Twenty Three

Sweet Manipulation

  Rosalie should've known it wouldn't be long until she ended up back in Tom's bed. She could feel his chest pressed against her back, their arms both reaching out to the other side of the bed, Tom's hand clasped around Rosie's. She could hear the subtle breaths he took as he slept, feel the protective grip he held around her waist, keeping her cupped against him, his head nuzzled into her neck.

  All she could smell was him. Behind her from his body, in front of her from his pillow, on her from his shirt she wore. It wasn't only smelling, but feeling. She could still recall what it was like for him to be inside of her. 

  It was an overload of Tom Riddle, and it was starting to seep into her guilt.

  As she slowly rose from the bed, away from his touch, memories of the past few days flooded her mind, each moment with Tom replaying in vivid detail. She found herself questioning whether she was allowing herself to be consumed by the darkness that seemed to surround him, a darkness she had sworn to resist.

  Yet, deep down, she knew that resisting him was futile. She couldn't bring herself to hurt him, nor could she deny the undeniable pull he had over her. The intensity of her feelings for him both exhilarated and frightened her, stirring a sense of obsession that she struggled with.

  Rosalie had never been good at relationships of any magnitude, as she had never had any.

  After successfully leaving the bed without waking Tom up, she slipped out of the room, closing the door as quietly as she could behind her, not caring for her messy appearance in Tom's clothes.

  But as soon as she turned around, Rosalie felt Coriolanus's gaze boring into her, a mixture of anger and hurt reflected in his eyes. She tried to offer an explanation, but words failed her in the face of his accusing stare.

  Before she could say anything, Coriolanus rushed to her side. Anger and hatred written on his face, and it made Rosie feel worse.

  "What were you doing in there? What are you wearing?" His voice trembled with emotion as he demanded answers, though he already knew the truth. He looked disgusted at smelling Tom's cologne all over her, seeming as though he could puke.

  Coriolanus grabbed her hand roughly, gripping her wrist in a way that it'd be sure to bruise. He looked directly in her eye, pain written across his face.

  "Have some respect for yourself. Sleeping with him- you know what that makes you?" He snarled, barking like a dog right in front of her face as she cowered back slightly.

  "A whore."  

  Rosalie frowned, her body involuntarily recoiling as Coriolanus leaned closer. A tumultuous whirlwind of emotions danced across her features - anger, sadness, and fear intermingled. Though she knew she could best him in a duel any day, there was something about him that rendered her immobile, a beacon of fear that left her paralysed in his presence.

 "I should kill him," Coriolanus insisted, his expression softening as the anger ebbed away.

  Rosalie's heart clenched at the desperation in his voice, the hint of madness flickering in his eyes. "Before he kills me," he added, his gaze turning away from her, lost in his own thoughts.

  "You'll just get yourself killed, Coriolanus," Rosalie urged, finally finding her voice as his grip on her loosened. She watched as he turned his attention back to the door, waiting for Tom to awaken and emerge.

  "Coriolanus... all this Coriolanus... what happened to Corio? When did you become such a bitch?" His words cut through the tension, his frustration simmering beneath the surface as he confronted her.

  "A bitch?" she scoffed, her emotions threatening to spill over as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of his accusations. She fought the urge to lash out, knowing that anger would only fuel the flames of their conflict.

  "You really just need to let all of this go - let me go. I am not, and have never been in love with you," Rosalie stated firmly, her voice tinged with annoyance.

  Coriolanus scowled, his frustration evident. "And what, you're in love with him instead?" he snapped, disbelief lacing his tone.

   "Do you know what kind of person he is?" he pressed, shaking his head in disbelief as he held onto his chin.

  "I know who I'm choosing," Rosalie replied, her resolve unwavering despite the uncertainty gnawing at her heart.

  "Yeah, right," Coriolanus retorted bitterly, his anger simmering beneath the surface as he took a few steps back down the hallway and retreated into his room, leaving Rosalie alone with her tumultuous thoughts.

  Rosalie couldn't help but wonder if he was right- if she did truly understand the path she had chosen. Would she be the one to stand by Tom's side as he pursued his dark ambitions? The answer remained unsure, leaving her uncertain of what the future held. 

 Today was meant to be the day they left, returning to Hogwarts to resume the year, but Rosalie's thoughts raced too quickly for her to dwell on it. With a heavy heart, she slowly retreated from Tom's door.

  In her own room, she felt a surge of urgency, a need to take control of the chaos swirling within her mind. Without hesitation, she began to pack, moving swiftly to gather her belongings. Clothes were snatched from her wardrobe and stuffed carelessly into her bag, the frantic rhythm of her actions betraying the turmoil in her soul.

  Once everything was packed away and zipped up, Rosalie paused, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she tried to calm the storm raging within her. She exchanged Tom's indecent shirt for a more casual, slim-fitting dress, her fingers trembling as she struggled to slip on her shoes.

  "Rosie?"

  She looked up quickly, her heart jumping as she dropped the shoe to the floor, her mind momentarily rendered useless.

  Tom walked in, observing her packed bag and trembling hands, and the way she looked at him as if he were about to kill her. He walked slowly, now dressed himself as Rosalie began to realise.

  "Why did you leave in such a rush?" He asked simply, gaining on her. Rose blinked out of her trance and leant back down to grab her shoe, her hand still shaking uncontrollably.

  He noticed her distress and swiftly rushed to her side, his hand gently resting on her shoulder as she struggled to put on her shoe.

  "Are you sure this wasn't a mistake?" Rosalie's voice was barely a whisper, frustration evident in her tone as she dropped the shoe again in her attempt to wear it.

  Tom watched her with a mixture of sorrow and understanding, knowing that their actions had consequences that couldn't be ignored. "Maybe we shouldn't have done anything," she continued, her gaze fixed on the door as if searching for answers in its wooden frame. 

  Without hesitation, Tom knelt beside her, his fingers deftly retrieving her bare foot and slipping the shoe onto it with practiced ease. Though he felt a surge of anger at her defiance, he pushed it aside, choosing instead to focus on her vulnerability.

  "Neither of us regret it," he stated simply, his gaze meeting hers as he moved to put on the other shoe.

  Rosalie finally looked at him, her eyes searching his face for reassurance. "You're you and I'm me," she murmured, uncertainty lingering in her voice. "I'm not sure if I can stand by and let you become Voldemort."

  As the last shoe was secured in place, Tom gently took Rosalie's hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on her palm as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "If you were to leave me, I'd have no choice but to become only him," he admitted, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. 

  "Tom Riddle only exists because you do."

  The words, though pretty and full with meaning, stung Rosie. If she was the only thing keeping him from becoming a violent monster, the guilt of leaving would eat her up for the rest of her life.

  Tom was manipulating her and he knew it. In the depths of his own mind he knew he had no choice but to do the very things she didn't want him to. Though, he had figure he would be able to keep them seperate. Tom Riddle's life would be completely different from Voldemort's, he could have everything he wanted while keeping the woman he loved happy.

  Rosalie stood up and pushed him away, but he followed her tail tightly, grabbing her back and pulling her into his chest as he stood up. He held her head in his hands, and leant his forehead against hers.

  "I just need you to stay." He said in a vicious tone.

 "Don't you want to feel powerful with me?" Tom couldn't help but ask, his voice tinged with longing. He knew the allure of power was strong, especially for Rosalie, and he hoped to sway her mind, to convince her to stand by his side not just as his, but as his dark lady.

  She met his gaze with a quiet intensity, her eyes reflecting the turmoil within her soul."I've had enough of power to last a lifetime," she replied softly, her words heavy with the weight of her past experiences.

  "It would be us against the world," Tom whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he reached for her.

  Rosalie grasped onto the hand he held her face with, her fingers intertwining with his as she contemplated the sticky truth of it all. She knew the potential for greatness that lay within their grasp, the power they could wield together. But that was precisely what scared her the most.

  "You're mine. You should know just how much we could achieve together," Tom urged, his voice pleading.

  "I'm trying to accept it, Tommy. I want to love all of you, but I just..." Rosalie's voice trailed off, the uncertainty in her heart echoing in the silence that followed.

  "I'm scared of what we could do." She trembled. Tom's arms wrapped around her, feeling proud he was finally getting to the truth- breaking down her walls so he could build them back up with only him and him alone inside.

  "Who said we had to create something we're scared of? Do something great with me. The world can be ours." He smiled manically, looking into her eyes with love and lust, with hopes for the future.

 "What if-" Rosalie began, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

  "No. No what ifs. We will do what we want to do. And only that," Tom interrupted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  Rosalie fell silent, unable to find the words to counter Tom's unwavering logic. He made it all seem so simple, as if she had overthought everything, as if sticking by Voldemort's side would somehow be a good thing.

  With a resigned nod, Rosalie was defeated, feeling numb under Tom's touch.

  Tom smiled at her tenderly, pulling her close and pressing her head against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging desperately as if he were the only anchor in her tumultuous world. And in that moment, he revelled in being the one she sought solace in, the one she was desperate for.

---

 Tom took Rosalie's bag from her as she bid a short and heavy goodbye to Coriolanus's parents. She couldn't shake the feeling that she wouldn't be invited back, not after the tension that hung thick in the air.

  Her mother's stern expression and Coriolanus's father's bored gaze only confirmed her suspicions. With a sense of embarrassment weighing heavily on her, Rosalie quickly made her way onto the train, eager to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere.

  As Tom stowed their bags away, Rosalie slipped into one of the empty compartments at the back of the train, choosing the seat by the window. She watched as the minutes ticked by, the anticipation building as the train prepared to depart.

  Soon, Tom entered the compartment, his cold and calculating gaze meeting hers as he took his seat across from her. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

  "Not sitting with Lily?" He asked.

  "I think she's purposefully giving us space." Rosalie tucked her smile away as she leant her head against the window, looking over at Tom.

  She had calmed down now, her only thoughts, happy, about the boy who sat in front of her. 

  "I'm sure you'd rather sit with me anyway, love." Tom teased, a playful look in his eye as he leant over his knees on the seat.

  Rosie smiled and looked down, listening to the train move faster and faster.

  "What's your favourite colour?" He asked suddenly, swallowing as he clamped his hands together. Tom's hair fell in front of his face when she looked up at him again, her smile still plastered to her face.

  Tom's sudden question caught Rosalie off guard, but she couldn't help but smile at his unexpected curiosity. She watched as his hands clenched together, a nervous energy radiating from him.

  "Why do you want to know?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

  "Well, I know a lot of things about you, but believe it or not, I don't know everything," Tom replied, shaking his head slightly. Despite his composed exterior, she could sense the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. No matter how long they had known each other, Rosalie always had this effect on him.

  "It's blue. Dark blue, like an ocean blue," she answered, her smile growing wider as she shared the simple detail with him.  

  "What's yours?" She asked, the world going quiet when she looked at his face.

  Tom looked in her eyes. 

  "Also blue. But a really light blue, so light it can even look grey." He said, looking into that very colour. Her eyes entrapped him, they could tell him so much about her while telling him so little. He would die before losing the ability to look at that colour.

  Rosalie scrunched her face, "That's pretty specific, why that colour?" She asked, with no idea what his words really meant.

  "No reason, apart from the fact that it's an undeniably beautiful colour." He looked down at Rosalie's hands, smooth and small. He reached out for them, suddenly in desperate need of feeling her skin.

  Rosie looked at him, grappling with how such a dangerous man could be sitting here, playing with her fingers. She knew that she would never really know what the future had in store for her unless she was actively involved in it. 

  Being with Tom was dangerous, but it wasn't something new to her.

  She knew she had no choice but to stay with him, acknowledging her own deep dependency that she had developed for him.

  "You must stay close with me when we arrive back to Hogwarts." He suddenly stated.

  She traced her fingers along his arm, "Why's that?" She asked, innocent of anything else but the feeling of his touch.

  "I have no idea what your father might do next. I'm sure he's heard about Coriolanus's ball. You're my only Horcrux, you must be kept safe," Tom stated, his voice tinged with urgency and concern.

  Rosalie slowly withdrew her hands from Tom's, a sudden coldness enveloping her.

  "I hate when you say it like that," she muttered, her tone strained with frustration.

  Tom clenched his jaw, a surge of frustration rising within him at her reaction. "Like what?" he asked, oblivious to the effect his words had on her.

  "Like I'm just what's keeping you alive- like the only reason you're here is because I'm a fucking Horcrux-" Rosalie's voice grew louder, her words tinged with bitterness, but before she could finish her sentence, Tom's lips crashed onto hers.

  Instantly, Rosalie melted into the kiss, her hands instinctively reaching for the back of Tom's head as he pulled her onto his lap, the world around them fading away as they lost themselves in each other's embrace.

  His hands traveled up Rosalie's back, his grip tightening around her waist as she deepened the kiss, the intensity between them building until Tom grunted and pulled back, feeling the tightness in his own pants.

  They breathed heavily, their faces inches apart as they struggled to regain their composure.

  "You are what's keeping me alive. Horcrux or not, if I don't have you, I'm nothing," Tom whispered, his voice barely audible as he brushed her ear with his words.

  "I don't know how to quit you, Tom," Rosalie confessed sadly, her gaze locked with his as she began to slide off his lap and onto the seat next to him.

  "You don't need to," Tom assured her, turning to face her as she settled close beside him. He reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek as he pulled her face to his once more, planting a softer, less greedy kiss on her lips.

  Rosalie could feel herself shaking at the contact, overwhelmed by the intensity of their connection and the fear of what it meant to be so deeply entangled with someone like Tom. But in that moment, as she succumbed to the rush of emotions coursing through her, she knew that she wouldn't be able to walk away from him, no matter how hard she tried.

  Tom slowly looked away out the window, rain beginning to patter down on the sides of the compartment. Rosie rested her head down onto Tom's shoulder, looking in the same direction, admiring the droplets that raced down the window.

  Comfortable silence fell between them, the rhythmic rumble of the train providing a soothing backdrop to their thoughts. Tom's hand slipped back down over Rosalie's and gripped it peacefully, revelling in the fact that he had gotten her back to him.

  He wasn't sure what the future would bring, but Tom was the kind of man to make what he wanted happen, no matter the consequences.

  Rosalie wanted to see where her destiny took her, and sometimes she didn't like the path she was taken, but she thought, perhaps she would like the destination.

  As the train rumbled on, Rosalie found herself contemplating her own future, as hard as it was to picture. Her eyes closed, and her mind drifted to what lay ahead for the both of them.

  All of it was grey, colourless, lifeless. The walls of the estate travelled higher than Rosalie could see with her own line of vision. Black night poured from the windows, shadows casted from the candles lit about the room, floating above their heads. 

  A man stood in front of her, wide backed, in a long trench coat with black hair. She looked at him, being able to recognise that back from anywhere. Rosalie walked to catch up with him, but the longer she walked, the further away he seemed.

  Her steps felt futile, the black outside turned to white, then to black again.

  How long had she been walking?

  She began to run, finally seeming to make some leeway between their distance. Soon enough, Rosalie stood right behind him, looking up at the back of his head, unmoving.

  "Tommy?" She asked quietly, the situation was overwhelming. 

  When no response came, she began to walk around him, his face slowly coming into view. Rosalie could recognise his features as Tom, his dark smirk and charismatic gaze. But, he looked somehow completely different, older.

  His facial structure was more defined, his hair styled differently, more modern in the front. His eyes were slimmer, but it was still the same Tom she was falling hopelessly in love with, even if she hadn't admitted it to him yet.

  This Tom was at least five years older, six perhaps. And he was still dashingly handsome, even more than now.

  "Tommy?" She asked again, now that she could see his face.

  He turned to look at her, their eyes meeting. The electric feeling she got in her heart was still the same. His glance was colder, more distant. Tom looked away again.

  Suddenly, his face twisted in manic anger, screams suddenly filling the air.

  Rosalie's eyes turned to what her ears had heard, and right beside her, a man had appeared. A normal man you'd see just walking about the street, a muggle, laying on the floor right beside her, writhing in pain.

  She turned back to Tom, suddenly a wand in his hand as he twisted it menacingly. His presence suddenly felt more commanding, his power, unmistakable.

  "Tom, stop." She said firmly. 

  He couldn't hear her, it was as if she weren't even there. She looked back at the muggle on the floor, cuts and bruises all along his arms as he arched and stretched in ways the human body shouldn't. The echoes of his pain bounced from the high ceilings and filled the long and empty room with anguish.

  She blinked away tears, her head flicking back to Tom, ready to say something. But she couldn't, not when she saw the look in his eyes.

  Gleaming with a ruthless determination, he wielded his destructive power with a terrifying ease. 

  She wasn't able to stare at him for long before she felt a sudden pull at her back, she flew through the air until she hit something. The force dropped her down till she sat on a dark wooden chair, carved beautifully into designs of flames. 

  Rosalie only blinked once before a long table appeared in front of her, much like the one her father would sit at the head of when he was instructing his followers. She tried to move, but her hands and body were locked in place on the chair, the only thing free of the curse, her head.

  Her breathing quickened, and the sudden sound of footsteps approaching to her left had her on her guard. Rosie's head flicked towards the sound, and Tom approached her swiftly, a calm yet threatening demeanour emitting from his presence.

  She swallowed as he approached.

  He was at her side in a minute, looking down at her, his eyes changing from distant to affectionate. Tom dropped to his knees, grabbing her hand from the place it had been stuck, it only seemed to move when he held it, when he had power over it.

  He kissed her knuckles softly, his lips barely grazing the skin. Tom's eyes returned up to Rosalie's passion filling his eyes.

  "I couldn't have done this without you, my love," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and admiration.

  In that moment, Rosalie realised the extend of their bond, the depth of their connection transcending the boundaries of time and circumstance. 

  Tom was right, Together, they were unstoppable.

A/N

dun dun dunnnn

A bit shorter than usual but yk

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