Twenty Five

Fright

   "It appears the secret is out, Rosalie," Dumbledore remarked, his voice carrying a weight of understanding as he strode across his office, the heavy door closing behind them, sealing off the outside world just as the day's classes had concluded.

  Rosalie maintained her composure, though, beneath her calm facade, a storm of emotions brewed. She had endured the stares and whispers at dinner the previous night and throughout the morning classes, all eyes lingering on her, aware of her lineage and perhaps fearing she might inherit her father's darkness.

  "Yes, well, no need to rub it in, Professor," Rosalie replied, her retort laced with a hint of resignation and a touch of self-pity.

  Dumbledore settled himself slowly behind his desk, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the polished surface, cradling his head in his hands. He exhaled heavily, a soft tut escaping his lips as he tilted his head in thought.

  "I cannot imagine what it must have been like to live with that man for seventeen years," he mused, his gaze distant with empathy.

  "And you say that as someone who was once in love with him," Rosalie interjected softly, her voice tinged with curiousity.

  "What should I do, Professor?" she implored, her tone laden with uncertainty.

  "Your place is here at Hogwarts, Rosalie. You are welcome regardless of your father's actions," Dumbledore reassured her gently. "But, would you like your records changed to reflect a different last name?"

  Dumbledore's expression shifted, his features contorted with a pained reluctance. It weighed heavily on him to talk about such a delicate subject. Yet, when Rosalie's name was connected with the destruction and death a Grindelwald had caused, he couldn't help but wonder if she might welcome the opportunity for a fresh start.

  Rosalie hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "No, thank you. I plan on changing my last name soon anyway," she responded with a determined resolve.

  Her Professor paused, a light flashing behind the depths of his knowing gaze.

  "I would advise caution if you are considering taking the name 'Riddle,'" Dumbledore cautioned, his expression grave.

  Rosalie's mouth dropped slightly, her heart beating. She closed it quickly and looked her professor directly in the eyes, feeling as though he was trying to play father with her, perhaps out of pity for who her real father was.

  "I still hold hope for him, Professor. Please respect that," Rosalie pleaded, her voice tinged with defiance.

  Dumbledore looked down, the stern look she held telling him that no amount of persuasion or argument could sway her unwavering loyalty to Riddle, despite the darkness that surrounded his name.

  "Of course," Albus conceded, his eyes softening with understanding, real understanding.

---

  As Rosalie deftly tied Tom's black tie, her fingers moving with practiced ease, she couldn't help but notice the frustration etched into his features. His typically composed demeanour seemed momentarily frazzled, and she couldn't suppress the small smile that tugged at her lips.

  "Next time just get me to do it from the start, I don't understand how you could mess up typing a tie so badly," she teased gently, her voice laced with affection as she adjusted the knot.

  Tom let out a huff of annoyance, his breath catching slightly as her proximity sent a flutter through his chest. It was like even after all this time she could still catch him off guard. She looked up at him sheepishly, though she looked as beautiful as ever.

  On an instinct, he reached his hand to her cheek, tracing his fingers on her soft skin, feeling the heat of the blood running past her flesh.

  Insecure thoughts didn't hail from Tom's mind often, but he couldn't deny the effect she had on him, nor the awareness of how strong she really was- bloodline and all.

  "Rosalie," he began tentatively, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty, "This may sound like a stupid question."

  She deftly wrapped the fabric around once again, pausing to offer him a short smile. "No question is ever stupid, Tommy. Ask away," she encouraged him softly.

  Tom swallowed, his nerves palpable as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "Do you..." he began, his breath hitching slightly as if grappling with the significance of his inquiry, "Do you think any less of me because I'm only a half-blood?" The words hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability.

  Rosalie paused, her fingers halting momentarily before resuming their task. "Perhaps I spoke too soon. Maybe there are indeed foolish questions," she remarked cryptically, her expression unreadable.

  "Why would I ever care about your blood status? Full blood, half blood, muggle-born, or plain muggle. You are you, and I would find my way back to you at any cost," Rosalie declared, her cheeks tinted with a rosy hue as the warmth of affection blossomed within her.

  Tom furrowed his eyebrows, his pulse quickening with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. What had he done to deserve such a person to be attached to him? But the doubts persisted, his insecurities gnawing at him like relentless shadows.

  "Shouldn't you want to be with someone who is a pure-blood? As you are one yourself? I mean, why defile yourself?" he pressed, his tone tinged with a hint of desperation.

  "Defile myself? Tom, please," Rosalie interjected, her voice tinged with exasperation.

  "What happens when we have children- wouldn't you be disgusted that they aren't as strong as they could be?" he continued, his apprehension spilling forth in a torrent of words.

  "We're having children now, are we? Calm down, I don't think I've ever seen you so insecure," Rosalie remarked, her tone gentle but firm.

  "Insecure?" Tom scoffed, a note of insecurity creeping into his own voice.

  "I am anything but. I'm just looking out for you," he insisted, his resolve unwavering.

  "Then stop. My mind is made up. I will 'defile' myself by being with you," Rosalie asserted, her tone resolute as she finished tying his tie.

  "My father always said that it didn't matter if someone was muggle-born or half-born. If you wield magic, you're a wizard," she continued, her father's wisdom resonating in her mind. "And besides, you're also the heir of Slytherin, Tom. That should count for something, shouldn't it?"

  Tom's expression darkened slightly as he voiced his concerns. "Muggle-borns can be a problem," he muttered, a hint of venom creeping into his tone.

  Sensing the direction of his thoughts and unwilling to entertain them further, Rosalie leaned in quickly, pressing a gentle kiss to Tom's cheek. "Let's go," she whispered softly, her words a quiet plea to leave the doubts behind and focus on the present moment together.

---

  Two courses into the dinner party, and it seemed that Slughorn had indulged a bit too much in the festivities. Among the sea of unfamiliar faces, Rosalie could only distinguish Malfoy, a recent addition to the Slug Club. The rest of the attendees were mostly younger students, the ones that easily whispered to each other about her.

  Seated together, Tom's hand remained firmly gripped on Rosalie's thigh under the tablecloth, offering silent reassurance with each fleeting glance she received.

  As dessert was served, Rosalie eyed the quivering green jelly-like cake on her plate with mild disgust. Tom merely smiled at her reaction, seemingly unfazed by the peculiar British delicacy.

  "It must be a British thing," Rosalie remarked to herself, casting a sideways glance at Tom. She had never seen such a dish in Austria or Hungary.

  Suddenly, Slughorn turned his attention to Rosalie and Tom, his happy voice drawing the attention of the entire table.

  "So, Rosalie," Slughorn began, his tone both curious and probing, "I'm sure this is a rather intimate question, but I think many of us here are rather interested in knowing. With the recent headlines in the papers- is it true that you are the daughter of Grindelwald?"

  Rosalie's throat felt dry as all eyes turned to her, some filled with fear, others with disgust. She stole a quick glance at Tom, finding reassurance in his determined expression, silently urging her to speak her truth without fear.

  "It's true," she responded, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

  Slughorn's initial shock quickly transformed into delight. "Oh, how marvellous!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. "No wonder you made it into the club. I knew there was something exceptional about you-"

  But before Slughorn could finish, a bold Gryffindor girl with straight black hair interrupted, her tone accusatory. "Excuse me, Professor, but how is it exceptional to have the daughter of a murderer at our school? It hardly makes us feel safe. The paper even said she's following in his footsteps."

  Slughorn's response was swift, coming to Rosalie's defence. "Oh, come now, Annie. Don't believe everything you read in the paper. I don't think Rosalie would be here if she wasn't on the right side of the war. Isn't that right, Rosalie?" he asked kindly, his eyes filled with understanding.

  "What the newspaper says isn't true. It's an old photo, and I want no connection to my father," Rosalie replied softly, the weight of the conversation pressing down on her.

  Sensing her discomfort, Slughorn redirected the conversation. "Well, I think that's enough of that. Let Rosalie be. She's an exceptional student with an exceptional future."

  Rosalie nodded gratefully, taking a sip of water to steady her nerves.

  "And I, for one, can't wait to be invited to her and Tom's wedding," Slughorn added with a jovial smile.

  Rosalie choked on her water, her eyes widening in surprise, while Tom maintained his composure, a glimmer of anticipation dancing in his gaze. 

  "And when do you plan to pop the big question, Tom?" Slughorn inquired, his gaze shifting to the young man beside Rosalie. "Surely, you wouldn't wait long after graduating."

  Tom's lips quirked into a knowing smile as he replied, "I have plans for it sooner rather than later, Professor."

  Slughorn nodded in approval, his gaze returning to Rosalie. "You're a lucky girl, Rosalie," he declared, his tone brimming with sincerity.

  As Slughorn continued to praise their union, Rosalie looked at Tom with wide eyes, wondering if his words were merely a gesture to please their Professor, or if he truly meant them.

---

  As the evening wore on and the festivities of the Slug Club dinner party gradually wound down, Rosalie and Tom began walking back in the quiet corners of the Hogwarts corridors.

  "Don't get the wrong idea, but can I sleep in your room tonight?" Rosalie's voice held a hint of vulnerability as she posed the question.

  "You don't even need to ask," Tom replied with a soft smile, his grip on her hand gentle and reassuring.

  Rosalie found herself savouring this side of Tom, the one that was tender and affectionate.

  "But you'll have to go alone for now," he continued, a shadow passing over his features. "There's something I need to take care of first."

  "What sort of something?" Rosalie's curiosity was piqued as they strolled together through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts.

"Just... organising things," Tom replied evasively, his expression guarded.

  Rosalie raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "Secret meetings, perhaps?" she teased, lifting his arm to inspect the intricate death eater tattoo etched into his skin. Her finger traced the lines gently, eliciting a shiver from Tom.

  If it was a symbol of death, why did it have to look so good on him?

  He swiftly caught her hand, intertwining their fingers before changing the subject to the piece of fabric that was constantly wrapped around her wrist. "Where did you get that ribbon?" he asked, his tone casual yet curious.

  Rosalie shrugged, her gaze turning thoughtful. "I think it belonged to my mother, but I'm not entirely sure. I found it tucked away in a dark arts book," she explained, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

  Tom nodded, his curiosity satisfied for the moment. "Do you ever think about being a mother?" he asked suddenly, his tone uncharacteristically introspective.

  Rosalie paused, taken aback by the unexpected question. "I... I've never really thought about it," she admitted, her brows furrowing in contemplation. But then she smiled and turned to look at Tom, curiosity dancing in her eyes. "Why do you ask? Do you want to be a father?"

  Tom hesitated, his gaze drifting away momentarily before returning to meet hers. "I've never considered it, but you never know," he replied cryptically, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

  Rosie wasn't sure if she could imagine Tom being a father, I mean, he had killed his own. The mere thought had alarm bells ringing in her head, but every part of her hoped desperately that she was changing him with every moment they spent together.

  She moved the dark thoughts aside, and Rosalie chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Well, don't get any ideas. I'm far too young to be a mother," she teased, giving him a playful shove.

  Tom feigned surprise, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "You'd be a good one though" he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement.

  Rolling her eyes, Rosalie nudged him again. "Just be back soon so we can practice how we're going to make one later," she retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  Tom's smirk widened into a grin, "How unladylike, we aren't even married."

  "Like that would ever stop us."

  They both smiled as they parted ways, their hands slowly breaking apart as Tom began walking in the opposite direction down the corridor. It was moments like these, filled with laughter and playful banter, that made their bond all the more precious. 

  Rosalie went back to his room, waiting patiently tucked under his sheets until late into the night, when she eventually drifted off to sleep.

  She didn't hear him come in that night.

---

  When Rosalie woke the next morning, she found herself still alone. Reaching across the mattress to Tom's side, she felt nothing. A faint sense of unease crept into her consciousness. 

  "Tom?" Rosalie called out, her voice echoing softly in the empty room as she glanced around, searching for any sign of him. When there was no reply, she got up and ready quickly, making her way to the great hall for breakfast without even looking in the mirror.

  When Rosalie finally arrived, she found him seated rather contentedly, sipping from a cup of tea. Hastening over to him, she took a seat beside him without so much as a glance in his direction. 

  Rosalie wasted no time in questioning him about his whereabouts the previous night. "Where were you?" she asked, her tone a blend of concern, annoyance, and curiosity.

  Tom's response was terse. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you up," he replied, his expression guarded.

  Unsatisfied with his vague answer, Rosalie pressed him further. "But where did you go?" she insisted, her brow furrowing in frustration as she reached for a piece of toast, spreading butter on it with more force than necessary. William, Ben, and Lily observed the exchange quietly, reluctant to intervene in the tense atmosphere.

  "You don't need to worry about it," Tom replied dismissively, his gaze flickering towards hers.

  Before Rosalie could protest any further, Tom excused himself, placing his mug on the table and departing, leaving her feeling bewildered and unsettled.

  After a few moments of awkward silence, it was William who eventually approached her, his expression grave as he revealed the truth. 

  He breathed quickly. "Tom created his second Horcrux last night,"  his words heavy with implication.

  Rosalie's heart sank as she realised the significance. "And he wouldn't tell me," she murmured, a sense of betrayal gnawing at her. She looked between William, Lily and Ben, their faces telling them that every single one of them knew.

  So why wouldn't he tell her? Why not ask for her help? Rosalie wondered, her frustration mounting.

  "He wouldn't tell any of us what it was, just like how he hid the last one," William explained, his voice tinged with frustration. Rosalie froze at the mention of it, but she knew Tom would never let people know what- or more accurately who his first horcrux was.

  Lily looked at her friend sadly. "He really didn't tell you what he was doing? Even I knew... I just sort of assumed you would too."

  Rosalie felt a pang of hurt and betrayal. "Are you even one of them?" she asked quietly, feeling a rift growing between them. It had been too long since they'd had a real conversation, and Rosalie couldn't help but wonder if their friendship had suffered because of their respective love lives.

  Lily lifted her sleeve slightly, revealing the bottom of the Death Eater tattoo. Rosalie's heart sank further at the realisation that her friend had joined Tom's cause without her knowledge.

  "Why?" Rosalie asked, her voice tinged with heartbreak. She knew Lily's ideals were not aligned with Tom's ambitions.

  Lily exchanged a glance with William, and Rosalie watched, feeling a sense of understanding wash over her. She knew all too well what it meant to be torn between loyalty and love.

  "When did you even-"

  "A few weeks ago, at a meeting," Lily interjected, her tone firm, though there was an underlying feeling of sadness that she hadn't even realised.

  "A meeting? When was there a meeting?" Rosalie's voice was tinged with frustration and confusion.

  "There have been multiple," Ben chimed in, his patience wearing thin. "Tom doesn't want you at them, Rosalie. I'm sure he has his reasons. Respect them. He's our leader."

  Rosalie's gaze dropped like a scolded puppy's, her irritation simmering beneath the surface as she pondered why Tom felt the need to withhold information. She didn't ponder long on the thought, determination flaring within her.

  Ignoring Ben's protests, Rosalie hurried after Tom, catching up with him just as he reached the dungeons. He could sense her approaching, but he stood his ground, turning to face her with a hint of apprehension in his eyes.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Rosalie demanded when she finally reached him, hurt evident in her voice.

  Tom met her gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. "I know you don't like the thought of needless killing," he replied calmly. "But I had to do it. I killed Myrtle a while ago for that reason"

  Rosalie's breath caught in her throat, disbelief washing over her. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

  "She was an easy choice," Tom replied coldly. "Annoying and very much in love with me."

  Horror flooded Rosalie as she recoiled from his callous admission. Was she a fool for loving him as well? If she admitted that, would he try and kill her soon after?

  "I heard she was killed by a monster," Rosalie protested, her mind reeling with the implications.

  Tom smirked. "Yes, that's right," he confirmed, his tone devoid of remorse.

  The revelation left Rosalie feeling hollow, her trust in Tom slightly shaken. "What did you make the Horcrux out of?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Tom produced his diary and handed it to her. "This," he replied simply.

  Rosalie stared at the diary in her hands, conflicted emotions swirling within her. "Why would you trust me enough to hold this?" she asked, uncertainty lacing her words.

  Tom's touch softened as he cupped her cheek gently. "Because you'd have to destroy yourself to kill me," he replied softly. "And I wouldn't let you do that."

  "And you've been holding meetings without me as well?" Rosalie inquired, her voice tinged with hesitation as she peered into his eyes.

  Tom's gaze faltered, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face. "They're not important," he deflected.

  Rosalie couldn't suppress a bitter laugh. "Ah, so that's the reason," she remarked wryly.

  Tom nodded, a hint of sadness shadowing his features. "Yes," he admitted cryptically.

  Confusion clouded Rosalie's features as she searched his face for answers. "What do you mean? Why do you need more Horcruxes?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

  "One day, you'll hate me again," Tom replied solemnly. "And I can't have you making any rash decisions."

  With a gentle kiss to her cheek, Tom left Rosalie standing there, a whirlwind of emotions churning within her. As she watched him disappear back into the shadows, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease and mistrust that lingered in the air.

---

  A bit longer than a week had passed and she couldn't count the number of times that Rosalie had found herself alone in Tom's bed. The emptiness of the room enveloped her like a suffocating shroud. What was the point of him inviting her to share his space if he was never there? 

  The sheets felt cold and barren, a vast expanse where Tom Riddle was notably gone. They draped over her body like a silent reminder of his absence as she struggled to drift into sleep. Her outstretched arm longed for the warmth of his touch, aching for his presence beside her, yet knowing deep down that he was off to another secretive meeting.

  The frequency of these new meetings had only increased with time, each one shrouded in more mystery than the last. At some point, Rosalie had stopped questioning their purpose or her inclusion in them. If Tom deemed her necessary, he would summon her. In the meantime, she felt like little more than a discarded accessory, sent to the sidelines of his ever-expanding ambitions.

  Rosie was in one of Tom's oversized shirts, her legs sprawled out bare atop the sheets, she lay in the dimly lit room, her hair a tousled mess cascading over her face. She waited, her mind swirling with unspoken words and unanswered questions. There were things she wanted to share with him- about herself, about her past, about her father. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling of distance growing between them.

  As the minutes stretched into hours, Rosalie's patience waned, replaced by a gnawing sense of longing and frustration. Why was he pulling away? What was he keeping from her? These questions weighed heavily on her mind, fueling her uncertainty and unease in the solitude of the empty room.

  Eventually, she turned to her side and kept her eyes closed, even when she finally heard Tom enter his own room, his footsteps pausing at the doorway as he watched Rosalie's sleeping frame breathe up and down.

  He felt guilty, but not because he had been out all night, but because he liked that she had just been there waiting for him, safe and sound, only belonging to him. It was unfair, he could see that if he thought hard enough, but the desire to keep her safe and to keep her away from anyone else that could take her- was far too strong.

  Rosie looked so beautiful tangled up in their bedsheets, her bare legs sticking out teasing him like it was the first time he'd ever seen a naked woman.

  Tom shrugged off his robes with a fluid motion, the fabric sliding down his arms as he loosened his shirt and undid his tie. He let out a sigh as he discarded his pants, leaving him only in his underwear. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

  With deliberate steps, Tom approached Rosalie's slumbering form. She lay facing away from him, seemingly lost in the depths of sleep. He couldn't help but admire her serene countenance, illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the window, casting a silvery sheen on her tousled hair.

  As he settled in behind her, Tom resisted the urge to wake her. His fingers grazed her hair, tangling lightly in its silky strands. He longed to speak to her, to share the thoughts and feelings that weighed heavily on his mind. Yet, he hesitated, unsure if disturbing her rest was worth the risk.

  Temptation hit his mind more and more as he shifted himself closer, he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her towards his body, dipping his head into her neck, he whispered to Rosalie, against everything his mind told him to.

  "Are you awake love?"

  His hands wandered across her body, gripping onto the skin of her thighs as he kissed her neck softly. Rosie had been awake this entire time, but she was almost too annoyed to give him any time of day.

  Her breathing changed, and Tom could feel her body becoming weaker at his touch. He kissed down onto her shoulder as his hands snaked further up her thighs, an overwhelming amount of need washing through the both of them.

"I know you are, Rosie," Tom murmured, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric of Rosalie's underwear as he sat up slightly.

"I need to be inside you," he whispered softly into her ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. Rosalie's heart raced at his words, her body responding instinctively to the intensity of his desire.

  Despite her annoyance, the slow movement of Tom's hands as he slid down her underwear ignited a longing within her. She could sense his bulge pressing against her back, his firm chest pressed intimately against her, his arms enveloping her in a possessive embrace. With a gentle touch, he urged her legs apart, his restraint evident as he awaited her permission to proceed.

  "Please." She begged quietly, her eyes opening slightly, but only to meet Tom's eyes, giving him permission.

  He slipped his cock inside her roughly, deepening his thrust slowly as his hand wrapped around Rosalie's neck, feeling the vibrations of her moans as he slowly pulled out, then thrusted harshly back into her until he could fit his whole length.

  He grunted at her tightness, her walls caving down on his cock as she gave herself over to him, her arms reaching up to touch his hand on her neck as a sense of comfort.

  "So tight," he whispered, feeling her moans rip through her throat as he praised her.

  "You're being so perfect for me Rosie." He gripped her throat tighter as his thrusting became faster and faster. She felt a chill down her spine, swearing she had heard those very words come from her father's mouth- though in a much different concept of course.

  Rosalie felt her eyes move to the back of her head as he fucked her body tirelessly, the noise of their skin hitting against each other muffled under the sheets.

  Tom's hands found their way to her breasts, his touch sending a shiver of pleasure coursing through her body. Adjusting the position of his cock slightly, he sought out just the right angle, causing a deep breath from Rosalie as he hit her sweet spot with precision.

  "No one else will ever have you. Only I can use you. Understand?"

  In some sick way he was claiming her, trying to manipulate her into wanting to stay with him- to live entirely for him without any question. But Rosie knew she wanted to stay with him, it was living only for him that she was afraid of- especially if he was blocking certain parts of him away from her.

  Tom's declaration sent a chill down Rosalie's spine as he continued to pound into her with an intensity that left her breathless and teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Tears welled in her eyes, a mixture of pleasure and overwhelming emotion, as she gazed up at Tom, his expression bordering on the edge of frenzy as he relentlessly moved within her.

  Feeling her body respond to his, Tom slowed his movements slightly, but Rosalie's desperate yearning demanded more. Abruptly, he withdrew from her, swiftly manoeuvring her body until he was positioned between her legs.

  Leaning over her, Tom brushed away a tear that trailed down her temple.

  "You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. " His words were sincere and laden with genuine admiration. Rosalie's heart swelled with a mixture of desire and submission as she met his gaze, feeling herself become increasingly consumed by him.

She was his entirely, her every fibre longing to be possessed by him.

"Please," she pleaded again, her voice barely a whisper as their eyes locked in a mesmerising exchange.

  "Beg for it." Tom's demand echoed in the air, his tone devoid of playfulness as he revelled in his dominance over her.

  Without hesitation, Rosalie obeyed, her voice trembling with need as she surrendered completely to him. "Please, fuck me. I need to feel you everywhere."  

  He paused and just watched her.

  "Please." She paused. "Please." She begged him, wanting to feel anything she could get from him- even if she wanted to feel his very thoughts and emotions, his physical touch was the closest she could get.

  Tom lent out and held her legs up, turning her on her front with a firm yet gentle touch. His hands trailed sensually from her ass to the curve of her back as he drew her nearer to him. With deliberate precision, his cock found its way to her entrance, eliciting a moan of ecstasy from Rosalie as he penetrated her depths.

  Driven by primal desire, Tom thrust himself deeper, each movement faster than before as he relentlessly pounded into her. With every thrust, he felt himself drawing closer to the edge, his body electrified by the intoxicating sensation of Rosalie's tightness enveloping him.

  As Rosalie's moans of pleasure filled the air, Tom's thrusts intensified, his name being moaned through her teeth furthered the raw desire ignited by her cries. With each passionate movement, he dipped deeper into her, savouring the sensation of her tightness enveloping him completely. He could feel her ready to be pushed over the edge, he lifted her legs, ensuring every inch of his throbbing cock was buried deep within her.

  "Good girl," he growled huskily, feeling her walls tighten around him in response, signalling her imminent release. Gripping her hips firmly, he guided her down onto him, his own arousal reaching its peak.

  "Cum on my cock, Rosie," he commanded, his words sending waves of ecstasy coursing through her body. With a gasp of pleasure, Rosalie surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, her entire being consumed by the blissful release as she bit down on her lip, her leg trembling from the intensity of being completely filled as she surrendered to the waves of pleasure coursing through her.

  The sight of Rosalie looking back at him, panting and pleading for release, fuelled Tom's desire to the brink. He knew he shouldn't indulge, shouldn't tempt fate by staying inside of her, but the primal urge to succumb was overwhelming.

  With one final thrust, Tom surrendered to the intensity of the moment, driving deep into her needy core and emptying himself completely. As he withdrew, his release spilled from her, evidence of their shared passion glistening between her thighs. She collapsed down onto the bed, Tom sinking beside her.

  He drew Rosalie close, his arm wrapping around her waist as he pressed her small form against his chest. They lay intertwined, their laboured breaths gradually steadying as they savoured the intimacy of their embrace, ignoring all other, more important things that they needed to talk about.

  It was a few moments before either of them dared to speak, afraid to break what they had spent so long building up.

  As Tom gazed down at Rosalie, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. Her eyes, the mesmerising shade of grey-blue that he couldn't get out of his head, they seemed to sparkle even in the darkness, captivating him completely. In that moment, all his worries and stresses seemed to fade away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. Lost in her beauty, Tom found himself utterly entranced by the girl lying beside him.

  "Please understand, I have my reasons for keeping you in the dark," he began, his voice soft yet resolute.

  Rosalie shifted slightly in his embrace, meeting his gaze with a mixture of affection and a desire to understand him. "You're everything to me. I need to keep you safe," Tom continued, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her skin.

  "But I am safe, as long as I'm with you," Rosalie countered, her voice filled with unwavering trust. Somehow, she could see in his guarded look that she wouldn't get through to him easily. It would take more than good sex and happiness to let her fully in to his dark side, so, she redirected the conversation.

  Even though it made her feel even lonelier.

  "Also, you're the one going to Madam Pomfrey for contraceptive potion if you're going to keep finishing inside of me," Rosalie added, her tone teasing yet tinged with a hint of warning.

  "Too bad, you feel too good," Tom murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke.

  "I may like you, Riddle, but I'm not having your baby," Rosalie replied firmly, looking up as his lips left her forehead, a hint of amusement in her voice.

  "For now," Tom countered with a playful smirk, leaning in to kiss her lips this time.

  Rosalie's expression shifted, though his lips were quick to back away, leaving her needy again. "Don't threaten me like that," she replied with a playful glint in her eye, the warmth of their banter adding a sense of ease in the moment that was a lot deeper, and a lot sadder than either of them let on.

A/N

daddyissuesdaddyissuesdaddyissues (for both of them tbh)

before you come at me NO she's not pregnant shes like 17 the fanfic needs more drama than a boring ass teen pregnancy