Thirty One

Passed Time

  26 St James's Garden Street was a charming five-bedroom terraced house spanning 3,509 square feet. Overlooking a beautiful church that was named the very street the house sits on, it was also owned by Daniel Allen's grandparents since the 1890s. However, now, the house was comfortably owned by only two people.

  Peering out from her window seat, Rosalie was wrapped in a loosely tied dressing gown, cradling a warm cup of tea and a book she intended to read. However, her attention had been hijacked by the fascinating sight of morning strollers passing by below.

  She gripped her cup of tea, a constant lump of fear in her throat as she looked at every face she saw. Fearing, or perhaps in the darkest parts of her mind, hoping, that she just might see Tom accidentally walk by. Rosalie knew how stupid she sounded, but after so much time with nothing but a small picture of her once-lover in her necklace was not enough.

  Two years changes a person. Passed time changes a person's heart and soul immensely. That was what she was taught anyway; what any person would tell her logically. So why, on a Friday morning, was she wondering if Tom's heart had changed over this passed time?

  "Honey?" Daniel called from their room upstairs. Rosalie looked up above her, imagining him tying his shoelaces and grabbing the briefcase she had packed for him this morning.

  "Yeah?" She called back, her sight slowly locking back down and past the windows. She heard the footsteps coming down the stairs and entering the living room. 

  Daniel fixed the cuff of his sleeve and took a hand through his short brown hair. He admired his pretty girlfriend, even in the mess of the morning, sitting completely stuck in thought looking out the window. He walked up to her quietly with a young and expressing smile.

  He slipped his hand gently onto her back, and Rosalie's gaze shot up to meet his, startled by his sudden presence. Setting her cup of tea down on the coffee table beside her, she rose gracefully to her feet, ready to greet him.

  "Hey, is it time for work already?" she inquired, flashing a warm smile as Daniel leaned in closer to her.

  With a tender smile, he pressed a light kiss down to her lips, his fingers caressing the back of her hair ever so softly. "Yeah, unfortunately. But tomorrow, I'm all yours," he replied, his affection evident in his gaze.

  Rosalie leaned into his shoulder, her playful side emerging as she reached out to playfully grab his arm. "And what will we do?" she teased.

  Chuckling, Daniel entertained her question, "Well, as much as I'd love to just have you in bed all day looking like this... I'm taking you out tomorrow night. A surprise."

  A mischievous glint danced in Rosalie's eyes as she quipped, "Well, it's hardly a surprise if you're telling me now."

  With a playful grin, Daniel countered, "And that's why the location is strictly a secret."

  "Alright, Daniel, get out of here before I use veritaserum on you," Rosalie threatened playfully.

  Feigning shock, Daniel protested, "You wouldn't dare."

  Their laughter filled the room as Rosalie gently pushed him towards the front door. Daniel complied, walking towards the exit, his hand firmly clasping Rosalie's before bidding her goodbye and shutting the door behind him.

  Rosalie skipped back to her seat by the window, her eyes following Daniel as he apparated off to work the moment he stepped out the door. Snatching up her cup of tea, she settled back into her spot, as if afraid to miss a single moment of her people watching.

  She was happy with Daniel. She knew that. Her love for him wasn't fabricated to make her feel better about losing Tom, it was real enough to enjoy. But in the back of her mind, tucked into the deepest corners of thought, she knew the danger, the fascination and the passion she once had with Tom wasn't there. 

  After two months of dating she had already moved in with Daniel and slid into this mundane reality of seeing him off every morning with a kiss and sharing dinner in the weekends. It wasn't passion, but it was sweet.

  Lost in her own head, time slipped away from Rosalie, until she finally snapped back to reality and glanced at the clock on the living room wall. Three thirty. She cursed under her breath, realising she was meant to be at work half an hour ago.

  In a hurried scramble, Rosalie dashed up the stairs, her mind racing as she rifled through her wardrobe. Clothes flew haphazardly onto the bed until she settled on a short, casual light yellow dress and a pair of heels, which she swapped into without hesitation. Tying her hair back hastily, she thundered down the stairs and flung the door shut behind her without bothering to lock it.

  She sprinted down the middle of the road, heedless of the traffic around her, her heels clacking sharply against the pavement. In her rush, she didn't even notice the gold locket slipping from her neck, its clasp worn down from years of use. She pressed on, determined to reach work on time.

---

  As the night wound down, Rosalie glanced at the clock and noted it was only 10:30. It seemed that muggles had a better handle on when to call it quits with the drinking, a thought that lingered as she finished wiping down the last table.

  "Sorry for being late today, Harry. If you want to dock it from my pay, I completely understand," she apologised to her boss, untying her apron as she spoke.

  Harry waved off her concerns with a grin. "Nonsense. It was just half an hour. You're far too pretty to punish, Rosalie. I really do have to take you out on a date one day," he teased, the scent of bourbon lingering in the air as he leaned against the bar.

  Rosalie mustered a smile, a half-hearted laugh escaping her lips at his gallantry. "You know I have a boyfriend, Harry," she reminded him gently, though her heart skipped a beat at the notion.

  "The Yankee, yes, I'm aware. He doesn't have to know," Harry replied, his voice taking on a deeper timbre as he took another sip of bourbon.

  "Thanks for the offer," Rosalie replied, her laughter tinged with a hint of discomfort. Harry chuckled along with her, dropping the subject for the night.

  "Alright, whatever you want lovey. I'm off to count the cash. You alright to stay out here?" Harry called over his shoulder as he made his way to the back.

  "Yeah, I'll manage," Rosalie replied, collecting the tea towels and adding her apron to the basket before settling onto one of the stools behind the bar, waiting for Daniel to pick her up.

  As she sat there, exhaustion began to settle in, mingling with her thoughts. She enjoyed her job, but her heart longed for the cozy bookstore in the heart of London she used to work at, a place that held dear memories of her past with Tom. Despite the allure of the spacious flat Daniel had offered, it was the little one-bedroom apartment she once shared with Tom that held the most sentimental value, though she dared not admit it, even to herself.

  "Hey, sweetheart," Daniel's voice broke through her reverie as he entered the bar. Rosalie stood and walked over to him, embracing him briefly before offering a tired smile.

  "How was work?" she inquired, trying to push away the creeping sense of unease.

  "Alright. I'm working on a new wand," Daniel replied, his words pulling Rosalie back to the present. 

  Instinctively, she reached up to her neck to touch Tom's locket, and as Rosalie's fingers grazed her bare neck, her heart skipped a beat before plummeting into the depths of panic. She cast her gaze frantically around the dimly lit bar floor. The soft glow of the overhead lights cast eerie shadows on the worn wooden floor, but there was no glimmer of her locket in sight.

  With trembling hands, she dropped to her knees, her eyes scouring every inch of the space around the barstools. Daniel looked at her with a sudden worry and followed, her. His voice calling her name completely blocked from her mind.

  Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she grappled with the overwhelming sense of loss. Rosalie felt her heart crack a little as Daniel got down on the floor with her and held her to his chest. 

  "Daniel, please," she sobbed, her voice choked with emotion as she turned to him for help. "I can't find it. It's gone." Daniel's brow furrowed in concern as he knelt beside her, his hand gently resting on her trembling shoulder. 

  "What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked softly, his tone laced with worry.

  "My locket," Rosalie managed to choke out, her voice cracking with anguish. "I can't find it. It's gone."

  Her words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the irreplaceable connection she shared with the piece of jewellery. It was more than just a necklace; it was a symbol of love, of memories shared with Tom, now lost probably forever. Tom was lost forever.

  Daniel's expression softened as he pulled her into his arms, offering what comfort he could in the face of her distress. "We'll find it, Rosalie. Or I can just get you a new one," he murmured soothingly. 

  But as he suggested replacing the locket, oblivious to its sentimental significance, Rosalie felt a lump form in her throat. "Daniel, you don't understand," she interjected, her voice trembling with emotion. "You can't replace it you cant replace-"

  Rosalie was about to speak Tom's name but she felt the very word catch in her mouth. She hadn't allowed herself to say that name out loud for two years. 

  "It's not just a necklace. It's the last thing that- It's all I have left-." She choked on her own words, but Daniel still wasn't able to figure out why the necklace was so important.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clung to Daniel, her heart heavy with grief and longing. In that moment, as she stood on the precipice of letting go of the last tangible link to Tom, she realised just how deeply intertwined their lives had once been, and how fragile the threads of memory truly were.

---

  Later that evening, Daniel and Rosalie found themselves seated at their long kitchen table, sipping on cups of steaming tea. Daniel gently held Rosalie's hand, his concern evident in his eyes as he asked, "How are you feeling, sweet?"

  Rosalie managed a weak smile, brushing off his concern with a nod. "I'm fine, Daniel," she replied softly, though the weight of her thoughts lingered heavily in her mind.

  Daniel tilted his head and placed the cup on the table, grabbing her hand with both of his now. "Are you sure?" He spoke, clearly not believing her. "Because a couple hours ago you seemed..."

  Hysteric? Rosalie knew, feeling the red embarrassment catching on her cheeks.

  "I'm fine now, really. It just meant a lot to me, that's all." Rosalie assured him, her eyes transparent and sparkling at her luck of finding someone so understanding. 

  Daniel had a pained look on his face when he spoke next.

  "He gave it to you, didn't he?" He asked gently, his eyes falling to the skin his hand was touching. 

  Rosalie's face faltered, her lip quivering as she asked, "Who?"

  "Your father. He gave it to you didn't he?" Daniel looked back into her eyes, gripping her hand tighter now that he couldn't see it. He watched as Rosalie pulled herself back together.

  She nodded gently, the sparkle leaving her eyes. She hummed softly and looked down into her tea growing colder by the minute. 

"  Yes. He gave it to me."

  "Don't you think its time to let him go? I mean... let him go how you let Tom go. Neither one of them were good for you. I of all people saw how Tom treated you. It wasn't healthy, keeping it in your heart isn't healthy."

  "I'm fine, Daniel. I don't need your opinion." She dropped Daniel's hand and held it to her head hoping to cure her oncoming headache, formed only because she knew he was undeniably right. 

  Daniel shifted in his seat, his expression growing somber as he grabbed his tea again to warm his suddenly freezing hands. He swallowed before moving topics.

  "I got a letter back from Dumbledore today." He began, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. 

  Rosalie felt herself pause. There was something about the man's name that made her want to crumble into dust. He knew everything about her, about her time spent with Tom; about her failure to change him when she said she could and she would. Had she given up?

  "About the order? Is he really... starting something?" Rosalie's voice was fragile and Daniel could see that, but he held back from holding her hand again.

  "He wants us to meet next weekend in Grimmauld Place. Apparently there's something urgent he needs to discuss." 

  Rosalie furrowed her brow, curiosity piqued. "Is it something new?" she inquired, her gaze searching his face for any clues.

  Daniel's expression darkened as he revealed the grim truth. "One of the Unspeakables from the Ministry went missing a few days ago," he explained gravely. "He held valuable information that they couldn't afford to let fall into the wrong hands."

  Rosalie sighed heavily, a sense of resignation washing over her. "I'm not sure why we bother," she muttered bitterly. "He'll never stop."

  Daniel's gaze softened as he reached out to her finally, his touch offering solace. "What would you do if you ever saw him again?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with concern. "Would you be able to... kill him?"

  Rosalie's heart clenched at the thought, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. "I... I don't know," she admitted hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I suppose I could, but... to kill him, I'd have to kill a part of myself too. It's impossible."

  Daniel had no idea her heart itself was one of Tom's horcruxes, but figuratively speaking, Daniel knew there was still a part of Tom that Rosalie cared for. She would have to kill that part of herself if before she could even dream to hurt him.

  Daniel shook his head, his expression one of disbelief. "Nonsense," he insisted firmly. "I don't know why you waste your time working in a Muggle bar when you could be greater than Dumbledore himself."

  Rosalie recoiled slightly at his words, her heart heavy with a sense of unease. "I don't want to be greater than Dumbledore," she murmured, her gaze drifting away as she struggled to articulate her true desires.

  She had seen what too much power does to a person. She didn't want that for herself.

  Daniel's grip tightened on her hand, his voice gentle as he reassured her, "Then what do you want, Rosalie?"

  Her mind whirled with uncertainty, her thoughts consumed by a longing for something forbidden. "I'm not sure," she admitted quietly, a sense of longing creeping into her voice. "But... I suppose I want some sense of normality, happiness, a family..."

  Daniel's expression softened as he leaned in closer, his touch offering comfort in the face of her uncertainty. "You have me, Rosalie, for now I am your family." he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

  A small smile tugged at the corners of Rosalie's lips, though a chill still lingered in her heart. She loved Daniel, truly she did, but the spectre of Tom still haunted her thoughts, a reminder of a past she couldn't quite let go of.

---

  The moon hung high in the night sky, casting its silvery glow over the tight streets as Daniel and Rosalie strolled hand in hand, their footsteps soft against the cobblestones. Rosalie's white dress fluttered lightly in the evening breeze, her red ribbon tied tightly around her wrist, the locket from her neck still missing, casting an empty feeling on Rosalie's chest.

  "So... I know how much you've been sort of.. out of it lately. So I decided on something perhaps a little dull but also a bit thought provoking." Daniel spoke as they approached the white building adorned with crawling plants and lights.

  The doors to the gallery were wide open, a steady flow of people entering and exiting in fine attire as a sign clearly proved their reason for being there.

  "An art gallery?" Rosalie asked, looking up at Daniel with sweet eyes, for an American he was extremely romantic.

  Daniel gripped her hand tighter and nodded, leading her to the entrance as he gave the night guard a slight nod of his head. They walked through the doors and awed at the long sight of hallways painted in paintings and sculptures. The deep redness of the walls reflected off into the light.

  Rosalie let go of Daniel's hand instantly and rushed over without much of a second thought to a painting of a girl in an empty field. She paused in front of it, feeling her hands gripping to her dress as she looked deep into the painting, the woman laying on the ground in a pink dress a little similar to hers, on the ground in a treeless, tawny field looking up at a grey house on the horizon.

  She could feel Daniel's presence slowly approaching from behind her. His hand slipped along her waist and she leant back onto his chest, still enraptured in the painting.

  "What do you like about this one then?" He asked, his voice soft as he could see how she was caught up in her own little world again.

  Rosalie looked at the loneliness of the girl in the field and felt pity for her. Something she could resonate with was how she felt like she was that girl; she fell in love with the field at Hogwarts. She'd give anything to go back there. But this girl looked like she was stuck, wanting to go somewhere else. So how could she see herself in this poor girl, looking away from the viewer?

  "It's just... quite beautiful." She finally said.

  "Like you."

  Daniel held her for a few more moments before giving her a kiss on the cheek. 

  "Will you stay here? I'm just heading to the bathroom." He spoke, slowly letting go as he watched Rosalie nod mindlessly, grabbing ahold of her own arms as she heard him walk away slowly.

  There was a sudden chill down her spine the moment Daniel's presence faded from the air. Unease prickled at the back of her neck. When she turned to move away from the painting, she could see shadows cast from  candles flames dancing along the walls, playing tricks on her mind as she glanced around.

  She wandered past paintings that seemed to watch her with silent eyes, lost in the labyrinthy of her thoughts. Her unease grew with each passing moment. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, looking over her shoulder expecting to see unseen eyes following her every move.

  As she made her way deeper into the gallery, her steps quickened, a knot of apprehension tightening in her chest. She felt as though she were being drawn towards something, an invisible force pulling her towards a secluded room filled with dark and haunting artwork.

  The air grew heavy with anticipation as she stepped into the dimly lit room, closing the door behind, her eyes immediately drawn to a sculpture at its centre—a man kneeling at the feet of a woman, his lips pressed reverently against her legs in a display of unyielding devotion.

  Rosalie's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the sculpture, her mind awash with memories of a past she had long tried to forget. The haunting beauty of the sculpture held her captive, and she walked closer reluctantly.

  The sound of the door opening and closing behind her shattered the silence, she suspected it was Daniel who had finally found her. She kept her eyes trained on teh statue for a little bit longer before turning gracefully, calling his name.

  "Dan-"

  She reached the mans eyes only to quickly find they weren't, actually, Daniel's eyes. Instead, her eyes met those of Tom, his presence casting a shadow over the room.

  Time seemed to stand still as they stood there, locked in a silent exchange of memories and unspoken words. Rosalie's pulse quickened as Tom began to approach her, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

  His eyes were darker since she had last seen him, his face sharper, older, more mature and like he had lost too many years to something dark and sinister. His hair curled beautifully, swept across his forehead attractively. It was Tom, and the truth of his presence was bitter in Rosalie's mouth.

  "Stop," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she backed away from his approach, her heart pounding in her chest.

  But Tom didn't listen. He continued to advance, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he closed the distance between them. Rosalie stumbled backwards, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she pressed herself against the sculpture, its cold surface offering little comfort against the heat of her fear.

  "Don't come closer," she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion as Tom reached out to her, his hands closing around her wrists with a vice-like grip.

  For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent embrace, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy in the air. Rosalie's heart ached with a mix of longing and regret as Tom leaned in to her.

  His hands detangled themselves from her wrists and circled around her waist, every touch along her body giving Rosalie more reason to hyperventilate. She arched her back against the sculpture as he dipped his head down without a word, his mouth begging to kiss her.

  Tom mumbled huskily, his breath hot against her skin, "You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He leaned in, seeking solace in the familiarity of her lips, and Rosalie, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, hesitated before reluctantly returning the kiss.

  As their lips met, a torrent of memories flooded Rosalie's mind, each kiss a bittersweet reminder of the love they once shared. But as Tom tried to deepen the kiss, his hands roaming desperately over her body, Rosalie's resolve hardened. She pushed him away, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and anger.

  "No," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she pushed away, her eyes filled with sorrow.

  But Tom wouldn't let her slip from his grasp. His fingers tightened around her wrists, a silent plea echoing in his touch. Two years had passed since he last felt the warmth of Rosie's embrace, and now, with her so close, he couldn't bear to let her go again.

  "You're not leaving again," Tom growled, his grip tightening on her waist. "I've been trying to find you for years. Only to find you're living in the arms of another man," he said darkly, his jealousy bubbling to the surface.

  Rosalie's yell tore through the silence, a raw expression of her pain and frustration. "I didn't want to be found!" she cried, her voice trembling with emotion. "I didn't want any of this!"

  But Tom's grip only tightened, his eyes flashing with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. In that moment, Rosalie realised that the past had caught up with her, and she was trapped in its suffocating embrace once again.

  "You should've thought about that before you said you'd marry me, my love."

  "That was years ago, Tom... I left you. I left you for a reason... You ruined my best friend's life. You killed one of my closest friends."

  "He was a traitor! I had to!"

  "And now I'm one."

  "What the bloody hell does that mean?" he asked, looking like he wanted to hurt her and devour her all at once.

  There was a long silence, and Tom reached into his pocket, pulling out the locket that she had dropped two days prior. 

  Rosalie's breath hitched as she caught sight of the glimmering gold under the soft glow of the room's dim light. She reached out, snatching the locket from his hand, holding it to her chest as if it were the last fragment of a fading dream. Tom watched her with a mix of fascination and disbelief, his heart aching at the sight of her pain.

  "Christina's world." He said skeptically. Rosalie's eyes jumped back to his in fascination. 

  "The painting you really liked. You wouldn't stop staring at it. It's titled Christina's world." He said with a softness she had forgotten he was capable of.

  Rosalie raised her eyebrows and breathed softly. "I like the name Christina." She said, her eyes averting to the floor. Tom kept his eyes trained on her, now imagining Rosalie naming their children instead of living with one of his enemies. 

  "How are you, Rosalie?" he asked softly and suddenly, a hard difference to his anger before. The bitterness of past grievances overshadowed by the intensity of her presence. His voice was laced with longing as he studied her face, searching for any hint of the girl he once knew.

  Rosalie's heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, memories flooding back with a tidal force. "I'm fine," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze averted. "I'm working in a pub for now." Her words hung heavy in the air, laden with the weight of unspoken truths.

  A bittersweet smile crossed Tom's lips as he asked, "Are you happy with your life?"

  Rosalie hesitated, grappling with the complexities of her emotions. "Are you?" she countered, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

  Tom's smile faltered, a flicker of pain flashing across his features before he regained his composure. "My happiness hardly matters if yours isn't in existence, Rosie," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret.

  "Well, I'm incredibly happy."

"  Why?" Tom pressed, his gaze piercing through her defences.

  Rosalie faltered for a moment, caught off guard by his persistence. "Why am I happy?" she repeated, her mind racing to find the right words.

  "Does he make you happy? Does he make you smile?" Tom's voice softened, a note of vulnerability creeping into his tone.

  "He doesn't make me cry," Rosalie replied after a long pause, her voice filled with quiet determination.

  The air between them crackled with unresolved tension. Tom's gaze bore into hers, his eyes searching for a flicker of doubt, a glimmer of hesitation. But Rosalie stood her ground, her resolve steeling against the storm of emotions threatening to consume her.

  They both heard Daniel's distant voice calling for her, a reminder of the life she had built beyond the shadows of her past. With a pang of regret, Rosalie realised that she couldn't stay, couldn't allow herself to be pulled back into the whirlpool of memories that threatened to drown her.

  She looked into Tom's eyes and felt the overwhelming surge of love she still knew she had for him. 

  "Tom, they're onto you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her words heavy with sorrow and regret for both what she hadn't said and what she had. "They know about the Unspeakable. They have more spies than you think."

  Tom's eyes widened in disbelief, his features contorting with a mixture of anger and fear. "How do you know that?" he demanded, his voice trembling with rage and betrayal.

  But Rosalie didn't answer. Instead she rushed to the door, looking back at him with sorrowful eyes before she disappeared into the night.

  "How do you know that?" Tom yelled after her, his voice filled with rage and betrayal. And in that moment, he assumed the worst—that Rosalie had joined the Dumbledore's order, and that their past would forever haunt them both.