Thirty Nine

Lily

  Ginger and nutmeg had never been Lily's favourite sort of tea. It was the kind she would steer away from, imagining the heat of it would be too much for her. 

  That was before William. 

  Something about that puppy-eyed teenage boy had lured her into the heat, into falling in love over her head and ultimately, due to her own albeit selfish desires to change him, got him killed.

  Now she was here, in the kitchen of the house that they were meant to share, drinking the tea that he was meant to be drinking with her. It was his favourite, after all, not hers. The fresh smell of it filled the air, steamed the windows to the last lights of the day playing with their daughter on the grass of the garden out the back.

  Lily glanced out the window, watching Willow chase a bug in the dirt with her curious mind exploring the wonders of their little world. She felt safe from everything here, alone, but safe.

  She hadn't thought about William in a long time, with enrolling Willow into daycare as well as living her own undercover Muggle job, she had almost forgotten the reason she had joined the Order, why she had joined to avenge the love of her life.

  It was moments like these she remembered, the sudden loneliness and the realisation that Willow would never meet the man who made her, the man who had desperately wanted to be a father to her. She would only ever know his kindness through stories, his good looks through pictures, his laugh through her own. None of it seemed enough, and none of it really seemed fair that the man who had taken all of that away from William, away from her and away from Willow, now had that life of his own.

  She couldn't blame Rosalie for it, not in the slightest. She knew the hooks that love could keep in you to reel you back in time and time again. But still, she had her premonitions about it. She loved Rosalie as much as she loved William. Tom had stolen her back again, and it was unfair, but it was love, real love, uncut and without distortion. He was the example of the lengths a person was willing to go just to find his own personal love.

  Willow's auburn hair glinted in the sunlight as she began to chase a flying butterfly. Lily set down her mug, her heart swelling with love and worry simultaneously as she walked over to the kitchen counter, the letter she had received by the owl this morning lay hesitantly unopened. Its edges were neatly sealed with the unmistakable emblem of Albus Dumbledore. She didn't want to open it, afraid of its contents. But for the sake of that little girl out there, she needed to.

  She hesitated for a moment before picking it up, breaking the seal with a deep breath as she began to read, her eyes skipping lines of the small cursive writing. The initial lines were formal, as Dumbledore's letters often were, but the message quickly shifted to a tone of urgency.

  She read the plan of attack and found herself shivering. She had been waiting on this letter for days, weeks even, but the ugly truth of it was quite real now. It was befitting of justice yet simply poetic to hear that Dumbledore himself would be the one to attempt to kill Tom Riddle, even at the expense of his wife, her best friend.

  Lily read the words and the lines around her eyes folded.

  His pregnant wife.

  Her breath caught in her throat, the cursive words hard to read but easily understandable. It wasn't all that unexpected in the raw realness of things, but she realised just how deep Rosalie had managed to place herself. But she knew one thing, that Dumbledore would never be able to kill Tom if Rosalie was there, if she herself was still a Horcrux. Not that any of that mattered, of course. Pregnant or not, she knew Rosalie would throw herself in the line of fire before letting Tom get injured. 

  No matter how much he deserved it.

  Her fingers trembled as she turned the page. She continued reading, and her heart beat quickly. Dumbledore seemed certain Tom would never let a pregnant Rosalie near any danger, and the tutting that Lily made deemed it obvious that yes, he wouldn't, but he hadn't counted for Rosalie's determination.

  There was an annoyance in Lily's hand as the letter slipped from her fingers and burst into flames upon hitting the floor, a security measure no doubt made by Dumbledore to ensure its contents remained secret. She stood frozen, staring at the charred remnants, her mind racing.

  The phone rang suddenly, jolting her out of her stupor. She picked it up, still in a daze. "Hello?"

  "Lily!" It was Daniel, his voice frantic and filled with disbelief. "She's pregnant? How? How could this happen?"

  "You know how," Lily replied softly, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and sorrow.

  "Yeah, well, of course I do," Daniel said, his tone shifting from shock to something darker. "Could it be mine?"

  Lily closed her eyes, the weight of his question pressing down on her. "I doubt it, Daniel," she said, annoyed that his voice was the one she was hearing at the moment. After spending more time with him, she had finally realised how much of a follower he became.

  "Yeah, you're probably right," he said, though he didn't sound convinced. "But she can't possibly think it's okay to bear that man's children."

  Lily looked down, her heart aching. She hated Tom, truly, but she loved Rosalie. "Love is fickle like that," she whispered.

  "We have to do something to get her back, Dumbledore can't possibly think he could defeat both her and Voldemort." Daniel insisted, his voice rising with desperation.

  "No," Lily said firmly. "Don't even think about it. You'll just get yourself killed."

  She hung up the phone, her hands shaking. She felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Looking out the window at Willow, she knew she had to stay strong for her daughter. She picked up the phone again and dialled again, her hands quick and with purpose.

  "Cindy? It's Lily. Could you come over and babysit Willow for a bit? I... I need to take care of something."

  "Of course, Mrs. Lestrange," Cindy replied cheerfully. "I can be there in ten minutes."

  "That's perfect. Thank you so much." Lily thanked her and hung up, her mind still reeling from the news. She knew she had to stay composed for Willow's sake, but inside, she felt like she was falling apart. As she watched her daughter play, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her chest.

  Rosalie's choice to stay with Tom, to carry his child, was something Lily could never understand.

  Love was indeed fickle, and sometimes it led people down paths that seemed impossible to comprehend. But one thing was certain—no matter what happened, she would protect her family, she would try to protect her friends. She would do everything in her power to keep them safe, even if it meant making the hardest decisions of her life.

---

  Something about the morning at the chateau seemed warmer than usual. The early light bathed the sprawling estate in an orange glow, casting long shadows over the manicured lawns and illuminating the opulent interiors. Rosalie stood at the door, leaning against the frame in her robe, watching as Tom took his briefcase and walked past her. His presence, despite the vastness of their home, always made her feel secure and cherished.

  Tom turned around, and Rosalie grabbed his arm, pulling him closer. He placed his things down, stepping towards her with a rare, tender softness in his eyes that she knew was reserved solely for her. His hand caressed her face, trailing down to her swollen belly, admiring the life he had created within her. In moments like these, Tom's love for her felt almost palpable, an unspoken bond that neither words nor actions could fully capture.

  "I won't be home late," he promised, his voice low and reassuring. "I'm already dying to see you again."

  Rosalie's heart fluttered at his words. "I have a surprise for you once you're home," she said, her smile growing as she handed him his briefcase.

  Tom raised his eyebrows playfully, his hands trailing down to Rosalie's chest with a light touch. "Oh? What kind of surprise?" he teased.

  She laughed, lightly knocking his hand away. "Not that kind of surprise, pervert."

  Tom held his hands up in mock surrender. "What? I can't dote on my wife?" He leaned into her neck, kissing her softly, a lingering temptation to cancel his day and spend it in bed with her.

  Rosalie giggled, running her fingers through his hair. "Hardly doting, more like teasing a poor pregnant woman."

  "I know you love it when I tease you, darling." He kissed her softly once more before pulling away, chuckling at the subtle roll of her eyes. He lifted his head and pulled her back into an embrace.

  "Be safe," she whispered, her lips brushing his cheek.

  "I will," he replied, giving her one last lingering kiss before walking away, apparating with a soft pop, leaving Rosalie alone in the vast and echoing expanse of their house. The quietness made her more excited for the noise of a child. She longed for even more than just Tom's occasional laughter to fill the rooms.

  She sighed, placing a hand on her growing stomach. The baby kicked gently. Taking off her slippers, she padded into the kitchen, where the remnants of their breakfast lay scattered on the table. She set about cleaning up, finding comfort in the familiar routine.

  Rosalie had only just begun scrubbing a dish when a sudden sound startled her. The familiar sound of apparation filled her ears, and she placed the plate down, walking a few steps out of the kitchen. She felt herself pale when she didn't hear Tom call for her as he usually did upon returning home. Instinctively, she reached for her wand.

  No one apart from Tom and Rosalie was allowed to apparate within the property, and only the Death Eaters knew the exact location of the house. Her heart raced as she moved cautiously towards the living room.

  "Rose!" a familiar voice called out, and Lily stepped into view, turning the corner of the hallway.

  Rosalie's grip on her wand loosened, and she felt it fall to the floor. "What the hell are you doing here?" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of shock and concern.

  Lily slowly lifted her arms to cross them over her chest. The distance between them was uncomfortable, and the unspoken questions suffocating. She raised an eyebrow, her eyes timid. "I haven't seen you in more than seven months, and this is the first thing you say to me?"

  Rosalie could feel the warmth in her eyes well up as she took a step closer to Lily, worried about why and how she was here. She had betrayed the Order to be with Tom and never expected Lily to understand, she knew what she chose.

  But the affection in Lily's eyes told her all she needed to know. Rosalie rushed forward, enveloping Lily in a tight hug. "I've missed you," she whispered. "But you really can't be here. I can't explain that to Tom."

  Lily pulled back slightly, looking into Rosalie's eyes. "I know. And you don't have to explain. I understand why you didn't reply to my letter." The words were brittle on her tongue, as if she shouldn't have said them. Rosalie couldn't bear to look into Lily's eyes for too long without feeling an inch of guilt.

  Rosalie sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I just couldn't... I knew what I was doing to you..." Her words were as guilty as her actions, but Lily held onto her.

  Lily shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. "I'm not mad at you, Rose."

  "But Tom—"

  "I do hate Tom. With everything in me," Lily interrupted, but her grip on her friend didn't fade. She wanted Rosalie to understand the choices before her.

  "I got over William's death a long time ago. But that doesn't mean he doesn't live in my heart every day, that I don't feel pain when I look at my daughter. I will never forgive the man who gave Willow and I that pain, but you, Rose." She looked at Rosalie's eyes, full of regret that she didn't deserve to own.

  "You are not Tom. You might love him, but you are not him. I know out of all people how hard it is to love someone unconditionally when part of them is everything you hate. I can't blame you because you couldn't change him."

  Rosalie looked at her friend, her soul torn between defending her husband and agreeing with her friend simultaneously. "I don't expect you to forgive him. Ever. Sometimes, I can't remember why I forgave him. But I know that as hard as it is to accept, I'm happy." She smiled briefly, feeling guilty for it. She got to keep her partner, and Lily's was brought to death with his actions.

  Her hand reached up to Rosalie's cheek. She pinched it softly, a note of understanding in her eyes. She glanced down at her friend's stomach, her hands dropping to feel the bump that she hand't quite expected. She laughed and wiped her eyes. "Wow, look at you, barefoot and pregnant," she said, attempting to lighten the mood and forget just who she was pregnant for.

  Rosalie laughed, a soft, genuine sound. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around her friend's forgiveness; it seemed too kind, more than she deserved.

  "How did you find me?" Rosalie asked, deciding to enjoy the fact that she had been forgiven.

  "Dumbledore mentioned the town he saw you in. Then I looked for the most expensive and most secluded property around," Lily explained. "I figured Tom would be the one to only buy the best for you." There was a small grin in her words.

  Rosalie shook her head. "He's extravagant."

  Lily's expression softened as she watched Rosalie look around the home, her breath heavy. "Are you happy?" she asked intentionally. She could see the crack in Rosalie's demeanour, the curious pique in her words.

  Rosalie looked back at her friend, caught in her eyes before her hand rested protectively on her stomach. "I am. We're having a boy." She nodded, and Lily's face went numb.

  She shook her head and had to stare at her friend again, a warmth in her smile. "Who would've thought? Just a few years after Hogwarts and you'd be here." She grabbed her friend's arm and stroked it.

  "Sometimes even I don't understand it. It's domestic. It feels so normal yet it's not. Not in the slightest," Rosalie tilted her head.

  "I suspect nothing would ever be normal with Tom," Lily said, her voice hardening as she stood straight.

  Rosalie suppressed her smile and began to back away from Lily, walking towards the kitchen again before being called back.

  "Rose," Lily called. She walked a few paces towards her again, her face growing serious.

  "I need you to know something." She said, her face questioning her own actions. But ultimately, Rosalie could see that this was why she was really here, why she had come to visit.

  "When Dumbledore comes for Tom, you can't be anywhere near him." Rosalie's heart skipped a beat, her mind tumbling over the meaning behind the words. She felt her fingers shake, and her eyes dissociate.

  "So he's definitely coming?" she asked slowly, quietly. Her eyes trailed along the rivets in the floor.

  "Yes," Lily confirmed. "And he knows that you won't be anywhere near him because of Tom's desire to protect you, to protect—" Lily motioned towards her stomach, her eyes trailing over her again, not used to the sight.

  She swallowed and nodded, continuing. "I've already chosen my side, Rose, and though I love you, I can't be on your side ever again. But I want you to be safe, I need you to be safe just as much as Voldem-"

  Lily paused, correcting herself.

  "As much as Tom does. So please, for your child's sake. Don't get involved. I know how you are but I'm begging you. Be selfless."

  Rosalie felt the lump in her throat harden. The look of pain on her friend's face brought back the very guilt she had just worked on. She was right. They would never be on the same side again, and it was hard. It was unfair, but it was love.

  "I think you should go," Rosalie said softly.

  Lily nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "Be safe, Rose." Her face was hard, and she meant every syllable of it.

  "I will," Rosalie replied, the urge for tears washing over her as she watched Lily hesitate, gripping her wand. She could feel her friend memorising her face, seeing the pain of the other side.

  Lily held back desperately, and breathed quietly as she finally apparated away. The house felt emptier, the silence louder after her departure. Rosalie stood in the kitchen, the echoes of their conversation lingering. She knew she had to make a choice, a decision that would affect not just her but her unborn child.

  Rosalie leaned against the counter, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty and fear. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. The life she had built with Tom, however loving, felt precarious, like a house of cards that could collapse at any moment.

  As she resumed cleaning up the kitchen, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled over her. The memory of Lily's words haunted her, and she knew she couldn't ignore the warning. Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more frightening than the last.

  By midday, the sun's warmth had seeped into the house, casting a comforting glow through the windows. Rosalie decided to take a break and stepped outside into the garden. She found solace among the flowers and the gentle hum of bees. The vibrant colours and fragrant scents offered a temporary escape from her worries.

  She wandered to the edge of the field, under the beech tree that hung over the lake at an angle. Sitting down, Rosie placed her hands on her stomach, feeling the baby's gentle movements.

  "What are we going to do, little one?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. He was going to be here in only two or three short months.

  Time seemed to stand still as she sat there, lost in thought. She remembered the early days of her relationship with Tom, how he had been so different from anyone she had ever known. His ambition, his intensity—it had all been so captivating, his darkness impossible to ignore. But as the years passed, the darkness within seemed like it had faded. Not gone, just suspended away in a corner that he refused to let her see.

  Rosalie closed her eyes, allowing the memories to flood her mind. She had always believed in the goodness within Tom, convinced that her love could help him. But now, with his child on the way, the stakes were higher. She couldn't afford to be naive anymore. Her love for Tom was unwavering, and there was no question she would remain by his side. Yet, she grappled with how to be useful, how to support him and how to be his.

  She wondered what mattered most in the world. Each time she asked herself that question, the answer was always the same: Tom. Even more than the child they had made together, as dark as it sounded.

  As the afternoon wore on, Rosalie stayed in the kitchen until the last light faded, leaning against the counter with her belly still round and a mind full of worries. She understood the danger they faced, but the thought of losing Tom was unbearable. She often found herself staring into space, consumed by the uncertainty of their future in the war to come.

  It was a haunting question: Could she carry on living if the happiness in her life vanished? Would his child be enough to sustain her? She prayed she would never have to find out.

  And if she were to die? What would become of Tom? Would he continue on his dark path, feeling unloved and unwanted? Would the world suffer for his loss? The thought ran deep, a question she had barely dared to consider. What about their son? Would Tom love him unconditionally without her presence? Would he keep him safe?

  And if they both were to die? What would become of their son? An orphan, deprived of the love of parents who had meant to protect him. He would no longer be a Riddle but an Evans, a child who existed in name but not in reality.

  By the time evening fell, Rosalie was exhausted but resolute in her decision. She couldn't listen to Lily even if she wanted to. She had to protect Tom over anything. The evening was quiet, the vast expanse of the house cloaked in a serene stillness that was both comforting and disconcerting. Rosalie sat in the living room, the gentle crackling of the fireplace the only sound accompanying her thoughts.

  The silence was abruptly broken by the familiar sound of the front door creaking open. Tom was home. He walked in, his eyes tired, but his expression brightened as soon as he saw her.

   "My beautiful wife," he said warmly, crossing the room in a few quick strides to plant a tender kiss on her lips.

  Rosalie smiled back, attempting to mask the turmoil churning within her. "How was your day?" she asked, her voice steady, though her heart raced.

  "Busy, as always," Tom replied, sinking into the couch beside her. "But I couldn't stop thinking about you." He reached out, taking her hand in his, and she squeezed it gently.

  She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I have something to tell you, Tom."

  Concern flashed in his eyes, a shadow crossing his face. "What is it?"

  Rosalie's throat tightened as she spoke. "Lily came to see me today."

  Tom's expression darkened instantly, his jaw setting hard. "How? What did she want?"

  "She came to warn me," Rosalie said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "She begged me not to go with you to fight Dumbledore. I can't help but think she knows something- like I need to be there..."

  Tom's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger igniting within them. "No, she's right. You can't."

  Rosalie stood up, her heart pounding. "I have to, Tom. You're the most important thing in the world to me."

  Tom shook his head vehemently, stepping closer and gripping her shoulders gently but firmly. "Don't you get it? You are to me what the sun is to the flowers. Without you, I may as well be a dead man. I will not lose you. I cannot afford it. You will stay here."

  Tears welled up in Rosalie's eyes as she looked at him, her heart breaking at the thought of being separated, the sheer possibility of what could happen if he wasn't careful. "But Tom—"

  "No," he interrupted, his voice firm but tender. "This isn't up for discussion. I can face Dumbledore, but I can't face losing you. Not now, not ever."

  Rosalie's resolve wavered, her love for him clashing with her instinct to stand by his side. She reached up, cupping his face in one hand, the other on her stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. "Tom, we need to be together in this. We need to protect our family."

  Tom's gaze softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him. "I am protecting our family," he murmured into her hair, his voice a blend of resolve and vulnerability. 

  "But there is no way you will be anywhere near me when he attacks," Tom declared, his voice a mix of command and desperation as he felt himself lost in her touch

  Rosalie pulled away from him, a sudden coldness at Tom's skin, her eyes blazing with frustration. "But I can protect you!"

  "No!" Tom's voice was harsh, but his eyes softened as he continued. "That is not your job. Not when you're carrying our son, not ever. You are my weakness. You are the one thing that could cause me to lose because I would give the world just to keep you safe. I have to keep you safe."

  Rosalie's heart ached at his words, but the determination in her eyes did not waver. Tom caught her tongue before she could speak, he held his hand up at her, words spilling from his thoughts.

   "When you became mine, you agreed to this. I love you too much to lose you."

  Tom wiped his face, his hands trembling with the intensity of his emotions. He saw the fire in Rosalie's eyes, the unyielding resolve, and it both infuriated and terrified him. He turned away from her, the weight of his fears pressing heavily on his shoulders. "You have to understand," he said, his voice now a whisper. "I can't do what you want if I know you're in danger."

  Rosalie watched him walk away, her heart torn between her fierce love for him and her unyielding desire to stand by his side. She knew he was right, but the thought of being separated from him in their most crucial moment was unbearable. Deep down, she felt an inexplicable pull—a certainty that she had to be there, though she couldn't fully understand why.

  Tom's footsteps echoed through the vast house, each step a somber reminder of the battle looming on the horizon. The both of them knew that they would be tested, but their love for each other meant only one thing. Loss would destroy them both.

---

  Under the scent of old parchment and the soft glow of candles, Albus sat in his office, eyes deep in contemplation. The myriad trinkets and enchanted objects had the room humming in latent magic. Opposite him sat a man and a woman, their black hair shared along with the look of anger and grief on their faces.

  Dumbledore studied them carefully, noting the transformation that sorrow had wrought. They had once been fervent followers of Voldemort, their zeal blinding them to the moral quagmire they had descended into. 

  "We appreciate you seeing us, Albus," Mr. Black began, his voice heavy with the weight of their confession. "After our daughter's murder, we realised the depths of our folly. We can no longer follow Voldemort and that Grindelwald girl. We see now how far we had fallen."

  Now, the loss of their daughter had shattered their allegiance, forcing them to confront the darkness they had embraced.

  Dumbledore nodded, his expression grave but understanding. "Grief can be a powerful catalyst for change. What is it that you need to tell me?"

  Mrs. Black leaned forward, her eyes pleading. "We heard whispers that you have plans to face him," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the dark lord himself might overhear. It was perilous for them to be here, having left the Death Eaters without Voldemort's notice.

  Dumbledore's face remained calm as he nodded quietly. "Yes, well, even the Ministry is slowly becoming worried by his movements and the number of people he's managed to convince."

  "And how will you defeat him?" Mr. Black asked, a hint of aggression in his voice.

  Dumbledore noticed the tone and didn't take kindly to it. "If you're here to question my methods, I suggest you leave. He was my student once. I will be able to defeat him when given the opportunity."

  "But you won't," Mrs. Black interrupted.

  There was a long silence. Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "Do you know something we do not, Mrs. Black?"

  "There is one thing that will prevent you from defeating Tom Riddle," she said, her voice steady despite the gravity of her words.

  Dumbledore's interest piqued. "And what is that?"

  "His wife." Mr. Black said bluntly.

  The headmaster's brow furrowed. "Rosalie? She will not be a problem. She will be away from the battle."

  "No," Mrs. Black interjected, her tone urgent. "You don't understand. She needs to be there, and you need to kill her—"

  "Rosalie may have killed Capella, but I assure you this is no time to be asking for revenge—"

  "Listen to me!" Mrs. Black's voice trembled with intensity. "She is Tom's Horcrux."

  Dumbledore's eyes widened, and he froze, processing the gravity of her words. The room seemed to grow colder, the flickering candlelight casting long, wavering shadows on the walls. He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly on the desk. "Are you certain of this?" he asked, his voice low and grave.

  Mrs. Black nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yes, Albus. We learned of it after our daughter died. It was the final piece that made us realise how deeply we had fallen into darkness. We could no longer support Voldemort and his ambitions."

  Mr. Black stepped forward, his expression one of resigned determination. "There is another thing you need to know. Rosalie also carries a Horcrux—a small rock that Tom keeps with him for safekeeping."

  Dumbledore felt the weight of their revelation settle heavily on his shoulders. He had known Tom had delved into the darkest forms of magic, but this was a new depth of depravity. Creating Horcruxes was one thing, but making a living person one was beyond abhorrent.

  "Rosalie is with child," Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with sorrow. "This complicates things further."

  "We understand the cost, Albus," Mrs. Black said, her voice breaking. "But we cannot allow Voldemort to continue. He must be stopped, even if it means sacrificing her."

  Dumbledore's heart ached at the thought. Rosalie, with her unborn child, was an innocent caught in a war much larger than herself. Yet, if she truly was a Horcrux, her death was the only way to ensure Voldemort's downfall. The moral quandary tore at his conscience.

  He remembered her eyes. Gellert's eyes. And he wasn't sure he could do it if it came down to it.

  "I will do what must be done," he said finally, his voice filled with masked uncertainty. The thought of having to destroy Tom's Horcrux... Rosalie, was daunting, and if he had known that there were now more than four anchoring Tom to immortality, he might have thought twice about proceeding with the plan.

  Unfortunately, the only thing he knew for certain was that Rosalie was one of Tom's Horcruxes.

  The Black's exchanged a sorrowful glance, knowing their information had only provided a fragment of the solution. They had offered Dumbledore a critical piece in the puzzle to defeat Voldemort, but the path to victory remained fraught with peril and uncertainty.

  As they left his office, Dumbledore sat in contemplative silence. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, mirroring the turmoil within his soul.

  The cost of victory would be measured in lives lost, and he knew the only thing that had brought him here was unyielding love—bloody, messy, and horrible. Tom's love for Rosalie, Rosalie's love for Tom, her love for her father, and Albus's love for the same man.

  How had such decisions led him here, contemplating the necessity of killing a girl he once thought of as a daughter? It was profoundly unfair; she was still just a girl, caught in a tragic web spun by forces far beyond her control.

  Doomed to be forever young by his own hand.

A/N

Sorry for the long wait I've been trying to quit alcohol unsuccessfully lol

hope you enjoyed the chapter and yeah just be ready to cry in the next one, dw no major character death yet