Tom began to stand up, his world tilting at dangerous angles due to his apparent concussion.

Bolting for the door, Delilah tugged at the handle for a moment before she remembered he'd slammed it shut with wards. Throwing numerous spells at the blasted piece of wood, it wouldn't budge.

Getting up to his feet, Tom held his aching side and leaned heavily against his bed, his throat feeling like sandpaper as he tried to speak.

"Just wait a moment."

She continued her assault on the door, trying to ignore his voice the best she could. Feeling suffocated by being in the same room as him.

She could hear her own heart screaming in her ears, making them ring painfully. Her rib cage felt too tight around her lungs. Pricks of needles could be felt digging into her back. Inside her shoes, Delilah's feet tingled as if they'd fallen asleep. The corners of her vision began to fade in and out.

"Delilah please just look at me."

A bile rose to her throat, she couldn't look at him, she just couldn't. Because she was afraid that if she did, she'd see him.

Not being able to take being near Tom any longer, she stepped back and aimed her wand at the wall next to the door, "reducto." Her voice was no higher than a trembling whisper, and the wall exploded, leaving a gaping hole leading into the common room.

His eyes widened and he went to grab onto her, but before he could move she bolted through her makeshift exit.

"Delilah!-" Tom's yell was cut off by his own wet cough, turning his head to spit out blood that had risen to his mouth.

She was gone, the common room door slamming shut behind her with a rattle.

Shutting his eyes tightly, both at the pain and the awful turn of events, a wince left him as he shifted his weight. The burn in his side felt like a knife was digging its way around, in search for something it'd never find.

Merlin, he'd really fucked up this time.

Locating his wand underneath a chunk of stone, Tom limped slightly as he made his way over. Summoning it to his hand, his fist as well as his jaw clenched. He didn't heal himself right away, he took in the burn, letting the pain simmer for awhile longer.

Because for the first time, he knew he deserved it.

After about fifteen minutes of him breathing heavily, the aches growing worse with each passing second, he raised his wand and got to work.

But something was wrong.

His wounds were healing at an alarmingly slow rate, the whole process being much more tedious than usual. Whatever magic she had used was causing healing himself to take longer.

A small laugh left his lips, making his ribs hurt but he didn't mind, "clever girl."

_________________________________

Delilah had shoved more than one person out of the way as she sprinted through the halls of the castle, a look of fright on her face, oblivious to the questioning glances thrown her way.

As soon as the door was in her sights, her fist pounded into the wood without a care of how loud she was being. Moments later the door flew open to reveal a curious and alert Dumbledore, who then frowned at the sight of her.

Delilah didn't wait for him to let her in, she practically threw herself passed him. Her chest was heaving, she knew she was breathing but it felt as if no air was getting in.

He closed the door and watched her for a moment, analyzing the situation in front of him. Her fingers were wound tightly in her hair and she paced back and forth, sitting down for a moment before shooting back up. She couldn't keep still.

"Delilah, I need you to-"

Shaking her head violently, Delilah pointed a finger at him. "Don't. Don't say that to me. I," her mouth felt painfully dry as her throat closed up, making it hard for her to speak. Taking a deep breath through her nose, the air burned and felt as if it'd make her bleed. She had every right to be freaking out.

Hunching herself over a desk, her fingers curling around the wooden edges painfully, she tried to steady her breathing. "Sir, he- he's- I can't be here. Not with him." She sniffed, stood up straight and righted her features before turning to look at Dumbledore.

Curious how good she was at doing that, acting like she was suddenly okay. Most would expect some tears in such a state, but her eyes weren't even glossy.

Coming to think of it, he's never seen her cry.

He was still by the door, his glasses were pushed down to the tip of his nose as he watched her with a frown on his lips. "Not with who?" he finally asked, walking over to his desk and summoning a chair and some tea, pouring a steaming cup before offering it to her.

Letting the warmth through the china seep into her palms, Delilah kept telling herself she'd calmed down. But her legs were still shaking and her skin itched. How the hell was she supposed to tell him without giving anything away?

It took her a moment to work up the courage to even say his name, she didn't want to think about what she just discovered.

Did this mean all of her friends were first generation death eaters? Who'd all see her dead if they knew who she was? Who'd see her friends and family dead?

Raising the steaming cup to her lips, she inhaled the hot air and closed her eyes. "Riddle, I can't be here with him. No one should, he," Delilah had to force her mouth shut as she mulled over what words to choose.

Dumbledore sat there patiently, giving her as much time as she needed. He already had questions surrounding Tom's character, but with Delilah now bringing him up, he wondered if his suspicions were right.

Setting the cup down with trembling hands, Delilah then had to sit on top of them to keep them from moving. "He's, how do I even put this. What he becomes... millions will be considered collateral damage."

"We can't change the future by meddling with the past Miss Meddows-"

"Just me being here is meddling with the past."

"Yes, however-"

"Sir, he's the one who killed me."

His whole body went stiff the moment the words left her mouth. Flashes of her memory he viewed resurfaced, of the creature he saw standing over her in the Ministry, pale and ghastly, eyes gleaming red and slits for nostrils.

An ache so profound settled deep within him, making his whole body feel numb with sorrow. Is that really what Tom becomes? Will he become so enveloped by the allure of the dark, that it leads him so far astray?

Dumbledore thought back to the eighteen year old currently in his transfigurations class. He was just a child, no matter how mature he acted. And he was brilliant, his eyes filled with ambition to be better and to learn and absorb more knowledge than most would ever dream of.

And he was going to torture and kill the girl currently sitting in front of him. That threw Dumbledore off slightly, he's seen the way Tom acted around her, how he looked at her. It wasn't that Delilah had seemed to change him, no, Dumbledore didn't think anyone could change Tom.

But she did seem to wake something so deeply buried inside him, that it was unrecognizable as himself. But it was, Tom had just hidden it so many years ago he forgot it even existed.

"How did you piece this together?"

"You. You told me. In my sixth year. Gave me such a clear warning, even his bloody name, and I still didn't piece it together until now."

"What did I say?"

Her brows furrowed, thinking he wouldn't want her to tell him considering the whole spew of undoing the natural line of history. Nonetheless, she recalled the speech he gave back at the beginning of term feast her sixth year. She felt a jab to her heart at remembering that was the last one he'd ever give, considering it was the year he was murdered.

Removing his glasses, Dumbledore rubbed at the corners of his eyes with two fingers, "yes it all makes sense now."

"What does?" She hated when he did that, he never gave a straight answer, carrying himself cryptically. Although he may do it absentmindedly. "Delilah, this may be hard to hear, however I feel it's vital that you do anyway. No matter if you don't understand."

Her teeth gritted and she sat back in the chair, twirling Elio's necklace, the pull of the chain around her neck oddly comforting. She wanted to yell at him to spit it out, but his gaze became wary as he looked at her.

"Mr. Riddle needs to go to the Ministry with you."

Stiffening for only a moment, she then shot out of her chair, making it fall back and hit the floor. "Are you mental? Did you not just hear me say he fired the fucking killing curse at me?"

"Sit down," his voice was crisp as he looked at her, his twinkling eyes burning into hers. He waved his hand and the chair was upright again. She wanted to argue, but that would get her nowhere, so begrudgingly she sat.

"Delilah listen to me. He is not... what was it you called him that one time? Ah yes, Voldemort. He is not that monster. Not yet. That creature you saw at the Ministry isn't the person you know. Voldemort is irrational, brash, and kills without a whim of remorse. That isn't Tom. You know that. He is just an eighteen year old boy who's very lost at the moment."

Biting at her cheek, Delilah shook her head and turned to look out the window. How could she believe what Dumbledore was saying is true? After all she's seen, after what she's been through. What he himself has put her through.

Now, and in the future.

"So you're suggesting we change the entire course of history?"

"No," he corrected, his eyes sharp. Though there was that underlying glint that he knew something else, something that he wouldn't tell her. He sighed then, his age suddenly catching up to him in that moment, the late afternoon sun catching in the grays of his auburn hair.

"Mr. Riddle can get you into the Ministry, Delilah. And then you will be well on your way home, the course of time will continue as it was originally laid out." He tapped his nose and gave her a smile.

"Things will work out better than you might expect, don't fret."

_________________________________

When she left Dumbledore's office silently fuming, she made a beeline for Ravenclaw tower. She couldn't bring herself to walk to the dungeons in fear of who'd she'd run into, whether it be the boys or Tom.

After answering the riddle, Delilah frantically looked around the common room before her eyes settled on a familiar face.

"Alek, hey." She smiled at him the best she could, holding her chin up and her shoulders back, she didn't need people asking questions.

He returned her smile for a moment before he frowned, "what's wrong?"

"How did you?- never mind, um, I was wondering if I could maybe stay here awhile? Do you know if there's any available beds? Maybe even a dorm if I'm lucky?" Scratching at the back of her neck, Delilah looked around to see if she knew any girls her age but came up short.

"Maybe you can room up with Katerina? I don't think she'd mind."

A hopeful smile graced her lips, why didn't she think of that? It was the obvious solution. "Mind if I ask why you want to stay here?" Shoving his hands in his pockets, Aleksander tilted his head to the side in polite interest. Biting at her cheek, she shrugged half heartedly and crossed her own arms. "I had a rather bad revaluation recently, and an argument considering morals and wrong doings."

"With Riddle?"

Delilah raised a brow at him, he was rather good at piecing things together quickly. Yes, he was a Ravenclaw, but that didn't make it any less unnerving. Delilah didn't need the extra stress of Aleksander possibly figuring out something he shouldn't.

Smiling in understanding, he waved a hand towards the stairs on one side of the common room. "Girls dorm-"

"I know where it is," she spun around, not aware of her sudden shift to being aloof as she stalked up the stairs. Aleksander watched her go up, his lips tilted slightly in amusement. Delilah never did stop surprising him.

__________________________________

Waking up panting, there was a cool dampness felt on her forehead and she wiped it off in agitation. That was the third time she had woken up in the past two hours, completely shaken and her nerves on high alert.

She hated nightmares, and the past two days they've only gotten worse. Memories Delilah thought she had tamed long ago had suddenly broken free from their shackles, coming at her full speed with fangs barred and out for blood.

When she turned towards her nightstand, she froze, Katerina was also sitting up in bed and staring at her wide eyed. A blush rose to her cheeks, hopefully she wasn't talking in her sleep. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"You were screaming," Katerina muttered, eyes running over Delilah for a moment to assess her, she was still shaking.

Feeling herself pale, Delilah cleared her throat and looked at anything else in the room besides her. "Must've been a bad dream," she laughed lightly but her amusement wasn't met. Katerina's eyes grew sad and seemed to expand, "those were real screams, Delilah, not the kind that happens when reacting to a work of the imagination."

Shifting uncomfortably, Delilah laid back down and tried to let herself sink into the soft sheets, but they felt oddly rough against her skin. "I sounded like that when they marked me." Katerina's voice echoed around the room and an uneasy weight dropped in Delilah's stomach.

"It was just a nightmare, a realistic one, go back to sleep."

Delilah heard a sigh pass the girl's lips and the ruffles of fabric, meaning she had laid back down. She however, kept her eyes open and stared blankly at the drapery above her.

"I'm here if you ever want to talk, you're not alone, even if you want to be."

Delilah didn't answer, she didn't know how. She didn't want to be alone, did she? Shaking her head, she couldn't sleep, and part of herself didn't want to.

So for the next few days she fell into the bad habit of keeping her hours filled with tasks, all to keep her mind preoccupied and to ignore the problems around her. Studying for exams for hours on end even though she didn't need to. Counting all the paintings and the books in the library. Going down to the kitchens and baking or watching the house elves during meals, she couldn't bring herself to go to the Great Hall. Walking around the castle, but taking desolate routes to avoid people. Going to the forbidden forest.

And before Delilah knew it, she threw herself into a makeshift reality of isolation.

Four days had passed with not so much as three hours of rest, but she didn't mind and almost welcomed the light headedness crawling up the back of her skull.

It was better than the psychological pain she would've felt if she let her eyes close. If she let herself see the hours of torture she went through at the hand of his followers, and himself. Or the sight of him standing over her, a cruel and decrepit smile on his pale lips as he said the unforgivable so softly it might've been a caress.

No, she'd take the exhaustion over that any day.

But alas, on the fifth day when she had sought out asylum in the Room of Requirement, she noticed something was wrong.

Her eyes squinted at the pages of the book she was reading, a study of blood magic, but the words were morphing into a language she couldn't understand. Delilah's head felt fuzzy and she shook it irritably, but when she looked up she'd frozen.

The Room of Requirement had suddenly morphed into what looked like a more dim version of the atrium at the Ministry. Delilah stood up from her place on the couch and walked to the foot of the large marble statue, eyes trailing over the sight of muggles holding up a wizard. She then read the words at the base, 'Magic is Might'.

There was a crack of a missed spell that rebounded on a wall, making it ring all around her. Whirling around, Delilah's eyes widened at what she was seeing.

It was herself, in her nice dress robes, red converse pounding against the tile as she ran. Delilah watched as her own eyes lightened at the sight of the Floo Network, a blazing green inferno of promised death glimmering behind her. But then something stepped out of the shadows and she was thrown back with a startled scream.

Delilah watched as that god forsaken package flew from her grasp. Something glinted through the wrapping, momentarily blinding her, but before she could get a good look she heard a scream. Turning, Delilah saw Voldemort standing over her.

No. She didn't want to see this.

He twisted his wand, causing her to thrash and her spine bend at an odd angle, making the veins pop out in her throat as she let out a blood curdling scream.

But Delilah couldn't pull her eyes away from that, that thing. Was that really what Tom would become? Standing over her, his crimson eyes apathetic to her suffering.

He tilted the tip of his wand up, momentarily raising her head before slamming it down into the marble flooring. The sound of her skull cracking rebounded off the curved ceiling and Delilah watched herself lose consciousness for a moment. She felt sick, but there was nothing in her system to throw up, she hasn't eaten in two days.

"Oh my sincere apologies." He hissed, making Delilah's blood run cold at the sound of it. That wasn't Tom's voice. His was a low rasp that would carry over a room softly but resolutely, almost like an over roisend bow. "You loathe being considered pathetic, Miss Meddows. Don't you?"

She paled at the sight of recognition in his eyes as he looked down upon her. "How did you-" her past self spoke, only to be cut off by him hitting her with another wave of the cruciatus curse.

Delilah staggered back and hit the base of the fountain, staring at him as his anger seemed to take hold, giving her lash after lash of sheer agony. She could only faintly recall those moments, her nervous system had started to give out.

But that wasn't the reason she was staring at him, no, not at all.

"Please," she choked out, her body convulsing on the floor. Something odd happened then, he froze, his wand still raised, his chest heaving. But when he bit his cheek, Delilah saw that as a sign he was thinking. She knew that mannerism.

Just as a sigh of relief passed her lips, his eyes shone and there was a flash of green so bright that it made Delilah squint her eyes.

He had recognized her, and he killed her anyway.

Her head spun before she saw what happened next, and she collapsed with the weight of shock and sleep deprivation on her shoulders.

She awoke with a scream, looking around her frantically before she came to realize she was still in the Room of Requirement, slumped over a stack of books uncomfortably.

Did she really just hallucinate?

Her hand rose to the back of her head, but there was nothing there. Merlin, she really needed sleep.

_________________________________

A hand waved in front of her and she blinked a few times, snapping out of her trance. Aleksander was crouching down beside her, a look of worry on his nice features.

"You alright, love? You've been zoned out for," he looked at his watch and raised a brow, "three hours." Delilah swallowed, her mouth was awfully dry and she felt exhausted. She'd been replaying what she saw on repeat in her head, trying to piece her mind together into one coherent thought.

"Yeah I'm fine, just been distracted lately with the Ministry plan." The lie rolled off her tongue easily and he hummed in understanding. "About that," he began, taking a seat next to her on the rug. "My brother said he can get us into the Department of Mysteries, but actually getting into the Ministry itself is on us. He'll be waiting at the entrance of the Department. But he needs a time and date... is Riddle still involved in all this?"

She didn't want him to come, she really didn't. But Dumbledore thought otherwise. In fact, he seemed rather adamant on Tom joining her. How could the old man be so sure Tom and Voldemort weren't the same?

But as she sat and allowed herself to mull over it, and dissect the situation in front of her, there did seem to be a strict dichotomy.

Voldemort is a mad man, not even a man. He'd destroyed that part of himself into something unrecognizable. His love for power became his greatest enemy, and his longing for immortality crushed whatever humanity he had left.

Tom is an eighteen year old boy, who's incredibly intelligent, charismatic, had an inflated ego, arrogant, stubborn as hell, and he had a terrible temper. And when his control broke, that's when suggestions of something darker and more dangerous broke through.

But there were moments, moments that separated him from that creature. And by god, Delilah was latching onto those for the life of her, almost as if they were her life line. All to convince herself he wasn't the thing that killed her and so many others.

That he really was just a teen boy, in search for something greater yet is completely unaware of how catastrophic that something is.

Delilah latched onto the moments when they would bicker, bouncing ideas or insults off one another, as if they've known each other for years and had been able to reach an equilibrium. The moments when they danced together, whether it was on a ballroom floor or in the snow.

When he balanced a wand on his nose just to appease her, or his constant teasing. When he gave her a rose, and healed her cuts.

She knew it wasn't his fault when she had started to bleed out everywhere. But her anger at him for reading her mind clouded her rationality of that predicament afterward. Delilah could now recollect him coming to her attention the moment she started to show signs something was wrong.

How he kneeled down at her side and brushed her hair out of her face. And she remembered him sounding worried. Tom Riddle never worried.

She remembered him picking her up, cradling her to his chest and rushing her back to the manor, and he almost looked frightened at the sight of her.

It wasn't the first time she started bleeding out, but it had never been that severe.

Then she remembered him cleaning off her blood, and stopping her from hyperventilating. And later on how he protected her during the bombing, and after how he made sure she was okay. How he actually asked.

That was the person she wanted to believe in. But was any of it real? Was it just a facade to make her trust him? Is Voldemort lingering under the surface right now, waiting to break free?

Nonetheless, he would be helpful, especially if they got into any trouble. He was a very persuasive person.

And perhaps this was a way she could use Tom's skill for her own gain, and in some complicated way, it was a means to get back at him for all the suffering he has yet to cause.

But in having such a thought, Delilah did a dangerous thing; lying to oneself never ends well. Maybe this was all just an elaborate scheme to convince herself that he wasn't Voldemort, not yet. That he was just a boy who made all the wrong choices.

And maybe, just maybe, she could help him choose right, at least once.

"Yeah, I'll talk to him."

_________________________________

Later that evening, Delilah was sat against the bookshelf on the floor, her nose dug in a book when there was a rap on the wood. Looking up, her eyes widened slightly.

"Elio?"

He gave her a slight smile, "Ravenclaw has their own private library? I'm jealous." He gestured to the spot next to her and she nodded, closing her book and patting the ground. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to see if you were okay, I haven't seen you all week," he felt the butterflies in his stomach go into a frenzy when she rested her head on his shoulder. A blush rose to his cheeks as he rested his cheek against her hair, staring straight ahead at the books in front of him.

Truth is, he was a bit more concerned than he should've been, because Tom was acting so odd the past few days. More abnormal than he already was. Elio wanted to ask what happened after he and the boys left, but thought best not to. Seeing as the two of them had gone a bit off the rails.

"I'm fine," she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze, trying to reassure not only him, but herself. Elio dug in his pocket for a moment with his free hand and dropped a bag into her lap. "What's this?"

"Pepper imps," he knew those were her favorite, and his heart warmed at the smile she gave him. "Thank you," she offered him one but he shook his head. "Olive and Lita are asking about you."

Delilah sighed and rested her head back on Elio's shoulder, twisting his necklace around absentmindedly. "I should probably head back their soon." Her eyes trailed over the Ravenclaw common room, with its high windows and charmed ceiling that made it look like the cosmos were in her grasp. It felt like home there, her real home. And when she was alone, she could almost act like everything was normal again.

Alas, that just wasn't the case. There were more pressing matters. Such as an aspiring Dark Lord.

"How did this even start?" Delilah partly wondered if him growing up in an orphanage had anything to do with it. But loads of people grow up orphans, that doesn't mean they all turned out to be raging sociopaths.

"I don't know," Elio said truthfully, his voice but a whisper.

"Riddle is complicated, infuriatingly so. No one knows where he came from. He just popped up out of nowhere, bringing this storm of charm, intellect, and ambition in his wake. I think his curiosity is his weakness, no matter how destructive a thing is, if he finds it fascinating, he'll stop at nothing to figure it out. That darkness in him... I have no idea where that came from. But one day, it'll swallow him whole."

"You don't think it already has?"

He thought about it for a moment, mulling over the seven years he's known Tom. But as he looked at Delilah, he thought back to all the times he's seen the two together, despite how painful it always was. There was a new light in Tom, a light Delilah had seemed to ignite, trying to crack through the abyss of darkness.

"No, no I don't."

There was a brief pause before he raised a finger, "now don't get me wrong. He's dreadful, and complete shit. But he's not gone, not yet. God help us when that happens."

A dry laugh left her lips then as she recalled the future awaiting the wizarding world, "Yeah, god help us all."

"On a lighter note, one that doesn't involve Riddle," Elio began and offered her a grin. "Valentine's day is coming up. Do you want to do something? Something fun, take your mind off things." Before she could even open her mouth, a deep blush flooded his cheeks and his words tumbled from his lips, "just as friends of course."

Nudging him in the side, Delilah felt herself genuinely smile for the first time in awhile, "that would be lovely, thank you."

__________________________________

Please VOTE & COMMENT if you enjoyed!!

I was listening to "Lily's Theme" from the score of the Deathly Hallows pt.2  while writing, and it's so stunningly beautiful, give it a listen!!

Also, I've posted my own character studies on a new Instagram account; vellxchor , and I'll be posting other Harry Potter characters down the line as well. Maybe even some other fandoms, such as Doctor Who or Marvel? I've posted all the "Hierarchy of Need" characters already, but my favorite post is a study I did of Regulus!!

I'm also officially moving houses in the next two days, so the next update might be awhile? We'll see! I'll keep you updated the best I can!

I'm thinking of even making my room Harry Potter themed? Mostly Ravenclaw, considering that's my house.

Again, THANK YOU to everyone who's been reading and who has invested into these characters, it means the world to me!!