Forty Five

The Family

  The early morning sun cast a golden glow over the small French town, its narrow cobbled streets and quaint market stalls coming to life with the bustle of muggle life. Tom moved through the market with a purposeful stride, his dark robes a stark contrast against the vibrant hues of fresh produce and colourful fabrics. He had wandered these streets countless times, but today, every corner held a glimmer of hope. The news that Rosalie might still be alive had driven him to this town, where their past seemed almost tangible amidst the lively chaos.

  The air was rich with the aroma of baked goods, mingling with the scent of freshly cut flowers. Children darted between stalls, their laughter ringing out like music, while vendors called out their wares with cheerful insistence. Tom's eyes, however, were scanning the faces in the crowd, searching for any sign of Rosalie.

  His mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. The grief of her presumed death had gnawed at him for years, a constant ache that had never fully healed. The thought of her being alive was both exhilarating and tormenting. Each day since the news had felt like a desperate chase, a race against the past and his own haunting memories.

  As he passed a stall laden with ripe peaches, a voice cut through the market's clamour, sweet and familiar. "Tommy!" The voice was unmistakably Rosalie's, tender and filled with the warmth that Tom had longed to hear. It was as though a beacon had been lit, guiding him through the fog of his doubts.

  Tom spun around, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hardly believe his ears. He scanned the crowd, his eyes wide with hope and disbelief. Then he caught a glimpse of dark blonde hair, braided loosely and tied with a blue ribbon. It moved swiftly around a corner, and without a second thought, Tom plunged into the crowd, shoving past startled shoppers and nearly toppling a vendor's stand.

  His breath came in ragged gasps as he rounded the corner, just catching sight of the woman's red ribbon tied around her wrist. His pulse raced with a mixture of panic and exhilaration. He felt as though he were chasing a dream, his heart torn between hope and the fear of another cruel illusion.

  Tom pushed through the outer edges of the town, the familiar landscape of trees and winding roads guiding him toward the chateau. The forest was dense and shadowed, a stark contrast to the vibrant market. The sounds of the town faded, replaced by the whisper of leaves and the occasional call of a bird. His steps quickened as he neared the chateau, the once-familiar sight now a symbol of both his greatest joy and deepest sorrow.

  As he emerged from the forest, his gaze fell upon the chateau. It was as majestic as he remembered, its stone façade bathed in the soft morning light. Tom's eyes fell upon the figure at the base of the grassy pathway. Rosalie stood there, her profile illuminated by the sun. She was looking out toward the lake, her hat held loosely in her hand, a blue ribbon fluttering in the breeze. The sight of her—so vivid, so real—was almost too much to bear.

  Beside her, a small boy with a mop of dark hair skipped along the pathway. Tom's heart clenched as he watched Rosalie take in the scene, her gaze soft and affectionate. The boy's laughter was a melody that Tom had yearned to hear again. It was their son. He could tell it from here because he looked exactly like him.

  Tom's voice broke the silence, trembling with emotion. "Rosie..."

  She turned sharply, her face going pale as she recognised him. Her hat slipped from her fingers, falling to the ground. The world seemed to pause as Tom ran toward her, his steps hurried and desperate. He reached her and pulled her into his arms, his touch both urgent and reverent. The warmth of her body, the softness of her hair, and the scent of her—Merlin the scent of her... everything was so familiar, yet so painfully out of reach.

  Tom's hands gripped her tightly, as though afraid she might vanish if he let go. Rosalie's arms wrapped around him, her sobs muffled against his chest. The weight of their reunion was overwhelming. He could feel the delicate locket she wore, the one he had given her all those years ago, pressing against him.

  "It's alright, darling," Tom murmured, his voice trembling with a mix of relief and anguish. "I'm here."

  Their kiss was a slow, searching connection, a desperate attempt to bridge the eclipse of years and pain. Tom held her close, his heart aching with a blend of joy and sorrow. His heart wondering how it was possible to feel both. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "How—how is this possible? I saw you die. I saw myself kill- I saw it with my own eyes."

  Rosalie's tears continued to fall as she held his hands to her face. "Oh, Tom," she wiped his cheek, an instinct she had now with Tommy. She shook her head fervently, her chin wobbling as she took in his features. He had aged, she saw it in his eyes, he looked gaunter and more devoid of life but still the charmingly beautiful man she had fell in love with.

  "You didn't kill me. I don't know how—you did it, and I don't care. I'm still here. We're still—"

  Tom's voice cracked with a deep, raw emotion. "Why didn't you come back?" The undertone of vulnerability in his voice was foreign still to Rosie, but she could see it in his face that he was afraid of her leaving him again. "Was it because you thought I- tried to hurt you?"

  "No," Rosalie shook her head, her voice breaking. "Of course not. If I had known—you were alive—I thought you were dead too. Dumbledore said Daniel had killed you. He showed me proof. I was alone, and he—" She choked on her own breath, the only thing in the world at that moment was the two of them, and neither hearts could handle it. 

  Tom gently shushed her, his hands moving soothingly through her hair. "It's okay. It's okay."They sank to their knees together, the weight of their reunion pressing down on them. "The entire world thought you had died," Tom said softly, his voice laden with sorrow.

  Rosalie's gaze met Tom's, and in that look, he saw the weight of her pain and regret. Her eyes were pools of sorrow, shimmering with unspoken apologies. "His plan actually worked. I let his plan work," she said, her voice trembling with a deep, unresolved guilt. "I'm sorry, Tom."

  The words hung heavy in the air, laden with the intensity of the years they had spent apart. Tom's heart ached at the sight of her distress. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said firmly, though his voice was a tapestry of reassurance and sorrow. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

  The weight of the past hung between them, and Tom hesitated, searching for the right words. "Have you read anything about me in the papers?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Rosalie's eyes darkened, a flicker of distress crossing her face. She took a deep breath, her shoulders tensing. "Yes, I have," she admitted. "I know you've—done things." Her voice was strained, the words barely concealing the deep hurt she felt. She had seen the daily reports of Death Eaters' raids and killings, her heart sinking with each grim headline. But beneath the surface of her quiet anger and betrayal, there was an understanding that their love had left its mark on her, even amidst the horror.

  Tom's expression grew somber, his heart heavy with the burden of his confessions. "It wasn't just that," he continued, his words slow and deliberate. "I—I slept with other women while I thought you were gone. I was lost, Rosalie. I thought I'd lost you forever." He looked deeply into her eyes, searching for any sign of forgiveness, wanting her to understand the full depth of his regret. Each word felt like a painful extraction, but he needed her to know every hurtful truth, that no stone was left unturned.

  Rosalie's gaze softened, though her sadness remained. She bit her lip, her face a tapestry of kindness and pain. Despite her forgiving nature, she understood Tom's actions and the truth behind his eyes. She knew that, for him, she had always been the anchor, the one he could never fully let go of.

  "It's okay, my love," she said softly, her voice soothing despite the sorrow. "To you, I was gone."

  Tom shook his head, unable to wrap his head around how something could be so easily forgiven. "Aren't you ashamed of me? Ashamed of what I've done and who I became without you? I betrayed you. The women in my bed Rosie, they weren't you."

  "Like I said. I was gone. I left you alone. It's no fault of yours trying to mend the hole I left." She looked at him, her head tilted down, her hands on her lap as she hoped for him to understand.

  "But you were able to stay—alone," Tom said, his voice trembling with regret and yearning for understanding. He struggled to grasp how she had managed to survive, to hold onto a piece of him while enduring the agony of his presumed death.

  Rosalie smiled through her tears, recognising his struggle to express his feelings. She reached up, her hand gently caressing his cheek. "I wasn't alone," she said, her voice tender and comforting. "I had Tommy. I had a part of you, even if it was tiny, that I could hold on to."

  Tom's eyes glistened with a mix of relief and tears. "Tommy?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "So that's his name?"

  Rosalie laughed softly through her tears, nodding. "I thought you'd like it," she said, her voice filled with a gentle warmth. "I wasn't sure, but it felt right."

  Tom pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and filled with longing. "I don't know how you did it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "How you lived with Tommy, with a constant reminder of me when you thought I was dead. I don't think I could have borne it."

  Rosalie's hand continued to caress his face, her touch soothing and full of love. "It's okay," she said gently, and he brought her closer to him. "It's okay. You won't have to do what I did." 

  Tom's heart ached with anticipation as he looked up, his eyes searching hers. "Where is he? I have to see him."

  Rosalie's eyes softened as she looked toward the pathway. "He's just..." she began, her voice filled with a mixture of joy and nervous excitement.

  As if on cue, Tommy peeked around from behind his mother, his small face illuminated by a curious smile. The sight of his son, the final piece of his shattered world now fitting back into place, made Tom's heart swell with overwhelming emotion. The reunion was complete, and the long-lost pieces of their family were finally coming together.

  Tom's heart pounded as he watched Tommy peeking around Rosalie, his innocent face lighting up with a curious, wide-eyed expression. The child's gaze was direct and filled with wonder. "Excuse me, Mister, why are you hugging my mummy?" Tommy asked, his voice small but unwavering.

  Tom felt his own eyes lock onto the boy's, and for a moment, it was as if he was looking into a mirror. The resemblance was striking—Tommy's features were a mirror of his own, and the sight sent a shiver down Tom's spine. The realisation that this child was, in every sense, a part of him, was both exhilarating and overwhelming.

  Rosalie knelt beside her son, her hands gently holding his small, chubby fingers. Her touch was tender as she replied, "It's what people do when they haven't seen each other in a long time, my sweet." She pinched Tommy's cheek playfully, her eyes filled with a warmth that made Tom's heart ache. Watching her with their son stirred a deep, yearning emotion within him—a desire to build a future together and to have more children. The sight of Rosalie so lovingly interacting with Tommy made him fall in love with her all over again.

  Tommy's innocent voice broke through his reverie. "Does that mean you missed him too, Mummy?"

  Rosalie nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Yes, of course I did."

  Tommy then looked up at Tom, his expression serious. "Don't you go stealing my Mummy, Mister! She said that Daddy would be back one day and only he would be my only Daddy!"

  Tom glanced at Rosalie, who looked slightly embarrassed but was trying to maintain her composure. Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of guilt and amusement.

  Rosalie gently lifted Tommy onto her hip, though the boy was almost too big for her small frame. She walked past Tom, who followed her closely, still grappling with the surreal nature of their reunion. As they entered the house, Rosalie directed Tommy to his room, urging him to go play with his toys. She kept her gaze averted as she watched him toddle down the hall, his tiny footsteps echoing softly.

  Tom seized the moment as soon as Tommy was out of sight. He moved towards Rosalie with a sense of urgency, unable to restrain his longing. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close. "I can't believe it," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "He's... you're..." He hugged her tightly, his fear of losing her again palpable. Rosalie turned in his embrace, her face looking up at him with a mixture of relief and sadness.

  "It took you a while to find us," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly as she swallowed hard, trying to steady herself.

  Tom's brow furrowed with concern, his mind racing. "Do you think he knows who I am? What did you... tell him about me?" His voice was threaded with worry, seeking reassurance in the face of his own uncertainty.

  "I told him you needed some time to find us," Rosalie said, her hand resting gently on his chest as if to ground both of them in this fragile moment. "We can... tell him now if you want."

  Tom leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her neck, his lips brushing against her skin with an intensity that spoke of years of longing. "Not now. Later," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.

  Rosalie let out a small, amused scoff as Tom spoke. "He looks exactly like me," Tom said, his eyes filled with awe.

  "I know," Rosalie replied, a trace of humour in her voice despite the sadness. "It's annoying, seeing as I was the one who carried him for nine months. He was quite a pain to birth."

  Tom fell silent, a wave of guilt washing over him. He followed Rosalie as she moved towards the kitchen, her movements graceful despite the burden of their past. As she pulled away from him, he whispered a string of apologies against her neck, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone."

  Rosalie's touch was tender as she caressed his face, her fingers brushing away the lingering regrets. "It's okay," she said soothingly, her voice a balm for his wounded heart. "It's okay. You're here now." They engaged in a playful game of cat and mouse, Tom eventually pinning her against the kitchen counter with a sense of both relief and renewed passion.

  "I'll be there next time," Tom promised, his voice earnest. "I swear."

  Rosalie laughed softly, a lighthearted sound that belied the depth of her emotions. She playfully pushed him away, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Slow down there," she teased.

  Tom grinned, his eyes alight with a mix of affection and desire. "Not a chance," he muttered.

  Tom pulled away suddenly, looking through the depths of her eyes.

  "You never moved on? Never?" Tom asked, his voice tinged with wonder.

  Rosalie shook her head, her eyes reflecting a love that had endured despite everything. "How could I?"

  Tom's guilt was slowly replaced with a profound sense of relief and joy. "You're mine. You've always been mine. Even in death, you were always mine."

  Rosalie's eyes softened with a blend of love and sadness. "Does this mean we're coming back with you?"

  "No," Tom said firmly, shaking his head. "We're staying here. This is our home. But I still can't believe you named him Tommy."

  Rosalie's smile was bittersweet as she processed Tom's words.

  "He looked like his father," She said with a shrug, a touch of pride in her voice. "I thought he should be named after him too."

  Tom's gaze softened, his eyes filled with admiration. "Seeing you raise my child is one of the most attractive things I've ever witnessed. I need you as my wife again. Tommy needs his father and deserves siblings."

  "Siblings? We've barely been reunited for five minutes," Rosalie protested, though her tone was light-hearted.

  "And separated for three years," Tom reminded her gently. "You and Tommy are going to live better lives with me. The life I promised you all those years ago. I swear to it, darling."

  Rosalie's heart swelled with love and determination as Tom spoke, her resolve firm in the face of their shared future.

  Tom's voice was strained, heavy with emotion. "I can no longer live without you." He pushed himself against her, guiding Rosalie back until she was completely pressed against the kitchen counter. His hand rested possessively on her hip, his fingers gripping tightly as he gazed down at her. Rosalie's eyes darted between his mouth and his eyes, her breath quickening.

  "Are you going to kiss me?" she asked, her voice a whisper filled with longing.

  Tom's face softened with a loving, cocky grin. "Is that what you want, love? Do you want me to kiss you?"

  "Are you going to make me beg?" Rosalie teased, her tone light but filled with anticipation. Tom remained silent, lost in the sight of his wife, unable to believe this moment was real.

  "Please, Tom. Kiss me."

  That was all he needed. He pinned her firmly against the counter, his grip on her hips so intense it would surely leave marks. Leaning over her, his mouth hovered just inches from hers. His voice was a deep, commanding murmur. "Say that again... just one more time."

  "Tom... please."

  With a groan of desperation, Tom's lips crashed onto Rosalie's. The kiss was fierce and demanding, as if he had been starved for years. As he deepened the kiss, his leg found its way between hers, pressing her closer to him. The heat of their connection overwhelmed him, driving him to reclaim what they had lost.

  Tom's mouth moved against hers, his tongue tracing the outline of her bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore further. Rosalie opened her mouth, granting him access, and his kiss became a fervent exploration. His touch was a mix of need and reverence, each caress a testament to his years of longing. It was ecstasy to have her back in his arms.

  As she leaned back, Tom spun her around, positioning her so her back was flush against his chest. He placed one hand on her stomach and the other on her throat, holding her firmly against him. His movements were desperate, his need for closeness palpable. He ground himself against her, seeking to feel every part of her.

  Rosalie acted quickly, pulling up her dress with a sense of urgency. Tom's breath hitched as he watched her, his desire igniting at the sight. He bent her over the counter, gripping her hips with a possessiveness that bordered on primal. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against her ear, his voice a needy murmur. "You want this? You want me, Rosie?"

  "Yes... please, yes," she begged, her voice a soft plea.

  Tom's hands roamed up her body, from her hips to her shoulders, his grip tight as if to anchor her in place. "You have no idea how much I've dreamed of touching you again," he continued, his touch reverent as he traced her skin.

  Rosalie's head fell forward, resting on the counter as Tom's restraint broke. He pushed against her slowly, each movement deliberate, savouring the sensation of being reunited with her. Her groans of desire fuelled his desire.

  "You have no idea how much I'd dreamed that I would be able to touch you again.." He continued to run his hands all over her as Rosie let her head fall forward, dropping it down to the counter. His restraint broke as soon as he heard the noises he pulled from her with each tough. He pushed himself against her, his mouth at her ear.

  "Are you going to let me take you right here? Right on this counter?"

  Rosalie nodded quickly, Toms hand snaking between her bare stomach from her pushed up dress and the counter. He used one of his hands to reach down and unzip his pants, his voice was low and needy as he spoke.

  "Yeah? You're going to let me have you?"

  Rosie mumbled under her breath "Yes..." 

  Tom slowly pulled her panties down to her ankles, leaving her completely exposed in front of him. Tom groaned at the sight of her, her, his wife, his love, his everything, bent over like that, waiting for him. He ran his hand down her back slowly, from her shoulders to her hips, his hand gently caressing her skin. "You're just... so beautiful. Even still."

  Rosalie brought her head back and reached back to touch his cock. Tom groaned as she touched him, the feeling immediately moving through his body like the very blood he was. Tom watched Rosalie pushed herself up slightly for a better angle, and seeing her like that, bent over the counter for him was a sight that he had only dreamed of since losing her.

  He gripped at her hips and aligned himself, teasing her wet needy folds which sent her into an immediate frenzy. He rubbed his tip against her and felt himself losing control of his very being; wanted to dive into her immediately, to feel the warmth of his wife around him at that moment, but he took his time. 

  His touch grew more intense, driven by a mix of longing and desperation. He felt an urgent need to reclaim what they had lost, to make up for the years of separation. So he slowly pushed in, earning a needy moan from Rosalie as he grabbed under her stomach and pulled her against him. 

  Tom pushed in further, deepening the connection as he felt every part of him come alive again. This was what it felt like to be consumed by the person you loved most. It was beautiful, it was terrifying, and it was bliss. 

  He felt every part of her come alive with each thrust, the connection between them profound and all-consuming. The feeling of being with her again was both beautiful and terrifying, a mix of raw passion and overwhelming emotion.

  Rosalie, propped on her elbows, looked back at him with a mixture of need and affection. Tom grabbed her face, kissing her deeply as he pulled out slowly, his movements careful yet intense. He could feel her body gripping him, urging him to stay where he belonged.

  Tom's thrusts grew faster, more urgent, as he reclaimed her entirely. The scent of her, the sight of her, consumed his senses. Rosalie's hands gripped his head, her body arching in a way that drove him wild. This was his woman, his eternal bond, and no one else could ever make him feel this way.

  Tom thrust into her relentlessly until she was a trembling mess against the counter, her legs giving way. He held her up with a force that was both protective and passionate. As he felt himself nearing his climax, he leaned into her ear, his voice a low, fervent whisper. "Do you want to come for me, love?"

  Rosalie's eyes were closed, her body pushed to the limit with every push he gave her, she bit her lip, managing to pull out a slur of words, "Yeah.. yes.. please."

  Tom's hand slid between them, finding her core and making her shudder. His touch was gentle yet torturous, pushing her closer to the edge. 

  "You sound so pretty Rosie... Let me hear you finish." He held himself together, barely, touching her softly, gently to the point where it became torturous. And then he felt it, the shake in her legs, the way she clenched down on him as she was drawn over the edge. As her body began to convulse with the intensity of her orgasm, Tom's own release followed.

  The feeling of her releasing herself on him had his stomach pulled into knots, he could feel himself pulsing inside of her. His hand folded down onto of Rosalies, his fingers gripping down on her hand as he pushed in deeper, a few last, maddening pounds into her and he could feel his release flowing into her.

  He held her close, his hands exploring her body as her breathing slowed. He trailed kisses down her neck and shoulder, savouring the last moments of their shared ecstasy. Only when he was certain every drop had reached her did he pull out, taking one last deep breath as he held her in his arms, both of them lost in the aftermath of their reunion.

---

  The kitchen was awash with soft, golden light as Tom and Rosalie stood amidst the aftermath of their passionate reunion. Their breaths were heavy, mingling in the still air, and their faces glowed with the afterglow of rediscovered intimacy. Tom's gaze lingered on Rosalie, his eyes tracing the curves of her face, his heart swelling with a fierce love that had only grown during their separation.

  As he looked at her, Tom's eyes fell on the simple gold band adorning her left hand—the wedding ring he had once given her. It had weathered the years apart, only assuring the length of their enduring bond. A rush of tenderness overwhelmed him. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her ring finger. 

  The long, silent, and scared breath he took after that only made Rosalie smile.

  She reached for his hand, their fingers intertwining with a natural ease that spoke of years shared and promises made. Together, they tidied themselves up, Tom helping Rosie dress quickly, each touch and glance between them something new in their history.

  Hand in hand, they made their way to Tommy's room, where he waited. Rosalie guided Tom into the room, his son's innocent curiosity piqued by the new presence in his life. Tom's heart leapt at the sight of the boy, a miniature reflection of himself.

  "Hello again," Tom said, swallowing, his voice warm and inviting, a smile spreading across his face.

  Tommy looked up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. "Hello," he replied, his voice tinged with the unsure wonder of a young child meeting someone new.

  "So, are you Mummy's friend?" Tommy asked, his innocence evident in his wide-eyed gaze.

  Tom smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes, I'm Mummy's special friend." He paused, his heart racing as he considered how to frame the next words. "Actually, Tommy, there was something I wanted to tell you."

  "Okay," Tommy responded, his attention fully focused on Tom.

  Tom took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. "You see, Mummy and I—well, we made you together."

  Rosalie, standing beside Tom, shook her head slightly and hit his shoulder, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Tom, he doesn't need to know that right now. He's only three. You can save the birds and the bees talk for later."

  Tom huffed softly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "I missed hearing my name on your tongue," he said, his voice low and teasing.

  Rosalie waved him away with a mock scowl. "Anyway, Tommy," she said, turning her attention back to their son, "what he is trying to say is—"

  "Are you my Daddy?" Tommy interjected, his perceptiveness shining through the simplicity of his question.

  Tom's eyes glistened with emotion as he nodded. "Yes—yes, I am. And I'm sorry that I've been away for so long. I thought about you all the time."

  Tommy's face lit up with a bright, joyful smile, and he ran to Tom, wrapping his small arms around him in a heartfelt hug. 

  Tom grabbed the small child back, feeling a foreign, and honestly quite terrifying emotion assemble inside of him, "How did you know who I was?" he asked lightly.

  "Mummy never lets any men hug her, not even Charlotte's Daddy" Tommy explained, a hint of pride in his voice. "She does that because she told me that otherwise, Daddy would get very upset with those men."

  "So, should I get upset with men who try to hug Mummy too?" Tommy asked, his innocent question drawing a chuckle from Tom.

  "Yes," Tom said with a grin.

  "No!" Rosalie interjected sharply, playfully shoving Tom's shoulder. "You can't say that to him!"

  Tom looked at Rosalie with mock innocence. "Why not? I'm teaching him proper manners."

  Rosalie rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "There are some things you actually just can't say to children. You're lucky I'm still in love with you, but no more of that crap," she said, pulling his torso closer to her as she leant down for a tender kiss on his cheek. 

  Tom's laughter was cut short as Tommy, with wide eyes, mimicked a phrase he'd picked up. "Crap!" he said, his voice full of curiosity.

  "Whose the bad parent now?" Tom teased, a playful glint in his eye. He pulled Rosalie down onto his lap, and she let out a surprised yelp as he captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

  Their kiss was intense, filled with the years apart and the joy of their reunion. In that moment, their world seemed to shrink to the warmth of their embrace and the presence of their son. Everything felt right—right in a way it hadn't for so long. The love they had fought so hard to reclaim enveloped them, making all their struggles seem worthwhile.

  But as Tom finally let go of her, Rosalie felt an unexpected rush of air leave her lungs. She stood up, bending over against the wall as a coughing fit took over. Tom's attention shifted from their son to his wife, concern etched deeply into his features. He stood immediately, his hands gently supporting her as he looked at her with worry.

  "I'm fine," Rosalie managed between coughs. She waved him away, trying to reassure him despite her discomfort.

  "Go learn some things about your son," she said, her voice strained but determined. "I just need a glass of water."

  Tom's concern didn't ease. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed into a concerned line. "Are you sure? Let me get you a drink."

  Rosalie offered him a small, reassuring smile. "Tom, I'm fine. Be with your son." She leaned in for a quick, tender kiss before leaving the room, her steps deliberately light as she tried to suppress the cough.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Rosalie leaned heavily against the wall, her hand clutching her chest as a sharp pain seared through her. She winced, the sting spreading as she pressed her teeth together to stifle a cry. Her eyes flickered to her itching forearm, and she suddenly remembered the curse Dumbledore had placed on her.

  With trembling fingers, she lifted her sleeve to inspect the mark. The rose-shaped curse, once a faint white, had turned a vivid shade of pink. Rosalie's face drained of colour as the realisation hit her: the curse never left her.

A/N

BOOYAH WHO'S YOUR FAVOURITE AUTHOR WHO PUMPED OUT 2 CHAPTERS IN THE SPAN OF 6 HOURS? that would be me... any other answer was incorrect...

Soo I lied on my profile I'm now estimating THREE more chapters from this one till the end of the story... Scary!!

I might wait until I've written all 3 chapters till I post them though for the full effect, so depending on how I go with it I literally might not have another A/N until the finale... wtf. Thank you guys for reading my shit, love you all.

also please comment i literally love reading comments