"Will you come to visit?" Rosie asked, hugging Delilah tightly around the waist. She smiled lightly and brushed away the girls hair, it hurt to lie to her. "Of course, little one."

"And read me more stories?" Her wide eyes stared up at Delilah and she felt an uncomfortable tug in her stomach. "Yes, lots and lots of stories." Rosie gave her another tight squeeze before letting her go.

Delilah stepped into the large fireplace next to Tom, who looked rather impatient. She grabbed a handful of floo powder and turned to face forward.

"Promise me?" Rosie spoke with a stern look in her eye. The hope of a child is a powerful thing one shouldn't meddle with. Delilah felt a tight smile pull at her lips. "I promise."

Tom rolled his eyes and grabbed Delilah's hand, throwing the floo powder down with the motion.

"The Leaky Caldron." He said clearly, ignoring the glare she was shooting at him.

__________________________________

As Delilah opened the door to her room at the Leaky Cauldron, she dusted off the soot from the fireplace. The room was small and held a decent sized bed, the old wooden floors covered in a thin layer of dust. She wrinkled her nose and made a mental note to clean it later.

The group would be staying at the inn the last few days of the holiday, each person staying in their cramped rooms next to each other. Delilah snickered a bit at the thought. After staying at a manor for the past week, she was sure the rest of them were used to higher standards of living. Hell, even the dorms at Hogwarts were nicer.

But as she sat on the rickety bed, dust coming up in clouds, a sense of fondness washed over her. Delilah observed her room.

Wallpaper was peeling, revealing the cracked surface underneath. The ceiling hung low and was slightly caved. There was a single window looking out over the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, people bustling to do after Christmas shopping.

Everything was the same.

Delilah could almost pretend she was back in her own time, enjoying a holiday with friends. But as her eyes peered closer out the window, she didn't recognize the environment. Not really.

Absentmindedly messing with the necklace around her neck, Delilah got up and paced the room. Watching with a strange fascination the way her shoes made a track on the dusty floorboards. She felt odd, empty perhaps, or just blank.

She didn't feel like her. Like a person. She simply felt like a body with no immediate purpose.

There was a rap on her door and it took nearly ten seconds to process the sound. Shaking her head, Delilah plastered on a smile and opened the uneven door; one side was longer than the other.

Lolita stood in the hall with two cups of tea, the steam billowing out of the rim. She raised an eyebrow, asking silently if she could come in.

Delilah moved to the side. She didn't know why her brain was moving so slowly. Maybe she was just tired.

Lolita's pretty features scrunched as she observed the room. "Dear, why haven't you cleaned yet?" Her dark eyes found the memory of floor tracks, she raised an eyebrow but didn't question it. Waving her wand, the floor was suddenly spotless, a floral scent also now lingered in the air.

Delilah sat on the bed while Lolita grabbed the desk chair, then offered her the cup. "Drink, you look awful."

She chuckled at her friends blunt statement, Lolita always said what she was thinking. She didn't have a filter, but she was never rude. Delilah liked that about her.

However, with the way Lolita was looking at her over the rim of her cup, slowly drinking her tea, Delilah shifted uncomfortably. A few seconds of silence passed before a huff passed her lips, "you clearly want to say something."

"How are you?"

That made her furrow her eyebrows. "Fine, why?" Lolita blew air out her pursed lips and set the cup down, she leaned forward and grabbed Delilah's hands. Her own her soft and delicate, and always painted a shade of deep red.

"You're not as good at hiding it, you know. You're very good at it, I'll give you that. But your facade falls a bit when you think no one can see you." Her voice was crisp and carried across the air easily, twisting itself in its elegant tone. Delilah was hyper aware of the feeling of Lolita's thumbs trailing over her knuckles. "Hide what?"

Her friend rolled her eyes and pulled back, picking up her cup of tea up and inhaling deeply. It seemed to calm her. "You're a sad girl." She said, and quickly shook her head at the glare Delilah was giving her. "That wasn't a notion of pity. I meant it quite literally, you always look depressed. I can see it in your eyes, your posture, the way seem to deflate when no one is looking at you."

Delilah didn't know how to respond. How does one even respond to that? She felt quite stupid really, for not doing a better job at 'hiding' her sadness. She didn't think she fell into it on purpose, usually it's a memory that triggered her sudden downfall in mood.

"Do you want to tell me why?" Lolita asked, eyeing the girl in front of her carefully. Delilah confused her, not many did that to Lolita. She felt like she had everyone figured out to a certain degree, with Tom as an exception of course. Lolita didn't even have the energy to try to break apart that boy.

Delilah confused her because she seemed like an open book at first glance, but the closer you got the quicker the book starts to close. And just when it's in your reach, the book is suddenly bound shut. Yet there was still a vulnerability to it. Delilah's book was like a worn leather journal, slightly roughed up on the edges and just waiting to burst open.

But Lolita supposed it was better that way. A girl would get nothing from the world but pain if she ran around with her heart on her sleeve.

Delilah stared long and hard at the bed sheets beneath her, her eyes trailing along the lines of strain in the fabric. "Not really, if that's okay."

A small smile pulled at Lolita's lips. "Of course it's okay." She took a sip of her tea and relaxed into the chair, messing with her new engagement ring. The air instantly became less tense and Delilah felt herself relaxing. "Any New Years plans for tonight?" She asked, she needed to keep herself busy.

Laughing lightly, Lolita shook her head. "Merlin no, not me at least. I'm planning to have a self pampering night while the boys are out."

Delilah raised a brow in interest, "what're they going to do?" Lolita raised one shoulder in a partial shrug, setting down her now empty cup of tea. "Out for drinks no doubt, Riddle is staying in however. No surprise there. That boy is a hermit if I've ever seen one, even on his birthday."

It took Delilah a few seconds to realize what she said. "On his what?" Such a simple, normal thing didn't seem to apply to a person like Tom. Of course he had a birthday, Delilah just never thought it actually existed.

Lolita smiled slightly at the girls shock. "Half the school doesn't even know, and he made sure of that. You'd think for an ego like his, he'd be shouting it in the streets." Delilah shrugged at the thought. Tom did like the attention, but he usually only liked it if it was permitted. She didn't like celebrating her birthday either, but she was sure it was for entirely different reasons.

"When's your birthday?" Lolita asked, a curious glint in her eye. Delilah bit her lip and looked out the dingy window, "November seventh." There was a slight slap on her knee and she laughed at the annoyed look on Lolita's face. "It was last month? And you didn't tell me?" Delilah shrugged sheepishly.

________________________________________

Tom felt his ears prick up at the sound of a knock on his door. He glared at the unevenly cut wood before looking down at his opened diary, notes about the Deathly Hallows littering the pages.

Pushing away from the desk, the chair scratched against the wooden floors and he walked to the door. After opening it, he had the strong urge to slam it shut. There was nothing good about the way Delilah was smiling up at him. She looked like she knew something she shouldn't, and it annoyed him.

"May I help you?" There was a draft coming in from an opened window in the hall, making peppermint waft towards him in an incessant wave.

He waved his hand in slight aggravation, causing the window to fall shut. Who kept a window open in the middle of winter, anyway?

Peppermint still lingered, but not as strongly as before.

"How come you didn't tell me it's your birthday?"

That urge to slam the door rose again, and this time he didn't hold back. He went to shut the door, but Delilah pushed it open before it could fully close, wedging her body in the doorway. "Oh come on, how old are you now, seventeen? Eighteen? Bet I'm older than you."

Delilah was eighteen, but technically Tom was about sixty years older than her. She didn't like that thought, so she shoved it away as harshly as possible. No, she assured herself as she looked at the boy in front of her with curly dark hair. He was young, he was her age.

But she couldn't help but wonder what Tom Riddle was doing back in her time as an old man. For some reason a museum curator popped into her mind but she shook her head. Delilah may hate him, but she wouldn't let her thoughts rob him of his youth.

"Eighteen," he ground out after trying to shove her out the door. He gave up when he realized she'd probably just stand outside his door like a kicked puppy until he let her in. Tom opened the door but didn't let her enter any further into the room.

Delilah crossed her arms at this but decided not to push the matter. "Let's go do something." Tom raised an eyebrow at her. Delilah wanted to willingly spend time with him for his birthday? Didn't she have New Years plans to get drunk beyond wits with her little friends? That's what the boys were doing.

"No thank you, I'm busy." He gestured to the desk and she peered over his shoulder on raised toes. Delilah scoffed, "What? Writing in your diary?" He nodded and watched in amusement as she let out a huff. "That can wait, the diary isn't going anywhere." She stepped back and gestured for him to follow.

But when he didn't move an inch, she ground her teeth and glared up at him. "Don't you dare make me say it." He blinked at her, a fake curtain of innocence hanging over his dark eyes. "Say what?"

"You know damn well what."

He tilted his head, appearing genuinely confused and her own eyes burned holes through his chest.

"Will you come with me...please," she looked miserable. That tick he felt in his cheek came back, his muscles urging him to smile. But he shoved it away. "Fine, since you asked so nicely and you're clearly desperate." He grabbed his coat off the hook and shut the door behind him. Delilah opened her mouth to yell at him, to defend she was definitely not desperate, but shut it since there was no use.

Tom felt his lips twitch again.

________________________________________

Delilah led them to a small cafe on the muggle side of London. She didn't have much money, so she only bought him a cup of coffee. Delilah supposed her Christmas gift made up for it, though. Besides, if he hated his birthday so much, he wouldn't care.

Tom stood against the wall, waiting for her to return with drinks. He made her order, seeing as she's paying. And he didn't want to interact with anyone, especially muggles. He watched her approach, weaving between people with a white cup that had steam pouring from the top.

As she grew nearer, he realized she was singing happy birthday. It sounded awful, but thankfully the chatter of the cafe drowned out most of her vocals.

"Happy Birthday dear, jackass. Happy birthday to you." She had a ridiculous smile on her face as she offered him a cup of coffee. Delilah noticed the dark liquid was the same shade as his eyes.

Tom looked at the cup for a moment. He'd had coffee only once before. It was at the orphanage when he was eight. He saw the grownups drinking it, so he wanted to drink it too. It was some weak attempt to show the other kids he was by far more mature. And he remembered hating it. Still, he took the cup from her and sniffed it. Delilah hid a laugh behind a hand and he glared at her.

He took a drink and this time Delilah couldn't help but laugh at the flicker of disgust on his face. "That's foul." He muttered, shoving the cup back into her hands. Delilah shrugged and took a drink of it easily, it was bitter, but familiar. She welcomed the burn.

They walk out the door and continue down the street, not a particular direction in mind. London looked so strange, it felt like she was looking at it through a time period movie.

She spotted a man sitting on a ragged, dirty blanket on the street. Wrapped up in a tattered coat and shivering. He wasn't the only one. Many people's homes got destroyed due to the bombings. As they passed by the man, Delilah stopped and knelt down.

Tom kept walking but turned once he realized Delilah wasn't next to him. He raised an eyebrow at the man she was talking to. He was probably in his mid sixties and had a scraggly gray beard and red rimmed eyes.

"Here you go," Delilah gave him her cup of coffee and he stared at her wide eyed, hands shaking either with age or the cold as he grabbed it. Maybe both. "Thank you, love." His voice was gruff, but still smooth. Almost like an over-rosined bow. "Do you know of any place you can stay tonight?" Delilah pulled out what money she had left and offered it to the man. He shook his head to refuse but Delilah softly grabbed his hand and put it in his palm. "Find someplace safe, okay?" She have the man's hand a squeeze before standing up.

"Bless you, sweet child." He looked as if he was about to cry and she gave him a small smile.

Tom stood about five feet away, hands in his pockets and his eyes observant. They were fully trained on Delilah, however. He watched as everyone else on the street passed by them blindly, almost as if Delilah became invisible the moment she began to talk to the homeless man.

After that, they aimlessly walked around the city. The streets were busy, due to it being New Years Eve. Quite a few people were already stumbling drunk in the streets, pouring out the doors of crowded pubs. Delilah laughed as one man started to chase after a cat, thinking it was his shoe running away from him.

Her laugh died on her lips however when she and Tom came across a memorial for all those either missing or who've died in the war. Her eyes trailed along the faces of the hundreds of men, all smiling in the pictures their loved ones have posted to the wall. Her heart broke a little as she realized most of them were no older than she was.

Tom also looked at them all, his neck craned up slightly to fully take it in. He hasn't kept up to date on the muggle war going on, but he wasn't ignorant like most of the wizarding war. He knew how deadly it was, just from the bombings alone. Not to mention the ever rising death toll. Still, he felt an emptiness. Like he should be feeling something, but he just couldn't.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Delilah muttered, more to herself. She wasn't expecting a reply.

"People die everyday for a faith rooted in a lost cause. They go in as pigs for slaughter. And the young see it as honorable." Tom said this as he caught sight of a group of young kids playing in the street, all pretending to shoot at one another with hand guns. "Men get torn to shreds, wives weep, kids live on with bitter hearts." His voice was soft, his eyes trained on a picture of a twenty two year old man who was enlisted in the Royal Air Force. He died two weeks ago.

"Muggles are fighting a war full to the brim with blood, I expect the cup to overflow soon"

Delilah felt her throat tighten as she turned to look at him. His expression was the most curious thing. It wasn't blank per say, she didn't know how to explain it. He looked curious. "And you're okay with that?" She said quietly. She knew he wasn't the best person, but more terrible characteristics keep piling up against him.

Her eyes turned back to the faces of young men. Any one of them could've been Tom. If he were a muggle, he would've been enlisted and shipped off to some version of hell this war had created. And whether or not he lived, a part of himself would die on whatever battlefield he fought on. War does that to people. War could do that to Tom.

She felt sick.

Delilah tugged on his sleeve and turned away. Tom eyed the picture of the pilot a moment longer. He looked at the name, some part of his brain told him not to forget it.

Aaron Cloverfield.

They head back to Diagon Alley and stop in an ancient looking bookshop, the shelves much higher than the ceiling should've allowed. An expansion charm no doubt.

Tom was off browsing in another isle, probably to find some information that could help his new study. Delilah realized he hadn't been sleeping much lately, it wasn't necessarily noticeable. Tom looked put together as usual, but there was a heaviness to his eyes. He was spending every hour he could doing research.

She wondered when she should tell him about the symbol.

Delilah let her fingers trail over the worn spines of books, each looking much older than she was. She ended up in the back corner, seeing as the books got more interesting the further she went. A book on the lowest shelf caught her eye, gold lettering glinting against green.

Bending down, she read the title and grabbed it with nimble fingers. It wasn't that old, but the pages were ruffled with use. The book was filled with famous old Ministry reports.

She sat down on the floor, something that was most likely frowned upon, but she didn't care. Flipping open the book, she gazed across the report files with mild interest.

One name stood out though, and she felt her body leaning towards the book in intrigue. It was a report on Grindelwald from 1926, in New York City. The file was transferred from the MACUSA.

Her eyes read over the lines quickly, taking in the events of what happened. Her lips tilted up a bit at the mention of Newt Scamander's name. She always admired that strange man. Towards the bottom of the page there was a quote cited from Grindelwald himself concerning the Statue of Secrecy.

"A law that has us scuttling like rats in the gutter. A law that demands that we conceal our true nature. A law that directs those under its dominion to cower in fear, lest we risk discovery. I ask you, Madam President, I ask all of you — who does this law protect? Us, or them? I refuse to bow down any longer."

Delilah bit her lip and read it over three more times. She hated it when the bad guy had a point. Though Grindelwald's way of trying to progress the wizarding world was questionable.

Someone kicked her leg and she looked up, Tom was standing above her looking even more tall due to her sitting. "The shop owner finds you sitting on the floor a tad disrespectful and has kindly asked you to either leave or buy something." His voice was flat as he offered her a hand, tugging her up with more force than necessary.

He always did that, simply to watch her fumble for her balance. It was amusing so he didn't see a point to stop.

Delilah huffed and put the book back, smiling as sweetly as she could at the grumbling shop owner as they left. They walked down the crowded cobbled streets back towards the inn, the late evening chill seeping through Delilah's coat. She kicked at a pebble and found his silence a bit deafening.

"What's your opinion on the statue of secrecy?" She blurted, regretting it almost instantly. This would undoubtedly lead to an argument. Tom spared her a glance before looking forward again, ignoring everyone around them as he continued to stride forward. People moved easily out of his way, and by default, they moved out of Delilah's way as well. She supposed there were some perks of being with him.

"Some aspects are questionable on severity, but overall it's needed." He finally said. Delilah blinked at him in surprise, did they actually agree on something? She was about to reply, but he kept talking.

"Muggles wouldn't be able to properly handle the concept of magic, they can barely deal with something such as science. And jealousy is never a safe fuel, they'd be envious to a violent degree probably." He mused and just then a light snow started to fall, the snowflakes catching on his dark hair. "Trying to get muggles to understand magic would be like putting a man on the moon; impossible."

Delilah felt her eyes spark up and a devilish smile reached her lips. Tom faltered slightly as he took in her expression. No, he didn't like that at all. "What are you smiling for?" She began to laugh, oh how badly she wanted to tell him man would actually go to the moon. It burned her chest with desire. Just to prove him wrong.

"I think it's possible, man going to the moon I mean." That was as much she could settle for. There was such certainty in her voice Tom nearly believed it himself, but he shook his head. "Well of course you would, you're a half-blood." The insult didn't affect her in the slightest. "Yeah well, so are you." That earned her an incredibly sharp glare.

They started up the crooked stairs of the inn, bickering back and forth as they went. "It's not physically possible, the moon is over two hundred thousand miles from the earth." Tom said rather pointedly, but Delilah's knowing flame was unwavered.

"Oh believe me, magic won't get us there. But muggle engineering will." Without either of them realizing it, Delilah followed him into his room.

"Don't make me laugh." Tom instinctively walked over to his already crowded desk, his eyes running over what he wrote in his diary. "You underestimate them so much." Delilah sighed as she sunk into the bed, staring up at the ceiling, imagining the moon above her with the American flag planted on it.

"It will be one small step for man, and one giant leap for mankind." She muttered, thinking back to those infamous words said by Neil Armstrong.

Tom scoffed and turned, diary in hand as he flipped through the pages, eyes scanning quickly. He raised his head due to the silence and he froze for a moment at the sight of Delilah splayed out across his bed.

Her arms are out at either side, her hair a golden nimbus around her head, her feet just barely hanging off the edge. The image looked oddly natural, like she was supposed to be there.

"What are you doing?" He finally said, ignoring the tension he felt growing in his throat. He relaxed his muscles and leaned against the desk, rifling through some papers to appear casual. Delilah raised her head to look at him before it suddenly dawned on her. "Oh," she quickly rolled off the bed and landed on her feet. Looking at the spot she just recently occupied before staring at her feet.

She scratched at the base of her neck and looked around the room for a moment. The room was clearly Tom's, it was almost amusing. Everything was neat but had an undertone of chaos, mostly due to his messy yet organized desk. "I'll just go." Delilah gestured towards the door but her hand paused above the door handle. Turning towards him, she found him looking at her.

"Happy Birthday."

He bit his cheek. "Happy New Year's Eve." There was a beat of silence before Delilah dipped her head and left the room. Tom stared at the place where she had laid on his bed for nearly two minutes.

_____________________________________

Just as she left Tom's room, she bumped into someone. Looking up, it was Elio. He was frowning and poked at her cheeks a few times. "You're blushing." His eyes then wandered to the door behind her, and his frown deepened.

Delilah barely took in a breath and she could nearly taste the alcohol coming off him. "Merlin, how much did you drink? You've still got two hours till midnight." She chuckled but it slowly faded as she looked at him. Something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" She asked and watched as he slumped against the wall, rubbing at his face. He was still frowning. He sighed deeply before looking up at her. The lighting in the hall was poor, but his eyes were glossy and probably bloodshot.

"Do you love me?"

Delilah felt as if someone had reached a fist inside in her lungs and ripped the air from them. She stared at him dumbly, not knowing what to say.

Yes, is what she should say. But her lips stayed parted.

Elio closed his eyes tightly and hit his head against the wall a few times, muttering the word stupid over and over again. Delilah winced as she watched him.

"Elio-"

"No, no, listen." He stumbled over his words and slowly sunk to the floor, knees propped up to his chin. "I never know how to deal with you, you- you're a very hard person to please." He hiccupped halfway through his sentence. Elio kept his eyes focused straight ahead as Delilah walked over to him and sat down, leaning her head back against the wall.

She closed her eyes and sighed, she knew this would happen eventually. "I know, I'm sorry."

He shook his head and wiped at his eyes, "Don't." If she apologized, he'd probably scream till his throat bled. "I feel like I barely know you, but every time you look at me it's like I'm glass that you find kinda interesting."

He looked at her then, and she was so beautiful. The dim orange glow warmed her skin and lit her eyes up, and her hair fell in curled waves. "You never tell me anything, I never know if you're upset, or- or I don't know. Anything! And I feel like a piece of shit because I never know what you feel, and I should, that's my job. I'm supposed to recognize when something wrong."

He closed his eyes again once he saw the necklace he gave her hung around her neck and he hit the back of his head against the wall. "Did you ever feel anything? For me, I mean? At all?"

"Of course. I still care about you." With his eyes closed, he could really pay attention to her voice. She'd said it so sadly, she sounded pained. "I always will." Delilah felt her heart drop at the sight of him, he looked broken. And she was the cause of it.

"I don't think this relationship is going anywhere, so," he sniffed and wiped at his eyes again, the skin around them irritated. Delilah swallowed and opened her mouth but he shook his head, abruptly standing up. He swayed a bit with the moment, he was more drunk than he thought.

"Don't say you're sorry. You shouldn't be. It's my fault really."

"No." She said instantly, getting up on her own feet as well. "None of this is your fault, I should've known better than to get in a relationship. I'm not exactly mentally stable for one at the moment."

Elio furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at her, he couldn't help but raise a hand to cup her cheek. She was always so cold. The door behind him seemed to scream and something tore in his chest. He was an absolute fool to fall for someone whose love was fixated on someone else. And of course that someone else had to be him.

He always took what made Elio happy, always.

And as he pulled his hand back, and turned away, what pained him the most was the fact that he still loved her. Even if she ended up with someone else, even if she ended up with him, Elio would jump off the highest bridge if she asked him to.

Delilah felt dizzy as she watched Elio walk away and go into his room, his door shutting softly. So that was it, they were done.

Part of herself knew it was for the best, but the state of him said otherwise. It really was her fault. His necklace felt so cold against her skin it nearly burned, but she couldn't bring herself to take it off. She felt like it was a part of her now. And she did care for Elio, she really did. And she hoped with whatever limited time she had left, she'd fix this new cut in their relationship before it was too late.

____________________________________

The count down to the New Years came and went, and Delilah sat rigid on her bed. The clock ticked by in a steady rhythm, and she found her heartbeat was in sync.

That scared her for some reason. Terrified her, even. Her heart was beating with each second, counting down time, almost like a warning. Telling her time was running out. It was two in the morning and she couldn't breathe.

She wasn't breathing heavily, nor was she breathing too fast. Her chest rose and fell evenly, but it felt as if no air was getting in. Panic shot up her spine like an uncomfortable itch. The room's already slanted walls seemed to slowly tilt inward, the caved ceiling sinking with each second. Her ears started to ring, and she panicked.

Without a second thought, Delilah bolted out her door.

_____________________________________

Tom heard a door slam two doors down from his; Delilah's door. His eyes turned towards the clock and he read the late hour. Was she planning on waking the whole hall? He ignored the burn to go and see what she was up to and continued to read the book in his hand.

He was sitting at his desk since he couldn't lay in his own damn bed. He tried, but it smelled so strongly of peppermint that everytime he closed his eyes he couldn't help but see her. Tom's eyes trailed to his bed again and gazed at the spot where Delilah had laid on it.

Shaking his head, Tom turned away and walked to the window. Diagon Alley was still active, but not as much as before. Orange light poured from each shop, the only light source in a few miles radius. London was dark, but not as much as usual due to the holiday. The city usually had its lights out at night due to possible bombers. But the lights were on in every other street, mostly pubs. Which still bustled with people.

What caught his eye however, was the sudden glow of golden hair crossing the street directly below his window. "What in the name of Merlin." He narrowed his eyes, before they slightly widened.

Without a thought, he grabbed his coat and was out the door.

______________________________________

He followed her as she exited Diagon Alley and into muggle London. The nights chill bit through him like a determined hound, despite his coat. Delilah was probably freezing, seeing as she simply wore a dress.

"Pontmercy!" He called out, and she whirled around. Her cheeks and nose were tinged pink due to the cold. "Are you following me?" Tom raised an eyebrow at her as he neared, stopping about a foot away. He looked her over, she wasn't shivering. But something was clearly wrong. "Obviously."

"Well stop." She turned and stomped down the street, a single street light barely making the end of the block visible. Releasing an annoyed huff, he continued after her, his long legs easily matching her stride.

"Don't be an idiot, you'll get yourself killed out here. Either by a raid or a drunkard." He knew Delilah could handle herself, she proved that by going against him. Then again, she didn't have her wand. She did know some wandless magic however, he kept meaning to ask her about that.

"Fuck off, I can handle a drunkard."

"And I believe you, but can you handle a bomb?"

"I know my way around London." She spat. Though did she really? This city was completely foreign to the one she was used to. This city was war torn.

"As do I," he said. She raised a brow and turned towards him. "You grew up here?" She noticed how Tom bit as his cheek for a moment, one of his few characteristics.

At that moment Tom realized something rather annoying. If he wanted her to open up to him, he'd have to divulge some information about himself as well. But of course he'd do it slowly, and minimally of course.

"Yes," he let out a breath and looked down the street to his left. "Not too far from here, actually." She watched as something silver glinted; the cigarette box. He pulled one out and snapped his fingers, casting both their faces in an orange glow that contrasted starkly with the blue atmosphere around them.

Delilah was about to ask him where he lived, perhaps in her own time she wandered by his house without knowing. But the words died on her tongue as she watched him stiffen.

"What?-" She began but he cut her off with a sharp look to his eye and a single finger raised, demanding she be quiet. He looked like an animal caught in headlights based off his body language. his eyes were frozen on the sky above.

And that's when she heard it, the distant siren of planes approaching. And a lot of them. Then there was the sudden mournful whistle of something deadly growing nearer.

That whistle was like the muggles own version of an omen of death.

Suddenly the sky became ablaze in a glorious, yet frightening inferno. And so many black dots zoomed around in the sky. There was a loud explosion from a different part of the city, but the ground still rumbled beneath their feet.

They looked at each other then after tearing their eyes away from the sky. "Air raid." She muttered to herself, barely having time to process the notion she was actually living during World War Two, that this was real, not something she was reading about or watching a movie on. And this wasn't some scary accurate re-enactment.

This was real.

"Tom," she breathed, the reality of the situation falling on her like a heavy weight. His jaw tightened and he ignored his own fear crawling up his neck, making the hairs stand up. He looked around quickly for a decent shelter. He spotted a building down the street, and grabbed Delilah's hand.

Tom took off in a sprint, nearly dragging her with him. They jog up the stairs and he tried the door, but it was locked. He cursed slightly and before he could even do anything, Delilah reached into his pocket and grabbed his wand, unlocking the door.

The just barely made it inside and shut the door when there was an explosion dangerously close, probably a street over. The shock of it shook the entire building, shattering the windows in the process.

Tom yanked Delilah to his chest, wrapping an arm around her to secure her balance as the ground beneath them trembled violently, and his other arm wrapped around her head, keeping her face down and away from flying glass. He wasn't so lucky however, shards tore through his close and stuck painfully into his back and his arms.

Delilah screamed, but neither could hear it over the shattering boom of another explosion, this one extremely loud and incredibly close, causing their ears to ring.

The ground shook angrily, almost like it wanted them to fall. Tom swayed and his feet stumbled, but he managed to get them in a corner. He put Delilah to the wall, leaving his back exposed to more damage if it were to be so. Neither of them could think clearly enough to cast a protection charm. Delilah couldn't even process what was happening, and Tom's main focus was the girl he held.

There were two more explosions, though farther away, before all went silent.

They remained in their position for awhile. Tom pressing her tightly to him, both wrapped around each other and breathing heavily. Once it dawned on Tom it was over, he relaxed his taut muscles and felt the sharp sting of the glass in his skin. "You idiot." Tom mumbled into her hair. He looked down at Delilah, who appeared to be shaking a little. Tom quickly realized she was in shock.

Delilah was holding so tightly onto Tom her knuckles were white and shaking. Her chest felt tight and her mind foggy, she couldn't think straight. She felt out of body, like this was some cruel trick the universe was playing on her. Delilah tried to tell herself she was fine. She wasn't just in an air raid and almost killed. She felt like screaming out her confusion to the events that just occurred.

"Delilah," His voice cut through the air like a knife. She shook her head, eyes shut so tightly it nearly hurt. "Delilah, look at me." He placed a hand on each of her cheeks to tilt her head up, ignoring the pain it caused him.

She was so cold.

A wave of calmness washed over her as she looked into his eyes. Tom had bent his head down slightly so they were at eye level, his dark orbs boring into her blue ones. Her pupils were dilated and stormy, her breath coming out in uneven pants, but she wasn't hyperventilating. "You're alright. You're here. The planes are gone."

She nodded slightly, still appearing slightly dazed. Tom sighed and pulled her back into his chest, resting his chin on top of her head and he rocked her slowly. He noticed something else then, she not only smelled like peppermint, but there was also the smell of dust after rain. Petrichor is what it was called.

"You're alright, 'Lilah."

He didn't know where the nickname came from, it just rolled off his tongue. But it felt right, like it was meant to be said. And it seemed to be the trigger to finally calm her down.

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Authors note; if I did my math correctly (idk if I did but I'm almost sure I'm right) Tom would technically be 18 his seventh year at Hogwarts