Seven

Alliance

The crowds surrounding the Quidditch field hummed with anticipation as the game played on. Slytherin was facing off Hufflepuff, and for all that Rosalie tuned into the game, it was a rather thrilling match.

The vibrant colours of the teams clashed against the blue backdrop of the sky, not a cloud in sight. It was the perfect day to view a game like quidditch, but Rosalie was disinterested, her head resting on her arm as she leant forward on the bench she sat, staring off into the distance.

Echoing through the air was the excitement of the students, Slytherin passed and scored, leading them 4-1, each house supported their own fiercely.

In the midst of it all, Rose sat at the very back of the stands, which was a deliberate choice to distance herself from the roaring crowds. She really never had taken much of a liking to Quidditch.

She was a lone figure in a sea of spectators, but somehow, Tom had found her just fine. He ascended the stands and settled closely beside her, not taking a moment to look at her. Rose took her sight away from the game, not having paid much attention to it anyway, and instead looked at Riddle.

The tight feeling in her throat returned, a chill on her spine at his close proximity to her. Her body told her to get away, to leave in fear of him cursing her again. She disobeyed it and kept looking with intrigue; had her plan worked?

"Why help me?" Tom's question cut through the ambient noise, his sharp and sudden gaze fixed on Rose. His inquiry was a challenge, hanging in the air, and it demanded an explanation.

Rosalie swallowed. It had worked.

"Do I need a reason?" Her tongue spoke fast for her, Rose's tone was as inexplicable as the expression on her face.

Tom didn't trust himself to make out if she was lying or telling the truth anymore, he found himself, to his annoyance, relying on his gut feeling. No woman, or man for that matter, had caused him to ever do this.

"Yes," Tom asserted quickly, his insistence on the matter echoed in the space between them.

Rose's mind swirled with contemplation. The rather synchronised quidditch chants blended with her thoughts.

Finally, breaking the silence, she said, "I'm done doing what everyone else wants. I want to live my own life for a change." The words were raw in her throat, and Tom could say, without a doubt, that that was no lie. He found himself listening more intently as she continued to speak.

"I can admire the way you can live for yourself. I think I have something to learn from you, Riddle." Rose looked away from him quickly, in an embarrassed rush she had managed to incorporate her real feelings on the matter.

The harsh truth of it was that Rosalie did admire Tom. He lived his life how he wanted, even if he filled it with dark and cynical things.

Her words lingered, punctuating the air with unspoken implications. Despite her admiration for Tom's sense of freedom, there was always to be a small amount of distain that churned beneath that. The darkness of the magic he wanted weighed heavily on her mind- along with the lives at stake because of it.

All Tom could do was nod, acknowledging her response, a silent acknowledgement of the shared understanding between them, or what he thought was. Without uttering another word he rose from his seat, leaving Rosalie alone with her thoughts.

She had done it, Tom was really considering it. But it stumped her as to what she was meant to do next.

As the Quidditch match continued below, the stands became a stage for a different kind of game, one of internal suffering and false alliances, unpredictable and riddled with uncertainty.

---

The moon shone through the water of the Black Lake and into the girl's dormitory. It cast a silvery glow that spilled into the room. Lying in her bed, Rosalie stared out of the window, her eyesight occasionally falling over Lily's sleeping face on the bed in front of her.

Slytherin had won the game by a long shot, and as it turned out, Lily and William were quite the celebrators. Rosalie couldn't remember how many pints of beer she had had at the Three Broomsticks, but it was enough for her to pass out like a light the minute she got home from Hogsmeade after the celebration.

The weight of the short conversation she had with Tom earlier still hung in her head, circling like a tempest. Tom was on the cusp of wielding dark magic that he couldn't come back from, it stung heavily on her conscience.

Conflicting loyalties in her head confused her. Should she have loyalty to her father, a man soaked in the shadows of a world he wanted to make unfair and covered in darkness for all but pure-bloods? It seemed unthinkable, but her brain tugged at her sense of duty. Should she unveil the threat that Tom posed?

The consequences of that played out in her mind- her father's instructions to eliminate the threat, or worse yet, the attempt to recruit Tom into his ranks. She knew that would be something Tom would refuse, and that left only one option that Rosalie wouldn't be able to go through with.

The only viable option, a daunting path that she considered in the stillness of the night, covered in her sheets and peering over them, was to take matters into her own hands. The idea of stopping Tom before he could ascend into the role of a dark lord took root in her mind.

A sudden surge of determination, born from a sense of responsibility and personal conflict coursed through her. She refused to see Tom become what her father had become.

As she continued to gaze into the depths of the black lake, the silent vow formed in her heart as she tugged against the red ribbon wrapped around her wrist.

It was her only option.

---

The Transfiguration classroom hummed with the subdued energy of students focused on their studies, Dumbledore focused his attention on piles of paper dropped lazily on his desk, spending little time looking at what the class did.

Rosalie scribbled messily on her page, writing on the side affects of vanishment on an entity. Her mind was rolled up in her paper, a rare time when nothing else was on her mind but school- she loved every moment of it.

Unfortunately for her, her supposed new found alliance or draw off with Tom Riddle meant she was never going to be left alone in class again. The only reason she had quiet time today was because Coriolanus had also decided to do his work, hardly bothering her at all.

Tom seized a moment between Rosalie lifting her pen off the paper and her moving to stretch. A rolled up piece of parchment landed with a bounce in front of her, she looked behind her and slightly to the side. Tom nodded to the paper with a new sense of authority over her.

She reached down and took the small piece of parchment in her hand, opening it under the shade of her own desk, aware to the idea that no one was looking at what she was doing.

Rosalie delicately traced the contours of Tom's handwriting with her fingertips, a subtle smile playing on her face. The Letter read the name 'Tom' instead of the haughty 'Riddle' he had once insisted upon. The shift did not escape her notice.

It was a subtle nuance that spoke volumes on the undercurrents of mysteries and lies about a great many things weaving between them.

Her eyes returned to Tom, who awaited her response surrounded in anticipation. Unbeknownst to her, if Rosalie had been tuned in to the subtle differences in the moment, she might have noticed the nervous breaths Tom struggled to conceal. His eyes betrayed an eagerness that was soaked with vulnerability, his anticipation was heavy as he awaited her reaction.

The letter was a bridge between the unspeakable things the two were likely to speak of. Rosalie's nod, though subtle, carried her consent for the meeting. Her focus was wavered, and was absorbed by the contents in the letter, leaving her oblivious to the intricate emotions playing out on Tom's features.

It was all becoming too real for Rosalie, would she become as William, Coriolanus and Ben were? Slaves to a man they were forced to call 'friend'? It sounded horrible, a treacherous action placed against people who didn't know how to fight against it.

Tom Riddle disgusted her, she had no idea how one person could be so horrible. If he had put the cruciatus curse on her, what had he done to Ben? She couldn't even think about it. A wave of guilt washed over her features.

Tom, however, was not his usual composed self. If he was, maybe he would have seen through Rosalie's lie by now, and told himself how much he hated and wanted to destroy her for outshining him and finding his secrets. But a feeling of discomfort gripped at him - stuffy hands, a reddening face, the unmistakable signs of illness no doubt.

Yet it was more than mere physical discomfort. Nervousness tinged his every breath, an unease that manifested in his proximity to Rosalie, the desire for her frightening gaze. He grappled with an internal conflict, torn between his usual self and this unusual feeling of vulnerability and weakness.

He needed to see Madam Pomfrey, he had to be sick.

As Rosalie left the letter on her lap, trying to regain her attention back on the work at hand, Coriolanus, his own concentration momentarily diverted, caught sight of the parchment resting on Rosalie's lap. Curiosity compelled him to set his eyes over the lines inked with Tom's elegant handwriting. His forehead creased in a subtle frown at the page before him, reading over the words with a triggering surge of emotions.

His gaze shifted to Riddle, the embodiment of his confusion and frustration. The anger, like a rising tide, coursed through his veins. Why, suddenly, did Tom Riddle want Rosalie? The question echoed in Corio's mind, a puzzle he struggled to unravel.

And asking her to his room? Was he blind? Did he even notice how Coriolanus felt for Rosalie? The sudden surge of possession bit through him faster than light. Tom was his dark lord, he couldn't really hurt him even if he wanted to.

But in Coriolanus's moment of blind rage, filled with a misinterpretation of what he had read, he didn't care what he did to Tom. And in deciding that, he also didn't care what Tom did to him.

Finally, Dumbledore stood up from his desk, signalling the end of the class. He waved and said goodbye to the students. Rosalie, Tom, and Coriolanus all started packing up, each with a vastly different thing going on in their heads.

The lingering tension between them followed them outside of the classroom, where silently, Rose and Tom walked together. They had alchemy together next anyway so it was a habit, not a purposeful act.

The tension suddenly escalated when Coriolanus, fuelled by his perceived threat to Rosalie, who he had deemed his own, pushed Tom from behind and down into a more secluded corridor. In a flash, Corio held his wand against Tom's neck.

"Stay the hell away from Rose, Riddle. I don't care what you are to me, she's mine." His voice was cold and protective.

Rosalie stood a few metres away from the scene, it was an image in her mind that she had never expected a day in her life. She walked closer, her heart beating at the wonder of Coriolanus's misunderstanding and what Tom's reaction would be.

Tom, never one to yield from a challenge, responded with a malicious grin. Rosalie's blood ran cold at the sight of it, and she was afraid he would yell the killing curse right there and then in the public hallway.

"And why would I do that? It doesn't seem that she is yours." Tom spoke venomously, spitting out the last sentence with a particular hatred.

Before Rose could see both of them dead, she stepped in.

"Corio, what the hell is this about?" She asked innocently, her arms crossed.

Coriolanus looked furious even at her, he considered how far that they had escalated, whether it was one-sided from Tom or if she was with him behind his back.

"I saw that letter he passed you, Rose. 'Meet me in my room?' What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He spat, looking back at Tom who didn't look the slightest bit interested in what he had to say.

"You'll regret your own existence if you don't take your bloody wand away from my neck, Rosier." The atmosphere thickened with the anticipation of an impending clash, Tom poised to unleash the power he wielded so effortlessly.

Rosalie reached out to Coriolanus, dragging him away from Riddle. The boys stared each other down, Rosalie's expression remained a blend of frustration and confusion. With her free hand she shooed Tom away, who, at first, was contemplating if he should kill them both for wasting his own time, but then decided against it when he saw the pleading look on Rosalie's face.

He calmed slightly, nodding as he walked himself away from the situation, something he had never done in his life. Even Coriolanus was somewhat disturbed how he had listened to what she had asked of him.

When he was out of sight, Rose's face turned into anger for herself.

"Why did you do that?" Rose demanded, her voice sharp with exasperation.

"You risked blowing my cover! How would I have become your girlfriend in the short time I've been here? Even Lily thought it was weird how well we knew each other."

Coriolanus, his gaze defiant yet laden with a sense of urgency, retorted, "You need to tell your father about Tom," he took a breath, "before I do."

The ultimatum hung in the air, Rosalie's face froze at the threat and her once warm and fuzzy feelings for Coriolanus suddenly turned stark and cold.

Did he not know anything about her? The freedom she wanted from her father?

Unhappy with his demand, Rose made a quick choice fuelled by the desperation and the need to protect her own personal mission, and her want for freedom from her father. She saw one thing standing in the way of that, and that one thing was standing right in front of her.

Without a second thought, she dove into Coriolanus's mind, her wand pressed to his forehead before he could blink. She begun by erasing the memories linked to her mission regarding her father Grindelwald. The spell was a double edged sword, wiping away not only his knowledge of her mission, but also the acknowledgement of her being Grindelwald's only daughter.

The corridor, a silent witness to the erasure of memories, stood as a testament to the sacrifices Rose was willing to make to preserve her intricate secrets and desires to become a woman free of any ties. She removed her wand from his forehead, the spell still situating itself.

The situation fell silent as Tom rounded back into the hallway, a more determined look on his face now than the one he had left with. His presence overshadowed the conversation between Rosalie and Coriolanus.

As Rose caught sight of Tom and saw his expression, she thought she was done for. Coriolanus stood there dizzily, holding his head as his memories rerouted themselves through his brain. Tom's sharp ears had caught the tail end of their exchange, and a steely curiousity etched across his features as he approached.

He stopped a metre away from them.

"What did he mean, telling your father about me?" Tom's voice spoke only to Rosalie, he knew if he even took a second glance a the traitorous bastard standing next to him, Coriolanus's blood would be pooling on the floor.

The atmosphere shifted, tension coiling like a serpent. Caught off guard, Rosalie hesitated, searching for a pliable excuse, another way to snake herself out of a trap like she had so many times before.

"We're engaged." She uttered words that left a complex web of deception.

"Coriolanus and I are engaged, arranged by our parents." She declared, her tone carrying conviction. A false narrative unfolded, but Corio's mind spun into it as well, his mind still under Rose's control unbeknownst to Tom.

Tom's eyebrows furrowed, puzzlement etched on his face which slowly turned into a darker emotion. The notion of Rosalie being engaged to Coriolanus seemed preposterous, a twist that he hadn't expected. Surely that wasn't right?

Tom felt angry, he assumed because he wasn't so taken with being constantly lied to. The pit in his stomach opened up again, his throat dry and harsh when he thought about the engagement.

Skepticism lingered in his gaze, but the truth eluded him.

Rosalie painted the story into Coriolanus's mind, a subtle manipulation that she hoped wouldn't have unintended consequences. At the look of Tom's skeptical face, she furthered her story, snapping Coriolanus out of his spell unnoticeably.

"Coriolanus thought that you and I," She scoffed, with a tinge of disgust, "were having an affair."

Tom's eyes thinned at the excuse, though his mouth sunk into a sly smirk at the idea of that being real. Not one part of his body wanted to believe their engagement, for different reasons.

"Yes, I apologise Riddle. I jumped to conclusions that I shouldn't have." Coriolanus broke back into the conversation. Rose watched him with suspicion, a little unsure if the spell she had used on him worked. It was something she had picked up from one of the books she read.

It was a dark spell, a step up from obliviate, but one that was necessary for her safety. There was not a guilty bone in her body.

Coriolanus held out his hand, an offer for Tom to shake it and forgive him. Coriolanus's instincts told him to forget it; Tom wasn't a forgiving person. But to his utmost surprise, he felt the cold touch of Riddle's hand gripping against his own.

Tom's eyes twitched with a hidden anger, but he knew if he wanted to get anywhere with understanding Rosalie and her secrets, he would have to bide his time and his short temper.

"Quite alright." Tom said coldly.

"I know where your real loyalties lie."

---

As night draped its shadows across the castle, Rosalie found herself hesitating outside of Tom Riddle's room. Since he was head boy, he had certain privileges that no other boy had, including his own room. Rosalie wasn't jealous, she had spent her whole life alone in her room, so sharing one with Amy and Lily wasn't as horrible as others would think.

Rosalie played with the strap of her low cut black dress that hung on the sides of her arms, leaving her collarbones exposed in the cold air. She tapped her heels against the floor, reluctant to knock on the door in front of her. They were to go to Slughorn's party after this, and she felt more nervous for that than this encounter.

Suddenly, the door opened for her. Tom stood slightly leant against the door in all black attire, his suit clung to his chest and he looked clean shaven, the smell of his rose aftershave filled the air, his hair was curly as usual, but it looked like he had done less to it.

Rose eyed the man up and down for a good moment.

"Are you coming in or will you keep standing there like an idiot all night long?" Tom asked sarcastically, his usual mean tone filling up his voice.

Rosalie broke out of her trance, walking through the doorway and past Tom into his room, he watched her with caution. Tom had never had anyone but himself and Ben in his room before. It was a large step for him.

Tom's figure closed the door and remained in the dim candlelight. He regarded Rosalie with a skeptical gaze as she walked through his room, looking at anything she could set her eyes on. His dark bedsheets, unmade to her surprise, the photo of a woman on his drawers, his tidy desk, stacks of paper ordered in some way.

She turned back to look at him, watching him study her with acute awareness. He looked her up and down in the safety of his own room, just as she had to him outside.

"You don't look half bad, Evans." His eyes lingered on her bare shoulders before they twitched back to her face.

"Quite the gentleman." She spoke with a soft sarcasm, walking back to him.

Tom's mouth immediately opened, like some kind of defence for her walking towards him, "I don't trust you." He declared, his words laced with little emotion.

The atmosphere crackled with tension and Rosalie stopped about a metre away from him, he looked down at her with accusation.

Rosalie, unfazed at the words, met his gaze head-on, a silent exchange in her eyes. She never expected him to trust her fully, but she didn't need him to, she had him right where she wanted him.

"You're too skeptical for your own good Tom." She retorted.

Tom, unyielding in his distrust, asserted the skepticism that was his shield that kept him alive in this world. "Like I said, it's Riddle to you." He pushed down the fact that he loved his first name coming from her tongue, it made him forget who it came from.

"But my skepticism is what keeps me alive." His tone became lighter.

Rosalie thinned her eyes, wondering if him wanting to be immortal was the entire depth of it, or if there was a reason behind his dark ways. Her entire being wanted to solve Riddle's riddle.

"And all you want is to stay alive." She stated simply. It wasn't really a question, she looked out of Tom's own window, it was larger than the one she had in her room. The underneath of the Black Lake looked even bigger from where she stood.

Rosalie looked back at Tom. "You want to make a horcrux?"

The verbal dance took a turn as the words left Rose's mouth, daring to dive into the abyss of Tom's intentions. Tom's guarded demeanour wavered momentarily, a clink in his own protective armour.

Reluctantly, he nodded. "I do." He said, with little chance of hiding it if he did deny his desire. He knew Rosalie would be the closest he would get to finding the spell for him. Dumbledore had the book stored in Hogwarts library destroyed some years ago.

"I want it to be impossible for my enemies to get rid of me." He continued.

Rose looked at him, "What enemies?" She sounded innocent of everything.

His enemy looked at him with a great disdain.

"Why rip your soul apart?" Rosalie questioned desperately, there was a tone of hurt in her voice that carried a mixture of curiousity and concern. Tom's heart jumped at the thought of her having concern for him, his mind ignored his heart.

The room held its breath as Tom, with an unsettling calmness, spoke to her.

"I don't think I have a soul Rose." The words, uttered so coldly, sent shivers down Rosalie's spine. It was that and the fact that he had called her by her nickname, which sent an air of confusion to her. What had happened to the usual 'Evans'?

She was momentarily swayed by the conviction in his tone, grappled with the question on how the man before her could have such a sad outlook on his own life. Even though she didn't want to believe it, she knew Tom had a soul, and almost wanted to prove it to him.

Rosalie looked up at Tom and could imagine herself running her hands through his hair, she wanted to know how it looked messy; how he looked when he was messy, uncaring of anything in the world apart from school and friends. She wanted an answer as to what Tom would look like as a normal boy. Would he still annoy her? It was likely, but some part of her knew she wouldn't hate him as she did now.

She didn't hate Tom, she hated Riddle, she hated the dark lord.

Rose found herself caught between the allure of the mysterious boy before her and the knowledge that darkness lurked within the recesses of his being.

Under the dim light of the candles, Rosalie played with the ribbon on her wrist. Tom watched her curiously, noting that she hadn't yet come up with a thing to say against him not having a soul.

"I'll help you," she suddenly declared, a defiance of the strings that were tied to her father throughout her life.

Tom found himself rather happy with the statement, a trusting comment that if followed through, meant he would get everything he wanted from life; immortality. There was nothing more important, or so he thought.

The girl that stood in front of him suddenly became the most beautiful thing in the world, his key to success, the most important piece of the puzzle. Tom played with the ring on his finger, tilting his head down.

"But know I'm doing this for me as well, Riddle. Not just you." Rose said, Tom put his head back into place.

"All my life I had done what my father has told me, and I'll do this for you because I want to." She spoke with a different kind of determination that Tom hadn't seen before. He assumed that Rosalie meant her engagement to Coriolanus, and being sent to Hogwarts, they were things her father instructed.

The allure of a newfound autonomy sparkled in her eyes as she continued.

"If I do this for you, Riddle, I want to be involved in everything. No secrets. If you are making a new world where you're on top. I only ever want to be an inch beside you. I won't be one of your slaves."

She breathed, a sudden fear of herself cooled in her heart, the lie came so easily to her it almost sounded like the truth, her heart saw no difference between the idea of standing by Tom as he destroyed the world to his liking, and destroying him for her own sense of freedom.

"My free will would be the only thing keeping me with you." Rosalie blinked, looking up at him. Her puffy lips sat parted and her blonde hair fell down her back, her eyes were wide in wonder.

Tom was suddenly intrigued by the prospect of having Rosalie by his side, though he would never let her so close. He could settle for most of what she had said. He felt an unfamiliar heat kindling within him at the idea and realisation that Rosalie was asking to be by his side, that she wasn't trying to bring him down.

Rosalie knew the opposite, though the lines between reality and this fake life she had created for Riddle felt blurred. She tried to ignore the gnawing feeling, insisting to herself that she knew what she was doing.

Despite the lingering awareness of her potential ulterior motives, an irresistible draw pulled him closer to her. To Rosalie's surprise, Tom reached down for her hand. The sudden cold enclosed around her small hand, and he held it with a gentleness she had only seen when she had followed him into the forbidden forest.

Tom caressed at Rosalie's hand, reaching up to touch the red ribbon she had on her wrist, which he had noticed a few times before. The boundaries of his calculated demeanour began to blur as the lines between manipulation and genuine attraction became entangled.

He let go of her hand quickly, letting it drop to her side. Tom and Rosalie looked at each other, both just as shocked at themselves. Tom, surprised because he had the care to touch a girl and Rosalie because she had the care to enjoy it. Both felt disgusted at themselves, but hid it behind their cold exteriors.

"Okay, I understand." Tom finally said, swallowing.

Rosalie shifted herself uncomfortably, nodding at Tom's understanding. The dynamic between them had shifted, and Rosalie found herself questioning the mission that once seemed so clear. Tom's magnetic pull tugged at her duty.

In the moment, Tom proposed one more condition.

"Though, I have a condition for this arrangement." He nodded.

Rosalie stayed silent, her mind going to the darkest places.

"A blood pact."

The room, already laden with tension, now quivered with the gravity of the impending decision. Rosalie's eyes stayed connected with Tom, and she wondered what this meant for her.