug. He froze for a second before awkwardly patting her back. "You alright, love?"

  "Yeah." She gasped, she couldn't breath. "I'm alright."

  This was Ron's grandfather. And seeing him, a boy who looked so much like her friend, it was overwhelming. The emotional whiplash of this, plus revisiting her memories. It was too much. "I realize this is probably very weird for you and makes no sense whatsoever, but I really need this hug." She mumbled into his shirt, the wool itching her cheeks.

  "Okay then." Septimus said slowly. He firmly wrapped his arms around her to give her a proper hug, and he looked at his friends with a puzzled expression. "What do I do?" He mouthed, only to get unhelpful shrugs as a response. He smoothed down her wild hair and cleared his throat yet again, "why don't we get you up to a bed and rest, that sound alright?"

  Not trusting her voice, Delilah settled for a nod and let him lead her up to the empty seventh years dormitories. "You can take any bed, shout if you need anything. And if you're not down before dinner I'll come and get you." The smile he gave her shot a pain in her sides, physically he reminded her of Ron, but how he acted reminded her so much of Molly. "

  "Thank you." His blue eyes were warm and he nodded before departing.

  She sank into the blue sheets, running nimble fingers over the soft fabric. And for this first time in what felt like years, Delilah felt like she actually fit in with her surroundings. Like she was meant to be there.

  The wind rattled the windows, they were fogged over with ice and snow and Christmas decorations lined the edge.

  She'd nearly forgotten Christmas was in a little over a week. The last time she had a proper Christmas with her family was nearly four years ago. Delilah had finally gotten a record player, something she'd been begging for incessantly. The joy she felt opening that present seemed so childish now. How ignorant her past self was to the dangerous and horrors that lied ahead.

  Her head sunk into the pillow, and within moments, she was out.

"I don't see why you won't let me go." She prodded at a mysterious lump in her soup with a spoon, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "I feel like it's obvious," Delilah continued.

  Luna slapped her hand lightly and made a pointed gesture at Kreacher, who was glowering at her.

  "What's more confusing, is why you won't let me go." Harry said and was met with a multitude of scoffs.

  "Harry, do you not realize how idiotic it would be sending you into the Ministry? You're an Undesirable, the most wanted. It'd be suicide." Hermione tried to push her point across even further with a rather dramatic bite of an apple.

  "But I could use Polyjuice potion, do we have any left?" He tried to reach for Hermione's bag, but she yanked it away from his reach. "They'd know it was you in a heartbeat."

  "She's right." Ron said through a mouthful of bread. They hadn't eaten a proper meal in nearly a month, so Hermione didn't bother to scold him.

  "That's why it'd be the smartest choice to send me, for one the Ministry nor the Death Eaters know I'm a part of the Order, and they aren't even aware I know Harry." Everything she was saying made sense, but the group still refused to permit it.

  "We can't send a child into a mission like this, not with such high risks." Kingsley's baritone rung throughout the small room.

  "But it would be an even greater risk to send anyone else!" The plea in her voice was barely hidden. "Not only would I be the safest bet, but I'd probably have the highest rate of success-"

  "I know you want revenge for what Bellatrix did to you, but Delilah-" Molly began, only to be cut off by the girl hitting the table with a fist. "That is not what this is about."

  "My judgement of my own personal safety is not clouded, I assure you. Give me one logical reason I wouldn't be the best choice of person for this job? And you cannot say my age, and I swear to Merlin if you bring up my past. We all want revenge on someone, one way or the other. All of us. Neville, Ginny, Luna, Hermione, George, Harry... all of us have had something taken. So do not try to use that against me as a reason to keep me sitting here on my ass and do nothing."

  All the adults stared at one another, Kingsley however kept a steady gaze with Delilah. "If we allow you to do this," he began slowly and clearly, drawing everyone's attention. "There is a high probability of death."

  She didn't allow herself to blink and she forced her breathing to calm, her heart pulsed slowly, the noise thudding softly in her ears.

  "I will not fail you, I owe you all that. But if I do end up dying," Delilah rubbed at her eyes and caught sight of Hermione, her heart stirring a little at the sight of her friend's tears. "Spare me a thought now and then."

  Her blue eyes caught the green of Harry's. His jaw was stiff and he looked angry, but not at her. No, it was something else. There was also a stroke of sadness in his gaze that she couldn't place.

  Once dinner was over, she barely walked out of the kitchen when someone was pulling on her sleeve. She was tugged into a small offside closet and the light was so dim she could barely see. "Harry what-"

  His hug knocked the wind out of her, his wild black hair tickling her cheek.

Thank you." He said. But there was something wrong with his voice. There was an underlying error, a higher pitch almost. Something didn't fit. There was a hint of coldness. "Harry? You okay?" She pulled her head back to look him in the eye and a scream ripped through her lungs.

  Red had replaced the beautiful green of Harry's eyes, his skin was growing more sickly and pale. "I said thank you, my dear." That voice. It wasn't his, the warmness and comfort of it was gone.

  That voice could only belong to one person.

  She blinked rapidly and rubbed at her eyes, the vision of Harry was growing blurry. Delilah blacked out for only a moment before her surroundings completely changed.

  Her body lay limp on cold marble tile, though something warm was coating her body. It was her blood, she soon realized. And the person in front of her was not Harry, no not at all.

  The person looming over her was Lord Voldemort.

  "Well isn't that just tragic?" He hissed softly, twisting his wand to the left and Delilah's back gave a painful arch, there was a sickening crack and she screamed. Her nerves felt like they were on fire.

  "One would think if the Order thought retrieving this was so important, they wouldn't have sent such an incompetent, pathetic child to fetch it." He twisted his wand again, and her body threw itself in the opposite direction, her head slamming into the floor. Another painful scream tore its way from her throat and she could taste blood.

  "Oh, my sincere apologies. You loathe being considered pathetic, Miss Meddows. Don't you?" There was an odd glint in his red eyes, almost like he knew her. Despite all the pain running through her body, Delilah furrowed her brows. She's never met Voldemort in person, barely anyone has. "How do you-"

  But he flicked his wand, this time with more vigor and there was a snarl on his pale lips as a single word rolled off his tongue.

  "Crucio!"

  Screaming was the only sound she could register as two hands shook her violently. Her throat felt raw and her lungs were being pushed to their limit, constricting tightly in her chest.

  "Delilah!" Someone yelled. She didn't know the voice. Were they going to hurt her? The hands touching her, would they harm her?

  Without a second missed, she curled in on herself, murmuring a runic spell in quick recession, "hanc corporis defendere et tueri oportet quod." Her arms then pushed forward, her palms splayed and a burst of red exploded from her hands.

  There was a yell and someone was thrown across the room.

  Her eyes widened as soon as she realized who she just set on fire. "Oh my god!" She flicked her wand and quickly put out the fire engulfing Septimus' clothing. She fumbled out of the bed, only to end up falling on the floor due to the sheets being tangled in her legs. She stumbled forward in a crawl as she made her way over to his panting form.

  "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" She winced at the third degree burns on his arm and upper thighs. "Ron I'm so sorry."

  "Who?" He bit through clenched teeth.

  Delilah ignored her mistake and told him to stay still as she quickly healed the burns. "I'm really sorry, my mind wasn't in the right state I thought you were someone else."

  "Clearly." He sighed and frowned at the state of the burnt wool of his jumper. "My mum gave me this."

  Delilah smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck. "Did you mean to fetch me for dinner?" She asked timidly. It was a bit strange being so civil after thinking she was about to be murdered. And she did just set a poor boy on fire. Ron's grandfather no less.

  "Well, yes and no. You were screaming your bloody heart out. Thought you were being murdered or something." He chuckled. Delilah felt herself go pale but forced a laugh. "Sorry, I had a nightmare."

"Want to talk about it?" He offered and Delilah gave him a small smile. "Not really, but thank you." She stood up and offered him a hand, the lanky boy was much heavier than he appeared.

  "The meals over break are ten times better than usual, have you seen the decorations in the Great Hall yet?" Septimus steered her away from the wandering eyes of other Ravenclaws once they reached the common room, they were shooting her questioning glances and suspicious glares.

  "Ignore them." He gave her a smile and led the way out of the room, already starting down the spiral staircase of the tower. "Why exactly did you come to Ravenclaw? Slytherin too crowded? They usually don't stay over holidays."

  Her senses were askew and her foot slipped on one of the steps, her heart gave a lurch and her hand gripped the banister. Septimus raised a brow but could clearly see she was in a bit of a state, so he didn't question her further.

  The Great Hall partially resembled something of a winter wonderland, the ceiling had been enchanted to let light snowfall trickle down on the tables below.

  Christmas trees stood tall in each corner, decked with beautiful wreaths and candles, and some ornaments students took the liberty of adding hung from the branches. The fireplaces burned brightly, the cracks of logs barely audible over the light conversation.

  Septimus led her to the Ravenclaw table and Delilah tried to ignore the wariness she felt. They were all staring at her as if she had two heads.

  Septimus fell into a heated argument about Quidditch, leaving Delilah to prod at her food and fall victim to her thoughts. She needed a distraction.

  Looking around, nearly everyone around her was avoiding eye contact. "Um...how was everyone's day?" A brunette girl raised a brow at her and looked at her friends, a dry laugh left her lips. Delilah racked her brain and tried to remember the girls name, she was a sixth year... "Amelia, right?" She asked and the girl nodded after a moment.

  "What do you want?" Her tone held a sense of distrust, which did nothing but annoy Delilah. "What? I don't want anything I was just-"

  "Listen, whatever game you're trying to play, we won't fall for it. No matter what nice facade you put on, not after what your friends did." She spat, a look of pure loathing on her pretty features.

  Delilah furrowed her brows, pointedly resting her hands on the table to show she meant no harm. "What do you mean?" With the looks they were giving her, Delilah felt stupid, like she should know exactly what they meant.

  "Oh please," this time a boy with straight black hair leaned over, his eyes narrowed. "Like your little boyfriend didn't tell you. Or perhaps he wouldn't, seeing as you've been whoring around with Riddle."

  Delilah felt her jaw go slack as she stared at them with a mix of shock and disgust. Her? Whore around with Tom?

  "Excuse me?-" before she said something she'd surely regret, Delilah felt herself being tugged upwards by Septimus. "C'mon, we can get something from the kitchens." He began to drag her away but she yanked her arm from his grasp and turned her heated gaze on the table of Ravenclaws.

  Despite her better judgment, the sight of them shrinking away from her gave her a sense of satisfaction and pride.

  Damn right, she thought. "What the hell are you talking about?" She bit, resisting a smirk as Amelia flinched.

  Delilah mentally cursed at herself, this is exactly what she didn't want to be. This is who people saw Slytherins as. People who enjoy other people's suffering and fear. She should feel disgusted.

  The boy with black hair, his name might've been Oliver, she wasn't sure. He sighed, his jaw set firmly and determination was rooted in his gaze. He turned towards two of his friends in his right. One girl, Katerina. And a boy, Xan. "Can you show her?" Oliver asked, an almost plea in his eyes, like he was trying to make a point.

  In her curiosity, she stepped towards them both and they flinched, this time however Delilah found no enjoyment in the notion. Instead a frown tugged at her lips. Why would they be afraid of her?

  Katerina sighed and spared a long glance with Xan before he nodded. "Come with us." He stood up, grasping Katerina's hand and they made their way out of the Great Hall.

  Delilah shot a look at Septimus and he too nodded, offering to come with her. "What are they talking about? What happened?" She asked him in a whisper. Septimus let out a slow breath and appeared to be making an effort not to look at Delilah. "It's bad."

  Xan and Katerina stopped at an empty classroom and ushered them inside. They locked the door and turned to look at Delilah.

  An involuntary shiver ran itself up her spine, her mind reeling with what could've happened. And Elio apparently had something to do with it? She couldn't fathom him even hurting a fly. Though he'd probably strangle Tom the second an opportunity presented itself.

  Her focus snapped back into place once she noticed Xan started to unbutton his shirt. She shot a look at Septimus and found that he was biting on his knuckles and his foot was tapping, a sign of anxiousness. "What are you-" her breath caught in her throat as soon as Xan turned around.

  There were blisters and other scars littering his back. But right down his spine were deep gashes that made out a foul word. Each letter carved into the center of his back, stacked on top of one another in crude fashion.

M
U
D
B
L
O
O
D

  The letters were jagged, clearly done with some sort of knife, not a wand.

  Delilah felt her balance give way and she slumped against a desk behind her. Her eyes shot towards Katerina, did someone really do that to her as well?

  The girl looked like she was on the verge of tears as her hands shook to remove her own blouse. Xan took her hands in his, pulling her into a hug. "Love, you don't have to." He whispered into her hair, but Katerina shook her head. "No, she needs to see."

  With a deep breath, she unbuttoned her shirt and out of the corner of Delilah's eye, she saw Septimus turn around. This was for Delilah to see, not him.

  Immediately Delilah caught sight of deep purple and yellow bruises marking her ribs and her stomach gave a lurch at the markings of hand prints. Katerina closed her eyes and slowly turned before undoing the clasp of her bra.

  "Oh my god." She stepped forward but didn't risk touching Katerina, not wanting to scare the girl.

  Her throat felt tight as her eyes took in the damage of the girls pale and mared skin, skin that was once smooth and flawless.

Property of the Knights of Walpurgis

  The label was cut in elegant scrawl, a sign a wand was involved due to the neatness. Other bruises and cuts littered her back and Delilah felt her heart stop as Katerina began to lift her skirt.

  "They didn't," she trailed and Katerina shook her head. "No, they didn't get that far. But he made sure that I knew they were capable." Delilah's brows furrowed. 'He' and 'they'? Was someone leading this whole assault?

  Katerina lifted her skirt to show her right hip bone, the skin was irritated and this time the writing was more similar to the jaggedness if Xan's. 'Blood Traitor' was scrawled in a crooked fashion.

  Delilah gulped as she observed Katerina's back again and then everything became blurry. The room seemed to spin and she stumbled backwards, as if in means to get as far away from the words written on her back as possible.

  Not it couldn't- he couldn't have. Surely he wouldn't be that cruel?

  Septimus caught Delilah before she could fall over and sat her down. He was saying something but Delilah couldn't hear him, it sounded as if she was underwater. She couldn't see anything either, she'd gained tunnel vision and the words written on Katerina's back was the only thing in focus.

  She recognized that hand writing. And it could only belong to one person.

  "Who did this to you?" Her voice was a croak that echoed around the room. Xan and Katerina looked at each other for a moment before Xan cleared his throat. "Malfoy did this to me, we think Lestrange marked Kat's hip, and then her back had to be Riddle. We didn't exactly see them, but we could hear their voices clear as day."

  Her mind reeled and she quickly shook her head. "Wait a minute, you think? That's quite a large accusation. Did they or did they not do this to you?" Delilah's breathing has grown rather rapid.

  Maybe, just maybe those she considered her friends didn't do this. They couldn't have done this. They were some of the most kind people she knew. Elio surely took no part, he wasn't blood prejudiced.

  And Pyrrhus, he took her dress shopping for Merlin's sake, how could he carve into a girls skin?

  But Abraxas...he was so kind. And the way he poured his heart out to her, he was a hopeless romantic. Delilah had to remind herself, she felt like an idiot for forgetting. Abraxas was the man to raise Lucius Malfoy after all. She nearly blacked out. How could she have forgotten!

  Abraxas would grow up to be one of the first Death Eaters, followed by his son. She couldn't fathom it and Delilah didn't realize she was hyperventilating.

  Of course Abraxas would be capable of doing something like this. Not just anyone could join Voldemort's ranks, and even worse, be in his inner circle. But maybe, just maybe, he hadn't reached that level of inhumanity yet. She had to hope. Maybe she could stop him-

  No. She promised Dumbledore she wouldn't do anything to change the past. No matter what. Before she could even think further, Delilah fainted.

  "She's going to be alright, sir?" Septimus' voice swam in her foggy brain. Where was she? It felt like she was on a bed.

  Her eyes blinked open and as soon as full consciousness took hold of her, pain shot through her spine, scattering across the rest of her nerves and Delilah winced.

  "Oh look, she's awake."

  Dumbledore.

  "Sir? Where-" She began and something cool was laid across her forehead.

  "You're in the infirmary Miss Pontmercy, had a bit of a fainting spell. Mr Weasley here, brought you up." Delilah could barely manage to turn her head so Septimus leaned over to be in her line of sight.

  "Thank you." Her voice was barely a whisper and her throat burned. He smiled at her, his hair seemed on fire in the candle light. "You look peaky." He mused and Delilah managed a dry laugh. "Shove off."

  "If you could give us a moment, Septimus?" The boy turned red as Dumbledore's twinkling eyes bore into his. It was intimidating when the man's attention was solely on you for the first time.

  As soon as the doors shut, Dumbledore let out an uncharacteristic sigh and sat down next to Delilah's bed.

  "What happened?" It was a rather blunt question and Delilah blinked. She couldn't tell him, she should, but she couldn't.

  Besides, telling Dumbledore would technically be divulging some information about the future. At least that's how Delilah tried to justify it.

  She closed her eyes and let her head sink into the pillow. Maybe, hopefully, Xan was wrong about who did that to them. Delilah mentally begged whatever deity that was out there, potentially fucking up her life, that it wasn't true. It wasn't the friends she held so dear. But there was a small voice in the back of her head telling her she knew better.

  "I can't tell you, sir." Then again, Xan, Katerina, Septimus, and the rest of the Ravenclaws who knew didn't tell anyone. But why? As a form of protection? Fear?

  Dumbledore nodded and sat back in the old wooden chair, the legs creaking loudly in the silent room. "I've stumbled upon a possible answer, though I don't have enough evidence to back such a claim."

  Delilah bolted up right before he even finished the sentence. "Yes? What is it?" The eagerness was not only evident in her voice, but in her features. The dizziness that threatened to cloak her mind was pushed away, she needed to hear this.

  "It has come to my attention that you were most likely not sent here on accident." He said slowly, watching her face closely.

  Delilah gulped and took a deep breath, only to result in her coughing. She tried to stop, but her chest kept convulsing.

  "Miss Meddows?"

  "I'm fine." She pulled her sleeve away and saw specks of blood. She didn't allow herself to react. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs in order to conceal the crimson flecks.

  "What do you mean not on accident? This was on purpose? Someone sent me here?" Her mind was moving a mile a minute yet it also felt like it was frozen. How could it have not been an accident?

  "I believe so, yes."

  "But why?"

  Dumbledore pressed his lips together and his eyes appeared far older than the rest of him. "That, I'm afraid I do not know. Nor am I sure who sent you here, I'm still reviewing the night you snuck into the Ministry. The Atrium was rather dimly lit. Do you remember anyone else who would have possibly been there? Besides you and the man."

  Delilah's brows furrowed before she realized Dumbledore still didn't know who Voldemort was. And he couldn't know. So what did he see when he looked at that memory? An insane man? A monster? How did he interpret her torturer?

  "Ah, you're probably wondering what I think about it so far." He chimed with that knowing smile of his. Delilah felt her lips twitch upward at the sides and nodded.

  Dumbledore's eyes still twinkled, but they looked sad. "It's strange, that man. Or what I'm assuming is left of a man. He's the most broken thing I've ever seen, and his eyes, they're almost familiar..." his eyes zoned out as he looked at a random spot on the wall.

  After a beat of silence, Delilah cleared her throat. "Sir?" Dumbledore flinched and she frowned. That was highly unlike him.

  "It's hard to recall exactly, a lot of people were chasing me. But in the Atrium I think it was one woman, Bellatrix." Saying her name aloud required much more effort than she expected. "Two other men, though I'm not sure who they were, and the man, the pale man."

  "And who is this pale man?" He peered at her over his spectacles and her heart ached, flashes of Dumbledores limp body laying lifeless on the ground flashed in her mind. "I can't tell you that, sir."

  "Right well," he stood up and patted her knee. "I'll send you an owl once I piece together another part of the puzzle." With that he left out the door leaving a very confused seventeen year old girl.

  Before she could stop herself, her body racked with coughs again. An almost animalistic hacking noise was coming from her throat and she clawed at her neck. She couldn't breathe.

  Leaning over the side of her bed, she conjured a bucket and spit out the warm liquid pooling in her mouth.

  It was more blood.

  Later that night, well around two in the morning, Delilah quietly made her way to Dumbledore's office to use the fireplace to floo back to Avery Manor.

  Dumbledore said he'd give her a few days to get her shit together. Well, not those words exactly, but Delilah got the point.

  She stumbled out of a fireplace that unfortunately wasn't the one in her room. Thankfully however, she knew where she was. It was a sitting room that was two floors below the one where her bedroom was.

  Despite the fact there technically wasn't a rule about her being out this late, she still felt uneasy roaming about the manor at this hour. After casting a disillusionment charm on herself, she quietly crept out of the room.

  The place seemed more haunting at night. Although it was typical for paintings to move in the wizarding world, it still gave Delilah a chill each time one stirred.

  Her footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet, but nonetheless the sound felt too loud. Her eyes were trained directly in front of her, so she failed to notice a figure emerge from a connecting hallway.

  She nearly screamed as someone bumped into her, a small yelp coming from the opposing person.

  "Ow." Said a small voice.

  Delilah flicked her wand, fearing the worst, but sighed as she looked down at a child and lifted the charm off herself. "I'm sorry." She whispered, not being able to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

  "Who are you?" The little girl asked, still rubbing at her forehead.

"I feel like I should be asking you that. I didn't see you at dinner the other night." Delilah thought she looked familiar. Her skin was tanned and her eyes were slightly feline, but more soft.

  "Are you seriously arguing with an eight year old?" The girl inquired with her arms crossed.

  Delilah raised a brow at the girls tone. "It's a fair question."

  The girl rolled her eyes and sighed rather dramatically. "I'm Rosie, Cain's sister. I'm his favorite person in the world." She smiled brightly to reveal adorably crooked teeth, one bottom tooth was currently in the works of growing in.

  Delilah felt a grin tugging at her lips. She wasn't too fond of children but Rosie seemed insufferable enough. "Well, Rosie. I'm Delilah. It's lovely to meet you, but don't you think you should be in bed?" She leaned down to be at the girls height, giving her shoulder a playful nudge.

  "Shouldn't you be in bed as well? Why are you wandering around my house at two in the morning? And why were you under a disillusionment charm?" She asked, the questions rolling off her tongue.

  Delilah huffed and stood up straight. Rosie didn't let anything slide apparently. "I had to use the bathroom."

  "You weren't at dinner tonight, oh! You're Elio's girlfriend aren't you?" A cheeky smile made its way onto her lips and she even giggled. Delilah wanted to tell her to stop, but telling an eight year old to quit giggling seemed pointless.

  "Yes, I am...that. Now, off you pop. Back to bed." She waved her hand back in the direction Rosie came from but the girl shook her head. "I'm not tired."

  "Well that's not really my problem, is it?" Delilah inwardly cringed. She was awful with kids. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she looked at Rosie who instead of seeming offended, just looked bored.

  "How about I read to you, hm?" Rosie seemed to mull it over before nodding. She smiled widely as she took Delilah's hand and led her down an assortment of hallways. Thankfully Rosie's room appeared only to be a few halls down from her own.

  She opened a white door and her room was huge, much bigger than Delilah's. Everything was a shade of lavender and it gave an airy feeling to the room. To her surprise, and delight, Rosie had a large floor to ceiling bookcase.

  The girl threw herself onto her bed and looked at Delilah expectantly. "Oh shall I pick then?" She said sarcastically and made her way over to the novels. Skimming a few titles, she decided to go for a classic and pulled the book from the shelf.

  "Here we are, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. This okay?" Rosie nodded and propped herself up against the headboard. Delilah looked around the room and was about to sit at a desk chair, but Rosie insisted she sit on the bed. "It's more comfortable."

  Delilah only resisted at first in fear she'd fall asleep as soon as she landed on the silken sheets. But Rosie persisted and after a minute, Delilah found herself huddled in a heap of pillows with the book propped open.

  "Any story in particular?" She asked and Rosie pointed at the tale of the Three Brothers. "I've never been able to understand that one."

  Delilah hummed as she flicked to the right page, she didn't know much about it either.

  Hermione has ranted about it a few times, all in hushed whispers with Harry and Ron. She mostly only knew of it to the extent of a fairytale. It was a bit dark to be considered a children's story, but she supposed it had a good lesson to ponder over.

  "Three brothers, travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight reached a deep treacherous river where anyone who attempted to swim or wade would drown. Learned in the magical arts, the brothers conjured a bridge with their wands and proceed to cross." Delilah yawned as she read, ignoring the laughing from Rosie.

  "Halfway across the bridge, a hooded figure stood before them. The figure was the enraged spirit of Death, cheated of his due. Death cunningly pretended to congratulate them and proceeded to award them with gifts of their own choosing." Both girls were too focused on the story, they failed to take note of a third presence lingering in the doorway.

  "The eldest brother, a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence. Death granted his wish by fashioning the Elder Wand from a branch of a nearby elder tree standing on the banks of the river. The second brother, an arrogant man, chose to further humiliate death, and asked for the power to recall the deceased from the grave. Death granted his wish by crafting the Resurrection Stone from a stone picked from the riverbank. The third and youngest brother, who was the most humble and wise, did not trust Death and asked for something to enable him to go forth without Death being able to follow. A reluctant Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Invisibility cloak."

  Her mind jumped to Harry's invisibility cloak, and how unique it was. But shook her head. This was a fairytale. The stuff of legend.

  "The three brothers took their prizes and soon went on their separate ways.The eldest brother travelled to a village where a wizard whom he had quarrelled lived. He sought out a duel and fought the wizard using the wand, instantly killing the latter. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the eldest brother walked to an inn not far from the duelling site and spent the night there. Taken by his conscience and lust of the Elder Wand's power, the eldest brother boasted of this wand gifted by Death and his own invincibility."

  Delilah couldn't help but give a dry laugh at that. Arrogant people never learn.

  "That very night, Death transfigured to a murderous wizard. The unknown murderous wizard crept to the inn as the eldest brother slept, drunk from wine. The wizard slit the oldest brother's throat for good measure and stole the wand. That was when Death took the first brother." She eyed Rosie, and to her surprise, the girls eyes were falling heavy. Who knew a murderous tale could be a way to send a child to sleep?

  "The second brother returned to his home where he lived alone. Turning the stone thrice in his hand the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him, much to his delight. Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, committed suicide by hanging from his house' balcony so as truly to join her. That was when Death took the second brother for his own."

  She wondered what she would do if she had the opportunity to bring someone back from the dead. It was awfully tempting. But meddling with the laws of nature were dangerous and always came with consequences.

  The dead shall remain dead, no matter the amount of pain suffered by the mourners.

  "Death searched for the youngest brother as years passed but never succeeded. It was only when the third brother reached a great age, he took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. Greeting Death as an old friend, they departed this life as equals." She closed the book and Rosie's tired eyes narrowed.

  "Over already? What was the point of that? They all died." Delilah rolled her own eyes, another yawn slipping past her lips.

  "That's the point." She ruffled the girls hair and Rosie pushed her hand away. "What do you mean?"

  Delilah sighed and placed the book on the nightstand before turning to look back at Rosie. She was on the verge of passing out.

  "Are you familiar with the works of G.K. Chesterton?" It was a ridiculous question. Of course she wouldn't be. One, she was an eight year old. Two, she's an eight year old in a pure blood family who shuns anything remotely muggle related. And not to her surprise, Rosie shook her head.

  "Well, he once wrote, 'fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy Tales tell children that dragons can be killed.' Meaning, no matter what life gives you, however unbelievable, no matter what save faces are presented, there is only one guarantee in life."

  "And what's that?" The candle light shone in Rosie's eyes, a look of pure innocence on her face as she yawned and buried herself deeper in her sheets.

  The answer, of course, was death.

  But that was a topic a bit too dark for the time being. "Go to bed, little one. We can talk about it more tomorrow if you like?" Rosie nodded and smiled at Delilah.

  "Thank you."

  "For what?" Delilah got off the bed and properly tucked her in. "For being nice, my mum hasn't read to me in ages. Daddy's never home, and Cain is off at school." Rosie fell asleep before she could see the frown pulling on Delilah's lips.

  "Night, love." She pressed a light kiss to Rosie's forehead and waved her hand, blowing out the candles.

  She sighed before turning on her heel.

  As her door was in her sights, just before she could reach out for the door knob, a hand covered her mouth and yanked her back. Her scream was muffled as the door quickly shut and her kidnapper let go of her.

  Before she could scream again, the room became alight with candles and she was met with Tom grimacing as he wiped his hand off on a handkerchief.

  "You licked my hand." His lip was pulled back in disgust, completely ignorant to Delilah's glare. "You pulled me into a room against my will! I thought someone was about to kill me!"

  He blinked at her and then looked at his hand again, not bothering to hide is detestment. "You licked my hand."

  Delilah threw her head back and let out an exasperated groan. "You're unbelievable." She turned to walk out the door, but as she pulled on the handle, it wouldn't open. "Alohomora." She muttered, but again, it didn't budge.

  "I wouldn't bother." The muse of his voice made her skin crawl. Flashes of Katerina's back assaulted her mind and before she could do anything to stop herself, Delilah threw a hex at him that would essentially pluck out his eyes.

  Much to her annoyance, he easily deflected the spell. His wand wasn't even drawn.

  "Someone's in a temperament." He tsk-d, leaning against his desk casually, allowing her to see he didn't take her as a threat. Even though she's proved she could kill him.

  Not anymore however, he'd taken the liberty of learning a defense spell against that dark curse she used in Defense Against the Dark Arts all those months ago.

  "You are one of the most vile people I've ever laid eyes on." She spat and wanted to actually disintegrate him as he tilted his head to the side, not at all affected by her words. "You disgust me."

  "And this is new information to me, how? Do enlighten me, what encouraged this sudden bout of resentment?" She watched as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, giving only a peak of his clavicles, prominent against pale skin.

  He was giving the impression he had his guard down, to test her if she'd try anything. But Delilah knew better.

  "How could you do that to Katerina?" Her voice was quiet, and as Tom looked at her, he couldn't help but bite the inside of his cheek at his sudden revelation.

  Delilah Pontmercy was afraid.

  "Whatever do you mean?" The look of feigned ignorance on his face was almost too much for her, it was so convincing, but she knew it wasn't real. Nothing he did was real. "At dinner the other night, when you said all those awful things. How do you justify such a belief?"

  Tom looked at her for a long moment. His wand was in his pocket, he could pull it out and obliviate her. Hurt her, even. If he wanted to. Instead he just analyzed her, watched every twitch in her body as she felt his heavy gaze.

  He wanted to touch her again.

  When he'd pulled her into his room, her skin was ice cold. The memory of her falling limp in that hallway rang fresh in his mind. Was she growing ill again?

  "What was that story you were telling Rosie?"

  Was he joking? She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what game he was possibly playing at. "Why?" He shrugged, it was uncharacteristic of him. It was too casual. "Certain aspects of it intrigued me."

  "It's a popular tale parents usually read to their children, though it's a bit on the dark side. Whoever came up with it must've had a different means of sending their kids off to bed."

  "Came up with? So you believe it to be made up?"

  Delilah took notice of how his hair was a tad messier than usual, indicating he must've been running his fingers through it. The image was alluring but she shoved it away. His pale skin was also soaking in the candle light, making him almost glow. And his cheeks were tinged, a sight too wholesome for a man like him.

  "Of course it is, it's a fairytale." She said. He shrugged again and Delilah felt the childish need to tell him to stop.

  "All folklore has a basis of truth." He then undid his cufflinks and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Her eyes lingered a bit too long on his forearms. A notion he didn't fail to miss, but he didn't comment on it either.

  "Tell me about it."

  "Why?"

  "I told you, I'm intrigued." Of course he wouldn't tell her the whole truth.

  He was making his way back down from the top floor, passing by Rosie's room when he heard Delilah's voice. He stepped forward to inquire what she was doing, but then he heard her say two words. Just two.

  Elder Wand.

  Now why would a children's story mention such a weapon? Least of all, share it's origin? He's tried to do extensive research on the wand, but all of it came up fruitless. The tale of the Three Brothers popped up multiple times, but he dismissed it purely on the basis that it was defined as a children's story.

  And how idiotic he was.

  Delilah retold him the story and watched as he bit the inside of his cheek again. Had he always done that? It seemed to be a tick of his, a sign showing he was thinking.

  After a long moment, his eyes shot up to hers again and she flinched. "What did you say they were referred as?" She swallowed, not entirely liking the look in his eye. There was a look of want. It was burning and she didn't know if it could be put out.

  "The Deathly Hallows."

  Tom filed the word away for later, he'd have much research to do. He felt a smile pull at his lips. Delilah was so useful when she allowed herself to be.

  "Are you a half-blood, Miss Pontmercy?" His tone was casual, as if he was talking about how it might rain tomorrow.

  "Excuse me?" The question was sudden. Taking her off guard. She needed to sit down, but the only available places were the bed and the chair at the desk he was currently leaning against. She'd rather take her chances standing until she fainted again.

  "Oh I'm sorry, are you scandalized? It's a simple question, are you a half-blood?" He crossed his arms, he was leaned back with one foot crossed over the other. He looked like a businessman and it didn't help set her nerves at ease.

  "I don't see why that matters."

  He sighed softly through his nose, his dark eyes boring into hers. Delilah felt a chill as his magic pressed down on her from all sides. She felt like he could see right through her.

  "You're not a muggle born, or else the other night you would've been by far less composed. And being in Slytherin would've been much more of a hell." He tilted his head to the side and stood up, he didn't even smile as he watched Delilah shrink back.

  "No, you're a half-blood. Well versed in the world of magic, though how I know you share muggle blood is because of your characteristics. You use certain terms only muggles use, such as 'oh my god', and others of the like. You hold yourself different than any other witch I've seen. You hold a pride. Yet it's different from that of an aristocrat." As he spoke, he walked forward slowly.

  The sight of his tall form approaching made Delilah feel like she was the prey about to get lunged on.

  "Despite your performance the other night, you lack the etiquette of a pureblood. Though I do congratulate you on how convincing it was."

  Delilah gasped as her back hit the wall. Yet again, she was trapped between Tom and some other surface. His hands pressed against the fine wallpaper on each side of her head, providing no escape. He dipped his head down to meet hers, their breaths swirling with each other, invisible.

  Burnt wood, parchment, cigarettes. It made her feel intoxicated.

  For him, he was feeling a pang of dizziness from the peppermint.

  "Don't you think it's a bit unfair you know so much about me, yet I so little about you?" She pulled as much strength as possible into her voice, trying to hide the quiver. But this was Tom Riddle. He'd notice. "It's quite an unfair bargain."

  He raised a brow at her, his eyes skimming over her face. She looked exhausted and a tad pale, though it was hard to tell due to the orange glow of the room. "Bargain?" He asked, and her only answer was a firm nod.

  "I'm a half-blood, does that satisfy you?" He said, his eyes were trained on her features, trying to detect any sense of judgment. Judgement for his blood, judgement he was always expecting. But he was met with slight surprise, and relief?

  She furrowed her brows, recalling all the cruel names he's called people based off their own blood. Even calling half-bloods derogatory names. "Then why would you-"

  "For appearances, of course. Do you really think I'd be where I am today if I divulge my heritage? Do you know how many opportunities would be taken away? The Avery's wouldn't have even let me through their front door despite how much they claim to love me. I wouldn't even be able to walk the halls of Hogwarts without being spat on. Or sleep comfortably in the Slytherin dormitory. I wouldn't have been prefect, nor Head Boy. I have to present myself to a certain prestige, act as they do, make them believe I'm like them. Or else they'd only stare down their noses in disgust and act as if they're better. I wouldn't be taken seriously, my intellect would be questioned, I'd be robbed of a successful life."

  Delilah's royal blue eyes didn't waver from his.

  People were rarely able to hold eye contact with him and he found it fascinating to actually get a close up of her eyes. The detail in them was something akin to art, if he were to be so gracious.

  Up close, he came to realize her eyes were lighter than he realized, and only the rim of her iris was that deep royal blue.

  Perhaps he always thought they were such a color because her pupils usually tended to be dilated.

  A sudden resilience took over her features, he watched as her jaw set, her chin lifted.

  Neither of them were aware the action caused the distance between them to grow smaller. Their noses were just about to touch.

  "I don't give a damn if it means you can't get the job you want. Or the life you want. You don't do that to a person. A person! Marking them like property, how do you- I don't understand. And I don't want to." She shook her head and her curls brushed against his hands, it tingled, but he ignored it.

  "Are you sure?" His deep baritone seemed to vibrate her body due to their proximity.

  "What do you mean, 'am I sure'? Of course I'm sure" Delilah tried to straighten her back, to try to distance herself, but he only seemed to grow nearer. Or was that just her overactive imagination messing with her?

  She froze as he leaned in.

  What the fuck was he doing?

  Milliseconds before what she was expecting to happen occurred, he turned his face and his cheek brushed against hers. His breath tickled her ear and she felt her legs go weak. Suddenly thankful she was pressed against a wall, because if not she would've crumbled to the floor.

  "Then why are you still here?"

  Her eyes closed tightly as he pulled his face back. Tom watched her lashes and how they were a resting fan over her freckled cheeks. He was right, her skin was cold as ice.

  "I really do hate you." she muttered, her breath smelt like lemon and something more coppery. But before he could place it, he forced himself to back away.

  "I know." He then walked over to the door and opened it, gesturing for her to leave.

  "Goodnight." He watched as she slowly started to walk, her legs shaking with each step. He could easily see her chest rise and fall as she tried to slow her breathing.

  It was such fun to turn her into a puddle of nerves. Delilah was always so put together, it was a sight to see her unravel.

  Especially if he was the one to undo her.

  Tom observed her as she slowly opened her door, she turned to look at him for a moment longer. Her lips parted to say something, but she started to cough and quickly shut the door.

  He raised a brow but shut his own door. He could look into her health later, he had new, more pressing matters. He had research to attend to, Delilah had provided a break in what seemed to be an unsolvable case.

  That break of course, was the Deathly Hallows.