Forty Two

Tommy

  Tom's heart pounded as he found himself standing in a sunlit meadow, the grass a vivid dream that would take weeks to wash out of his memory beneath his feet. The sky overhead was a perfect blue, dotted with fluffy clouds that drifted lazily across the horizon just like in a children's storybook. The scene felt impossibly peaceful, the air crisp in his senses as he tilted his head and looked out far beyond what he could ever truly imagine.

  Because there they were. Her long blond hair, wavy and untamed in the midday breeze. Her smile so bright it compared to the suns rays hitting and warming his body. The little boy she chased after, dark and unruly hair, beautiful grey eyes just like his mothers that connected as he stared back at her. 

  Her laughter rang out like a melody, warm and full of life as she called after the boy, following him through the tall grass as he refused to go yet, refused to let the happiness of the day fade away into nothing just yet. The boy's giggles were infectious, his small legs moving as fast as they could while he glanced back at his mother with pure delight. She caught up to him, sweeping him into her arms and spinning him around, both of them laughing as if the world outside this meadow didn't exist.

  Tom watched them, his chest rising and falling tightly with emotions breaching his surface in a way he had never understood and never tried to understand. It was all so perfect, so achingly beautiful, that he knew it was too good to be true. He could feel the chill in his body when She turned around to face him, her eyes shining with a love that was unmistakable. Everything they had been through to get to this moment was worth it. Anything to be here, seeing that smile, the kind of smile that reached into the depths of his soul and made him believe, if only for a moment, that everything was going to be alright.

  The boy wriggled in his mothers arms, reaching out towards Tom with chubby hands. "Daddy!" he called out, his voice filled with innocent joy. He smiled briefly, looking at the boy who yes, brought him happiness, but his eyes always wandered back to the woman who had given him such joy. All of it was her, every single phantom crumb of his being was dedicated to this woman, and refused to take a single care for anything else.

  Tom took a step forward, his hand reaching out instinctively, yearning to be a part of this moment. He wanted to reach out for the son Rosalie had given him, perhaps he would grow to love him as he had grown to love Rosalie, the extension of themselves, The boy would be how Tom could learn self love if at all possible.

  But just as his fingers brushed against the boys, just as she looked up into his eyes as she held his son, their little family, the scene began to dissolve, the vibrant colours bleeding away like ink in water, ashy particles flying through his mind as Rosalie's smile faded, her laughter silenced, and his sons joyful cries echoed into nothingness.

  Tom bolted upright in bed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His heart hammered in his chest, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like his own shadow clung to him in the heat. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the lingering sense of loss that had settled over him. He reached for the picture in his side table, pulling it out with such desperation you might've thought it was a calming drug he was reaching for. 

  He stared at it for a moment, tracing the frame of the tattered photograph so gently. He stared at her face, at her pregnant stomach, at her smile, at her eyes that looked away from the camera. Tom wished in that moment he had told her to face her, so he right then could see her full beauty. He let her soak into his mind before placing it back, more calmly this time, into his side table. Tom shook his head and leant back against the headboard of the bed, swallowing hard as he wiped away the cold sweat.

  "Fuck," he muttered to himself, the word heavy with frustration and despair. The dream was too real, too vivid. It was like he had been there, like it had really happened. If Rosie hadn't died three years ago, if his son hadn't died three years ago, would they look like that? Would they hold the same happiness, the same warmth?

  It was everything he wanted, everything he'd been denied by this sickening thing people called life. It was too good to be true.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, pulling the sheets to cover his bareness. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled one out and lit it, the familiar burn of nicotine grounding him in the harsh reality of the moment, he took a deep inhale, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling as he tried to push the dream from his mind.

  As the haze of sleep lifted, Tom became aware of the other presence in the room. He glanced over to see the woman from last night still lying next to him, her body half-covered by the sheets. She was still asleep, her dark hair splayed out across the pillow, her face peaceful in the dim light of the morning.

  "Shit," Tom muttered under his breath, his irritation growing. He hadn't even remembered her being there. 

  He took another breath from his cigarette before nudging her shoulder begrudgingly with the back of his hand like she hadn't showered in months. 

  "You slept here?" He asked, his tone flat, devoid of any real interest.

  The woman stirred, blinking sleepily as she turned towards him. "Yeah," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "You were—"

  "Get out," Tom cut her off, his voice cold and detached. "Now."

  She looked at him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise, but she didn't argue. The harshness in his tone left no room for discussion. She gathered her clothes from the floor, dressing quickly without a word. Tom watched her through the haze of smoke, feeling nothing as she quietly slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

  He had left the chateau a long time ago now. It was no longer her home therefore it was no longer his. For the past couple years he had taken over Ben's residence, caring not how he felt about it. 

  He sat there in the silence, the dream still gnawing at the edges of his mind. The taste of it lingered, bittersweet and haunting. His son's laughter, Rosalie's smile—things he could never have, things he didn't deserve. The cigarette burned down to the filter, and Tom crushed it out in the ashtray, the embers dying with a final, flickering glow.

  He leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of the dream pressing down on him. It was a cruel reminder of what could have been, what was lost. And no amount of cigarettes or fleeting company could fill the void left by that loss.

---

  The meadow was alive with the sounds of nature—the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze, the distant chirping of birds, and the soft laughter of a young boy playing among the wildflowers. Tommy, with his dark, unruly hair and bright eyes, ran through the tall grass, his small hands reaching out to brush against the flowers as he went. He was full of energy, a bundle of curiosity and innocence.

  Rosalie sat on a blanket nearby, watching her son with a bittersweet smile. The sun was warm on her face, and for a moment, she let herself bask in the simple pleasure of being there, in that moment, with Tommy. But no matter how beautiful the day, there was always an undercurrent of sadness, a void that could never be filled.

  "Mummy, look!" Tommy called out, holding up a daisy he had plucked from the ground. He ran over to her, his eyes wide with excitement. "It's so pretty!"

  Rosalie took the flower from him, her heart swelling with love and an aching sorrow. "It's beautiful, sweetheart," she said, gently tucking the daisy behind his ear. "Just like you."

  Tommy beamed at the compliment, his smile so much like Tom's that it nearly took her breath away. Every time she looked at him, she saw his father—his expressions, his mannerisms, even the way he moved. It was as if Tom lived on in their son, a constant reminder of what she had lost.

  Tommy plopped down beside her, his small body leaning against hers in a comforting way only a mother could hold their child. "Mummy, do I have a Daddy like the other kids?"

  The question hit Rosalie like a punch to the gut. She had known it would come one day, but she wasn't ready. How could she ever be ready to explain to her son the truth of his father's absence? She swallowed the lump in her throat and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

  "Your daddy was a very special man, Tommy," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "He loved you so much, even before you were born. But... he had to go away."

  "Where did he go?" Tommy asked, his voice filled with innocent curiosity. "Will he come back?"Rosalie felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She had always tried to be strong for Tommy, to give him the best life she could despite everything. But this was the one question she didn't have an easy answer for.

  "He'll come back, soon." she said softly, her voice breaking through the lie. "He's... he's gone to a place where we can't follow right now. But he's always with us, in our hearts."

  Tommy was quiet for a moment, processing her words. "Like a star in the sky?" he asked finally.Rosalie nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks. "Yes, just like a star. He's watching over us, making sure we're safe."

  Tommy looked up at her, his big eyes filled with concern. "Don't cry, Mummy. Daddy wouldn't want you to be sad."

  Rosalie choked back a sob, pulling his small frame into a tight embrace. "I know, baby. I know." She held him close, letting the tears flow freely now, each one a release of the pain she had been holding onto for so long.

  Tommy pulled back slightly, his small hand reaching up to wipe away her tears. "It's okay, Mummy. I'm here."

  Rosalie smiled through her tears, her heart aching with love for this little boy who was wise beyond his years. "And I'm so glad you are, Tommy," she whispered, kissing the top of his head. "You're my everything."

  They sat there in the meadow, wrapped in each other's warmth, the world around them fading away. For a moment, it was just the two of them—Rosalie and Tommy—bound by a love that transcended the pain of loss. But even as she held her son, Rosie couldn't help but feel the weight of the emptiness left by Tom's absence, a wound that time could never fully heal.

  As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the meadow, Tommy looked up at her again. "Mummy, can you tell me more about Daddy? What was he like?"

  Rosalie took a deep breath, her mind flooding with memories of Tom. His smile, his strength, the way he had always made her feel safe, even in the darkest of times. "Your daddy was brave," she began, her voice soft but steady. "He wasn't always kind, but he learnt how to be, he would do anything to protect us."

  Tommy listened intently, his eyes wide with fascination. "Did he fight bad guys like a hero?"

  Rosalie smiled, chuckling slightly at the light irony, her heart aching with the bittersweetness of it all. "No, honey. Your daddy... He did bad things, and I knew it. I learnt to love the good with the bad because he had also learnt to love. He learnt to protect something that wasn't himself." 

  Tommy's face lit up with a sadistic pride that even his own mother was oblivious to. "I'll be a protector just like him one day."

  Rosalie's smile faltered for a moment as the pain of Tom's loss washed over her once more. She wished more than anything that Tom could be there to see their son, to watch him grow up, to be the father she knew he could become if he just tried. But that was a wish that could never come true.

  "You already are, my love," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You already are."

  As they sat together in the fading light, Rosalie felt a small measure of peace settle over her. It wasn't much, and it didn't erase the pain, but it was something. Tommy was her anchor, the reason she kept going despite the crushing weight of grief. And as long as she had him, she knew she could keep Tom's memory alive, even if it was just in the stories she told their son.

---

  Tommy's small hands gripped the ropes of the swing as he kicked his legs with joyful abandon, the sun hid behind greying clouds by the time Rosalie came to pick him up from the muggle kindergarten he attended in town. She opened and closed the dark green iron gate behind her and walked in, waving loudly to Tommy when she saw him enjoying himself. He waved back and remained seated, having much too much fun to leave just yet.

  Rosalie walked briskly past the sandpit, her eyes briefly catching the sight of children playing, their laughter filling the air. She barely registered the carefree scene as she headed toward the wooden building where the daycare staff could usually be found. The sun was warm on her back, but her mind was elsewhere, racing with thoughts she couldn't quiet. She pushed open the door, slipping inside just as a group of children ran past her, their excited chatter echoing in the hallway.

  Once inside, she made her way to the reception desk, her fingers tapping nervously on the polished wood. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for someone—anyone—who could assist her. But the room was empty, save for the faint sound of distant voices.

  "Hello," a voice greeted her from behind.

  Rosalie turned around quickly, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes met those of a man standing a few feet away. He was taller than her, with a thick beard and a kind face. His accent, she noted, had the familiar lilt of someone from the outer areas of Sussex.

  "Hi," she replied, her tone cautious. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to know this man, and her mind raced, trying to place him.

  The man hesitated for a moment, his expression flickering with something like surprise. Then, with a slightly awkward movement, he extended his hand toward her. "Sorry, I beg your pardon. I'm Harry. My daughter Charlotte goes here. I've seen you around."

  Rosalie looked down at his outstretched hand, her instincts screaming at her to be wary. Years of living in the shadows, constantly on guard, had made her cautious. But she forced herself to take his hand, giving it a quick, hesitant shake. "Rosalie," she said, her voice flat, the name falling from her lips almost automatically.

  "And you are Miss...?" Harry asked, his attempt at small talk feeling slightly forced as he tried to keep the conversation going.

  "Mrs.," Rosalie corrected, her tone firm. "Riddle."

  Harry's eyes widened slightly in recognition, and he nodded, trying to hide his momentary shock. "Of course. Sorry, I just thought—well, I never see Tommy's dad around."

  Rosalie's heart tightened at the mention of Tom. She forced herself to maintain a neutral expression, though her mind was racing. "Yeah, um... well, I'm widowed."

  Harry's face shifted to an awkward mixture of sympathy and something else—a hint of relief, perhaps? He tried to mask it with a look of concern. "Widowed? I'm sorry to hear that."

  Rosalie nodded, her patience wearing thin. She wasn't in the mood for this conversation, especially not with a stranger. But she kept her tone polite, though clipped. "Yes. Widowed, but still... married."

  Harry's attempt at empathy faltered slightly, and he shifted awkwardly. "I'm divorced," he offered, as if trying to find some common ground.

  "How unfortunate," Rosalie responded, her tone cool. She had no intention of engaging in this conversation any further.

  Harry opened his mouth to say something else, but Rosalie cut him off, her urgency clear. "I'm sorry, I've got somewhere to be. Would you tell Terry that I picked Tommy up? Thanks, Harry."Without waiting for a response, Rosalie turned on her heel and rushed out of the door, leaving Harry standing there, his unfinished words hanging in the air. As she stepped outside, the cool breeze hit her face, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. 

  Rosalie walked over to Tommy, extending her hand as the sky darkened with brewing clouds. The wind picked up, and she silently thanked herself for remembering to bring the umbrella she so often forgot. Tommy noticed her approach and ran toward her, his small hand slipping into hers. She gently guided him away from the other children, leading him through the playground gate. The green steel clanked shut behind them, a sound that echoed in the growing gloom.

  As they began walking, Tommy glanced up at his mother's face, noticing the flustered expression she wore. "That was Charlotte's daddy you were talking to," he said, his voice innocent and curious.

  Rosalie hummed in acknowledgment, her focus more on getting them safely across the street than on Tommy's words. She looked to her right, then tightened her grip on Tommy's hand before crossing. The street was growing darker, and the cars had switched on their headlights, casting long shadows on the pavement. She glanced up, trying to gauge the time from the position of the sun, but it was already hidden behind the thick clouds. It was only four, yet it felt much later.

  "Charlotte's daddy likes you, Mummy," Tommy continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "Charlotte told me that."

  Rosalie let out a soft chuckle, more a release of tension than amusement. "You're very perceptive for someone so young, Tommy. Very straightforward, too—just like your father."

  Tommy's next question came out so innocently, yet it struck her like a blow. "Is Charlotte's daddy going to be my new daddy?"

  Rosalie stopped abruptly, pulling Tommy back as he had already taken a few steps ahead. She looked down at her son, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. Her expression, usually so controlled, wavered between horror and tragic sadness. Tommy looked up at her, his eyes wide and innocent, not understanding the exact depth of his question.

  Rosalie blinked, trying to steady her breathing. It had barely been three years since Tom's death—three years since she had last felt the warmth of his touch, since they had eagerly anticipated starting their family together. She could still vividly recall the pain of childbirth, the agony of her body tearing itself apart to bring Tommy into the world, only to be handed this tiny, fragile being and expected to love it instantly.

  But she hadn't. In those first moments, Rosalie couldn't love Tommy. When she looked into his eyes—Tom's eyes—she didn't see her son. She saw the reminder of everything she had lost. She had wanted Tom, not this helpless, crying infant who symbolised all the pain and grief of that day.

  Yet, over time, something shifted. She realised that Tommy was all she had left of Tom, the only living piece of him. And in that realisation, she began to love her son—not as a replacement for Tom, but as Tommy, in his own right. It took weeks, months, even years, but she grew to love him fiercely. And with that love came an overwhelming guilt enough.

  Rosalie sank to her knees, the first drops of rain falling lightly on her face. She grasped Tommy's small arms gently, pulling him close. "No, Tommy," she said softly, her voice trembling. "No one will ever replace your father. Do you understand?"

  Tommy stared at her, confusion in his eyes. He was too young to fully grasp the weight of her words, but he could see how serious she was.

  "Tommy, please, look at me," Rosalie pleaded, feeling the tears begin to mingle with the rain on her cheeks. "Mummy could never love anyone but you and Daddy. Do you hear me?"

  Tommy's lip quivered as he nodded, sensing the gravity of the moment despite his youth.

  Rosalie's voice broke as she continued, "I would rather not be here anymore than love anyone else. Do you understand that?"

  Tommy's eyes widened in fear. "Not be here anymore? Where would you go, Mummy?"

  She cupped his cheek with her hand, her touch gentle but firm. "I would go where Daddy is. But don't worry, Tommy. I'm not going anywhere, not as long as I have you."

  "Please don't go where Daddy is," Tommy whispered, his voice trembling.

  "I won't," Rosalie assured him, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Not as long as I have you. But you need to understand something—Daddy is everything to me. And nothing will ever change that."

  Tommy nodded again, the seriousness in his mother's voice cutting through his confusion. He could see how deeply she meant every word, how the mere thought of loving anyone other than his father had shaken her to her core.

  Rosalie held him close, the rain now falling harder, drenching them both. With a shaky breath, she reached into her bag and pulled out the umbrella, quickly opening it to shield them from the downpour. 

  The rain was enough to make the pavement slick underfoot. Rosalie pulled Tommy along again,  their coats pulled tight against the chill as they made their way home. 

  Tommy, ever curious, suddenly rushed forward, his eyes catching something fluttering in the breeze. A piece of paper, surprisingly dry despite the rain, had landed on someone's doorstep, its edges rustling as the wind teased it. He bent down, picking it up with a small gasp of excitement.

  "Mummy! The pictures are moving!" Tommy called out, his voice filled with awe as he stared at the front page.

  Rosalie's smile, tender and fleeting, faded as she approached her son. The rain pattered softly on the umbrella she held, the rhythm almost soothing, but it did nothing to calm the storm building within her. "It's moving!" Tommy repeated, waving the paper eagerly.

  The Daily Prophet in a muggle town? 

  Her heart pounded, a deeper force from within her heart told her, for some reason, to not go anywhere near it. She reached her hand out for it but pulled it back, her own mind fighting against her to look at the paper.

  Tommy looked at his mother funnily, handing the paper to her, placing it in her hand so she had no choice but to accept it and to read the words now dotted in raindrops. As she took the newspaper from Tommy's small hands. Her eyes scanned the headline.

Voldemort Successfully Seizes Over Half of the Ministry Departments—World Looks Gloomy for the Rest of the Wizarding World.

  The downpour turned into a steady rain, the drops growing heavier, but Rosalie barely noticed. A wave of dread washed over her, cold and suffocating, as the truth slammed into her like a battering ram. Tom was still alive. He had to be. The pieces began to fall into place, each revelation more painful than the last. Dumbledore—he had lied to her. He had told her that Tom was gone, that she needed to hide, to keep herself and Tommy safe. But it was all a lie. How could she have been so blind? How could she have ever believed that he would do something good for her?

  The rain soaked through her clothes, plastering her hair to her face as she stared at the words on the paper, her vision blurring with tears. The ground beneath her seemed to tilt, the weight of her realisation too much to bear. Rosalie's knees buckled, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the world spun around her. Tommy's voice became a distant echo as darkness closed in, the newspaper slipping from her trembling hands to the wet ground beside her.

  Rosalie crumpled in the rain, unconscious, as the drops fell harder, mingling with the tears that had begun to fall even before she hit the ground.

A/N

heyyyyy, hope you guys enjoy the new chapter, might be a few more than I originally thought was just doing some re-planning but still really 5-6 chapters if that till the end. I'll see. It's a bit of a short one, so sorry, more of a filler, getting to know tommy and how Rosalie feels about him which I think is important for the rest of the story.

I just want to put it out there that Tom and Rosalie aren't particularly good parents. I mean Rosalie tries and I won't spoil it for Tom but.... yeah ig you'll see.

so um on the sober note 💪 I might've accidentally relapsed gone to a party and drunk an entire litre of smirnoff till I projectile vomited in the bathroom (Not fun). I def write better after a drink though. I honestly don't know what to do with myself I feel like the whole almost dying should've been a wakeup call but maybe its my destiny to be an alcoholic the same way its Rosalie's destiny to find tom and live happily ever after (not) HAHA TOTALLY NOT SPOILERS....

bye guys love u.