Thirty Six

Realisation

  Daniel shifted uncomfortably in the armchair of the Order's meeting room. Dumbledore sat across from him on the couch, while Lily stood by the unlit fireplace, staring out the window at the empty street beyond.

  "She never replied. To either of our letters," Daniel said, his voice tinged with disbelief and sorrow.

  Dumbledore regarded him with a mix of pity and disappointment. "I didn't ever believe she would go back to him. She seemed so certain she was over him—she said she'd marry me."

  Daniel looked down, rubbing his hand over his mouth, trying to steady himself in the dim light.

  Dumbledore sighed, watching Daniel's struggle. It reminded him too much of his own past, of the love he lost to ambition and the bitter consequences that followed. Rosalie's choice, to him, was just another instance of selfish ambition—aligning with someone who could bring ruin to the world. Lily remained silent, her face a mask of deep thought.

  "You failed, Daniel. That's all there is to it," Dumbledore said, his voice steady despite the life-or-death nature of their situation. Letting Tom reclaim his greatest weapon—Rosalie—was a blow he couldn't easily recover from.

  "I know," Daniel whispered, defeated.

  Dumbledore's expression softened, reflecting his own haunted past. "Just as I did at seventeen. I failed to keep Rosalie's father away from his ambition. Rosalie is the result of that failure. I should have seen it coming—I should have seen them both for what they were, but I..."

  He trailed off, disturbed by his own inadequacy. He had the chance to prevent both Rosalie and her father from falling into darkness but failed.

  "Tom wants what Gellert wanted. A revolution now—a war—could be catastrophic. We need another opening, another chance to reach them. Perhaps we can still convince Rosalie—"

  "You won't," Lily interrupted, her eyes still trained on the window. When she turned to face them, the room seemed to dim around her. "Tom didn't manipulate her into returning. She left because he killed William. She couldn't handle that, but she didn't leave because she fell out of love with him. That's not who Rose is."

  Lily sighed, the mention of William tightening her chest. She remembered their time at Hogwarts, how Tom had genuinely seemed to care for her friend. It was chilling to see someone so dangerous embrace love.

  "She'll never leave him. I doubt she even opened my letter out of guilt. She loves Tom, knowing exactly what he is and what he'll do. But he saw her for who she truly was and loved her more for it. He embraced her inner Grindelwald and nurtured it. That's why she's on his side and not yours."

  Lily crossed her arms, thinking about her friend. She couldn't blame her. If William hadn't changed his mind for her, she would have done the same. She paid for her morals with the love of her life, whereas Rosalie sacrificed her morals for love. It was admirable, in a twisted way.

  Dumbledore spoke again, his voice low. "I still have to try one last time. For her father's sake."

  Lily's fury erupted, her voice rising. "Are you saying she should make the same choice you did? Leave her lover for the good of the world? Do you know anything about love? Anything at all?"

  She walked towards them, her anger palpable. "It's pointless. If you want to win this war, you need to kill Voldemort. And Rosalie won't let you anywhere near him. She knows that. Right now, she's probably plotting your demise, Dumbledore. Because she loves him, and she'll do anything to protect what little she has left. Tom is her everything because she sacrificed everything else to be with him."

  Dumbledore leaned forward, his voice gentle yet probing. "It sounds like you still love her as well."

  Lily's anger faltered, her expression softening as she turned away from the older man, his glasses perched precariously on his nose.

  "Of course I do," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

  "She was always more charismatic, more loveable than Tom ever could be," Dumbledore mused, his tone reflective.

  He then fell silent. Daniel watched Lily, fear in his eyes, as he realised the truth of her words. Rosalie was lost to him forever. Albus stared at the ground, his hands clasped and his foot tapping.

  He had no idea how to win the oncoming war, but he knew he needed answers—and fast.

---

  By the time Rosalie and Tom got to the Malfoy Manor, the sun had set, and the grandeur of the house seemed more imposing and more visually striking than usual. The drop from apparation had Rosalie's stomach in knots again. She bent over, gripping onto the fabric of the black dress she was wearing.

  Tom leant over with her, pulling her back up straight and letting her put her weight on him.

  "Love, are you alright? Do you feel sick again?" He asked, looking at her rather worrysome. He already had prepositions about her attending meetings again, and this wasn't exactly proving him wrong.

  Rosalie shook her head and blinked a few times, pushing on Tom to steady herself. She turned to him, looking up and trying to mask her apprehension. "I'll be in in just a minute. I need a second. You get started." She said, trying to put a smile on her face.

  Tom's eyes softened with understanding. "Okay," he said, squeezing her hand briefly before heading inside the manor, opening a door to the left and walking inside.

  Rosalie lingered outside, taking a deep breath to steady herself. After a couple of minutes, she followed Tom into the mansion. The interior was as grand as the exterior, filled with the murmurs of important conversations and the rustle of expensive fabrics. 

  As soon as she entered the dark and dimly lit room that held the table of elites, she felt her heart racing again. These people knew who she was. What she had done. They were loyal to Tom like dogs loyal to their owners, and they all looked ready to bite. 

  Tom smiled at seeing her arrive, her eyes worried until she met his. Her shoulders left their tension behind the moment she saw him. She began to walk, but her eyes were quickly drawn to Capella, looking as smug as ever, sitting at the end of the table across from Ben, ninety degrees to Tom at the tables head. She looked far too comfortable for Rosalie's liking.

  The woman's gaze was locked onto Tom with an intimacy that sent a spike of jealousy through Rosalie's chest. She had never seen much reason to be jealous for Tom's sake before. But this feeling was new and fresh, and at the same time revolting.

  Was this how Tom felt the other day, when he had read the letter? It was horrible. It was terrifying. And it was something she could do little about.

  Capella's eyes suddenly flicked to hers, widening in surprise. The room grew quiet, and all eyes turned towards her. Tom looked at her, his expression unreadable upon seeing the look of seething hate she burnt into Capella's head. While the girl next to Tom grinned, Rosalie could see her arm moving towards tom under the table.

  Rosalie had remembered this, Capella's desperation for him, and it had her wondering if she had ever won his affection. The girl had a clear intent to touch him, and Tom could see that Rosalie had a clear intent of doing something to Capella by the grip she suddenly had on her wand. 

  Before Capella had a chance to provoke her further, Rosalie's wand was out in a flash. Tom's eyes widened, no clear idea what to say; if he should say. There were no words, no movement, just the hungry rage beneath her skin and the dark look on her face as Capella was shot with green light and thrown off her chair, collapsing to the floor.

  A servant rushed to Capella's side from the chair beside her, checking her pulse. "Dead, my lord," he announced.

  Tom's eyes widened in shock. "Rosie," he said, his tone a mixture of reprimand and reluctant admiration.

  Rosalie didn't feel bad about what she had done, but suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her. She clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted from the room, heading straight to the bathroom.

  She barely made it to the sink before she vomited, her guts out and vulnerable as she slowly thought about what she had done. She had just killed a girl, and thrown up because of it. Was it a bodily reaction? Then why did she feel absolutely nothing? No regret? Only joy that she was dead.

  Tom was behind her in an instant, brushing her hair out of her face. He held her gently, his voice filled with concern. "Merlins sake, Rosie. I shouldn't have brought you."

  She wiped her mouth, breathing heavily. "I must still not be used to seeing things like that." Rosalie ignored his last comment and breathed slowly.

  Tom's brow furrowed. "Why did you do it, Rosie?"

  Rosalie looked at him in the mirror, he touched her hair and had his hand resting on her back. He was here with her, and not with Capella. "The way she looked at you made me angry," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly.

  Tom sighed. "She was a valuable asset to us."

  Rosalie met his gaze, determination burning in her eyes. "Did you ever fuck her?" She asked.

  Tom stared at her, unimpressed. "No. I'm sure I've told you this before but you're the only woman I would ever think to touch. But she was still valuable. Her family-"

  "Will follow you whether they like it or not. Otherwise the same thing will happen to them." Rosalie interrupted him, turning to face him, cupping his head in her hands as she wiped across his cheek. She looked at him, supportive. Tom felt a strange surge of heat through him.

  Rosalie continued. "Now you have me, and you'll never need her again anyway." She assured him.

  Tom's expression softened. He kissed her forehead. "I love seeing you jealous," he murmured.

  Rosalie stood up, moving to wash her hands in the sink. Tom leaned against the counter, watching her intently. "Black suits you just as much as white does," he remarked, looking at the way the dress looked on her body. He couldn't keep his hands off of her. Everything she did, everything she looked like, turned him on.

  She smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes, and kissed him. Tom played with the hem of her dress and dropped to his knees in front of her, and she gripped his arm, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "There are people in the other room," she whispered, trying to keep him off the floor.

  Tom looked up at her, his eyes dark with intent. "Do you really care what they think?"

  "I care what they think about you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

  "Then the only thing they'll hear is that I worship you," he said, his voice low and reverent.

  Rosalie felt her entire body flush at his words, at the sight of him on the floor, begging to taste her. It was impossible to say no. She glanced up, silently apologizing to Merlin for the noises she was about to make, and let go of his arm.

  Tom was quick to lift her dress and duck between her legs. He wasted no time, pulling her underwear down to her ankles. His tongue traced up her legs, sending shivers through Rosalie. She placed her hand on the back of Tom's head, urging him to her core.

  He kissed each side of her cunt, taking his time, his tongue exploring her with deliberate slowness. Each movement was torture for Rosalie. She gasped as Tom circled her clit, gripping the sink and trying to muffle her moans with her free hand.

  Tom paused, grabbing her hand from her mouth and placing it back on his head. "I want them to hear you, love," he breathed, diving back into his task. He lapped at her, his hands gripping her thighs for support as his tongue delved into her.

  Rosalie whimpered as he brought her closer to the edge. He was so adept at giving her pleasure, knowing exactly how to push her to the brink. He leaned back, kissed her folds, then plunged back in, his hunger evident.

  Rosalie moaned loudly as he focused on her clit, pressing his face closer with her hand. Her back arched against the countertop, head tilted back in ecstasy.

  "Fuck, Tom, please, please..." she begged, her voice echoing in the bathroom. There was no doubt the people in the meeting room could hear them.

  Tom smirked against her, tightening his grip on her thighs. He wanted to leave marks as a reminder of her euphoria. He lapped at her more until she began to shake.

  "Please what?" he asked quickly.

  "Please let me cum! Please, Tom... My lord, please!" she cried, her body pulsating under his touch.

  Tom was happy to oblige, his mouth working at her until she struggled to stifle her moans. She came hard, her body trembling as she held onto the sink for support. Tom savored her taste one last time, taking everything she gave him.

  He pulled her underwear back up and looked up at her lovingly. Rosalie grinned, running her fingers through her hair as she finally began to catch her breath. Tom wiped his mouth, smirking up at her as she blinked slowly.

  "You taste amazing, darling," he said quietly, an intimate compliment meant only for her.

  The look in her eyes was praise enough. She bit down on her lip as she touched his face, unable to get enough of him. "Should I repay the favour tonight?"

  Tom slowly stood up and kissed the top of her head, keeping her in his arms as they began to walk toward the door. "Don't make promises you'll regret, love," he chuckled.

  They walked out of the bathroom hand in hand, the room falling silent as they entered. Ben looked at Tom with bewilderment, his head slightly shaking. Rosalie walked around him and took the seat where Capella had sat, her body already disposed of from the room.

  Her presence commanded attention, especially after what each of the forty something people had just heard coming from the bathroom. Each looked at her differently now, less with anger, more with curiousity. How had she managed to tame their Dark Lord?

  Tom glanced around the room,  happy with the outcome of their activities. His tone was authoritative as he spoke. "Let's begin."

  The meeting began, but Rosalie's mind was elsewhere, her heart pounding with a mix of triumph and lingering desire.

---

  The sun crept in through the blowing curtains onto the large bed Rosalie found herself in. 

  Rosalie reached to her side on an instinct as soon as she woke up to the morning sun casting a golden glow across the room, filtering through the delicate lace curtains that fluttered in the gentle breeze. She found the other side of the bed empty, sheets cool to the touch.

  She opened her eyes and noticed Tom's absence. She looked around the room but there was no sign of him. She dropped her head back onto the pillow and began resting back in, assuming he had something that needed tending too otherwise he would never miss a morning to wake up beside her.

  The room was filled with the scent of the lavender that grew in the garden just outside their window, fresh linen from the new sheets Rosalie had washed the day before, a start contrast to the slow unease beginning to build inside her.

  Suddenly, the wave of nausea hit her, sharp and unrelenting. She bolted out of bed, feeling herself bend over and barely touching the coolness of the bathroom floor before she found herself leant over the toilet seat. She coughed and let it all out, breathing heavily before reaching up to flush the contents of her stomach. 

  She slowly stood up, steadying herself against the wall as she began to walk over to the sink. She cupped the flowing water in her hand, rinsing out her mouth as she slowly began to take in the reflection of the mirror.

  Pale skin, tousled hair, her eyes widening in realisation. How many times had she been sick now? 

  Rosalie thought about it and covered her mouth again, gripping a hand into her hair as she walked out of the bathroom, hoping the freshness of the morning would snap her out of her own silly thought. It wasn't possible.

  Of course it was possible. The amount of times they fucked in a week.

  "Oh, Merlin, really?" She muttered to herself, a mixture of disbelief and anxiety flooding through her. 

  She glanced around the room, a little unsure of what to do next. Her heart raced, and in that moment, she was glad Tom wasn't there to see her—to see the uncertain look on her face as she questioned if she had done the right thing, if she could ever truly take this step in life with him.

  Feeling a mix of anxiety and determination, she hurried towards the kitchen downstairs, her footsteps echoing through the mostly unexplored halls. The grand chateau felt both like a sanctuary and a maze, each room holding secrets she had yet to uncover.

  As she moved down the hallway, she noticed one of the doors slightly ajar. Despite her trembling thoughts, she stopped, drawn by an instinct she couldn't explain. Hesitating for a moment, she gently pushed the door open and remained where she stood in the hallway, peering inside.

  The room was bathed in soft, natural light from a large window, its rays dancing across the wooden floor. The air felt still, almost sacred, as if it held its breath in anticipation. At the very back wall of the room, standing out in stark relief, sat a crib. 

  Rosalie's breath caught in her throat. The crib was beautifully crafted, with intricate carvings and a soft, pale blanket draped over the edge. She took a tentative step inside, her fingers brushing against the smooth wood. It was as if the crib was waiting for her, waiting for the life she and Tom would bring into the world.

  "Oh Tommy..."

  Rosalie felt her stomach turn again, clutching her mouth in a vain attempt to hold back the wave of nausea. She wasn't sure if it was creepily optimistic or endearingly hopeful that Tom had already prepared a nursery for them, despite not even being married yet. Tradition had never been her strong suit, but the thought of having a baby out of wedlock still carried a certain stigma, no matter how she tried to rationalise it.

  The house was eerily silent except for the distant chirping of birds outside, a tranquil yet unsettling contrast to the turmoil within her. She finally made it to the kitchen, her steps faltering as she approached the counter. Her eyes scanned the room, settling on a piece of parchment and a quill lying nearby. With trembling hands, she picked up the quill, the weight of the ink pen feeling unfamiliar and heavy in her grasp.

  She began to write, her thoughts jumbled and chaotic, struggling to find the right words. Her note was short, but it carried the weight of her confusion and determination.

Tom,

I've gone to see my father. Don't worry, please, It's something I have to do. I'll be back soon.

Love, Rosie.

  She left the note on the counter, the sunlight making its way through on the polished wood on the counter. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before apparating to Nurmengard, to her father, to answers that she desperately needed.

---

  Nurmengard was as imposing as ever, the guard had recognised her and let her right in, but despite such hospitality, its dark stone walls loomed against the overcast sky. Rosalie walked through the cold, dimly lit corridors, her footsteps echoing off the stone floors. She reached her father's cell after a few flights of stairs, the iron bars stark and unyielding.

  Rosalie sat down next to her father's cell, the cold stone floor beneath her sending a shiver up her spine. She could see him sitting inside, his once powerful presence now a shadow of its former self.

  "Rosalie, really, it's not worth it to get your dress dirty," Grindelwald remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he saw her sit on the dirty floor with him.

  "It's fine," she replied, brushing off his concern, though she knew he was right. The dress, a delicate, cream-coloured fabric, was now smudged with dust and grime.

  It was always so strange to see her father like this, so powerless and alone. It made her pity him, and made her feel as though he deserved something.

  He asked, "Why are you back so soon? Not that I don't mind the company."

  She sighed, the weight of her decision settling over her. "I made my choice. I chose to stay by Tom's side." She told him, deciding to get straight to the point rather than mull it over. Her father was never one to skip around subjects.

  Grindelwald smiled knowingly, his eyes filled with a rare softness. "I knew you'd choose right."

  Rosalie looked at him, still expecting him to say something different. "How are you so sure it's right?" she asked, searching his eyes, looking for the wisdom that had guided so many of his decisions, for better or worse.

  "Why are we given hearts if we aren't meant to follow what they tell us?" he replied softly, his voice echoing in the empty corridor.

  She found his words sweet and unexpected. She watched him move his position in the cell, he looked more than uncomfortable, more than exhausted. 

  "I can try and get you a nicer cell. I'm sure Tom could do something." She said, the pity in her stomach strange and unfamiliar for a man she used to hate.

  Gellert stared at his daughter, a crooked smile on his face as he tilted his head.

  "You don't need to worry about that, sweet girl." He closed his eyes and leant himself against the bricks that kept him out of the real world. "I can tell you've got more on your mind, so go ahead." He urged her.

  Rosalie thought about what she was going to say. She wondered if she should share the truth with him or if she should keep him in the dark forever, like he already was.

  "Dumbledore wanted me to kill him, and I wouldn't do it." She said.

  "Wouldn't, or couldn't?" He asked perceptively, one eye creeping open again. Rosalie shuffled her legs back under her body and scratched the back of her neck.

  "Couldn't." She admitted. Grindelwald only hummed at her.

  "He made me his horcrux, dad." She whispered, vulnerably. 

  Suddenly both of his eyes were open.

  "He did what?" 

  She shook her head. "You know what I said."

  Grindelwald looked at his daughter with an absent longing to understand her. "So you really, couldn't. The only way I would've ever been able to kill your precious Tom would be by killing you?" He asked simply. Rosalie nodded.

  "How cruel." He chuckled. Rosalie dipped her head.

  There was a long silence before Rosalie opened her mouth again, but her father beat her to the punchline.

  "No, I won't tell anyone. You're the only one to visit me anyway, dear." He tilted his head, his eyes gazing down on her.

  "What else are you trying to tell me, Rosie? I can see it in your face. You're afraid, but not because of a horcrux." He asked, and read her like an open book. Rosalie sometimes wondered if it was because they were blood, but she thought it was more just a talent than anything else.

  "I'm pregnant."

  Grindelwald fell silent and looked away from her for a moment the sky looking bluer than it had the last time he had looked. "Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

  "I can just feel it, I know it, and I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice trembling, the uncertainty of her future weighing heavily on her.

  He asked, "What are you doing here then?"

  "It felt right for you to know," she explained, her eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall.

  Grindelwald sighed, a deep, weary sound. "That's your problem, Rosalie. You can love even in the darkest places. You remember you hate me, right?"

  "I did. You were threatening to take me away from Tom," she said, her voice filled with emotion, the memory of those tumultuous times still fresh in her mind.

  "And now that I'm not, you're here talking to me as though I was the perfect father," he pointed out, his eyes piercing, his mind judging.

  She stood up abruptly, frustration bubbling to the surface. "That's not what I—" she started, but the words caught in her throat. She turned to walk away, the cold air of the corridor hitting her like a physical barrier.

  "Rosie," her father called after her, his voice softer, more genuine than she had ever heard.

  "I'm happy for you." 

  "You will make a good mother."

  She looked back briefly, her heart aching with conflicting emotions, before leaving, his words lingering in her mind like a haunting melody.

A/N

Sorry...

OK I KNOW NOT MANY PEOPLE LIKE THIS KINDA TROPE... BUT ITS NOT REALLY A TROPE I MEAN THE BOOK IS NEARING ITS END SO DON'T COME AT ME TRUST THIS ISN'T JUST GONNA BE ABOUT HAVING A BABY OKAY I SWEAR ITS GONNA BE MORE ANGSTY THAN JUST THAT PLEASE DON'T STOP READING 🙏

IT JUST MAKES IT MORE INTERESTING OKAY. And please, if you didn't see it coming by the amount of times Tom shoved it up inside of my precious darling main character then... idk what to tell you.

I love you guys anyway.