Thirty Seven

Futile

6 Months Later - 1948

  After so many years of a life lived so dangerously and under constant threat, it seemed downright domestic for Rosalie to be shopping in the town square of Biéré on the Sunday markets. She trailed her fingers over the artichoke she was looking at, feeling for any impurities hidden in the indents and layers.

  She held a hand over her stomach, stifling in the thirty-degree heat that even the thin dress she wore couldn't help her. Rosalie tried to ignore the lingering feeling in her chest, playing it off to be the discomfort of the sub-saharan-like weather.

  Rosalie placed the artichoke down and picked up another, something about the brownness tinged around each layer put her off from the last. She might've been taking too long at the stand but she couldn't find it within herself to care. Passers-by took note of her hand on her pregnant stomach, each wondering where her husband was.

  Rosalie also would've liked to know, but after living with Tom for another half a year she had learnt to trust blindly that which she couldn't understand. The importance of it was that she knew he was safe somewhere, escalating new plans for the takeover of the ministry. And the further Rosalie got along in pregnancy, the less involved he felt she needed to be.

  She was fine with that, knowing she needed more rest now than ever. But it still felt a little useless to be here, planning what to have for dinner when there was clearly more to their life than just that. But ambition doesn't bode well with vulnerable states, and Rosalie was clever enough to know she was vulnerable and held something that a lot of people would like to get rid of.

  So when the tickling feeling at the back of her neck of someone watching her persisted, she placed down the second artichoke and turned herself around to look over the other side of the waist-high stall.

  Blue eyes locked with hers and suddenly anything that she could ever say or feel couldn't explain the gut punch in her stomach. Those eyes that once brought her a feeling of safety, or perhaps on occasion one of pity, now only had her subdued.

  "Rosalie." Dumbledore greeted from above across the vegetable stand. She could only see him from the shoulders up, which alarmed her in a way she hadn't felt before. Motherly instinct had her clutching her stomach, a dry spit in her mouth as she blinked at him.

  He looked at her with the same view, though not as worried that she would throw a curse at him.

  "Tom knows where I am." Rosie said, her words picked carefully and sparingly.

  Albus pinched his eyes together, trying to understand this new look on her. Glowing. Happy. Devoted. His eyes must've been deceiving because this wasn't how he had pictured her over the past few months. How could she be, when she had chosen wrong; chosen love over the rest of the world when the rest of the world had all the love she wanted and more.

  "I'm not here to hurt you." Dumbledore said so simply that Rosie couldn't believe it.

  "I'm just here to talk," he spoke and the threat vibrated in her ears.

  "Then talk." She said quickly, her eyes wide, her skin now cold rather than hot.

  "You act as though I'm a monster," Dumbledore said, his voice as flat and calm as the final wave passing over the Mediterranean, leaving a serene stillness in its wake.

  Rosie looked at him, watched the people walk past him with no idea who he was. A man with so much power was also no one at the same time. The sunlight danced on his shoulders as the covers along the streets of the market brushed against the wind.

  "Aren't you, though?"

  Albus's eyes met hers, and in that moment, he saw his lost lover's eyes staring back at him with such piercing rectitude that it haunted him. He averted his gaze, unable to hold the intensity of her stare.

  "I wonder," Albus began, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, "if you were to meet your seventeen-year-old self, would you be happy?"

  "She was a monster too."

  Dumbledore rubbed his fingers together, feeling the gritty dryness of the powder clinging to them. Her words cut deeper than the irritation of the powder.

  "And how can you be sure?" he asked. He had watched this girl grow up, go through the motions of maturing into a woman. Where had he gone wrong? What could he have done to prevent her into entering such torment. What could he have done, for Grindelwalds sake?

  "She was a part of this world, wasn't she?"

  "By that thinking, Tom is also a monster." The boy from the orphanage seemed like a different person now. Surely someone so young couldn't have done become someone due to set the world back so far?

  "He is." Her reply was simple. The words understood their own meaning and the simple air around them was still and at peace.

  "Then why?" He asked, his eyes still slightly drifted from hers. An unbearable sting behind his eye sockets prevented him from looking any closer.

  "Everyone deserves to love, to feel love, to be loved." Her heart pounded, her body warm.

  "Even monsters?"

  "Even monsters."

  Rosalie breathed, the silence then continuation of her words the only thing Dumbledore could comprehend along the noise of the morning markets. "Isn't that why you're still in love with my father?"

  He paused, any other words futile against the desolate truth. "Rosalie. It's been years. I'm not—"

  "There's no point in lying. I see it in the way you're avoiding my eyes. His eyes." She stared at him, daring him to stare back. Despite the subtle sting, he looked at her. His eyes.

  He exhaled slowly, the weight of her accusation pressing on his conscience. "It's haunting, isn't it?"

  "I know why you're here, but it's pointless, Albus." Her head was tilted, and her heart heavy for his desperation.

  "Don't call me that." His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. The sudden weight of his presence—of him standing right in front of her—became almost unbearable.

  "Does it seem too personal? But that's what we are, aren't we? Personal? With the question you're about to ask me, it seems a little personal." Her voice sounded like Tom's now, more venomous, more charismatic and alluring.

  "You're only a weapon to him." His voice turned soft.

  "And what am I to you then?" She asked, hair flying, eyes burning.

  "Daniel misses you."

  "That's pathetic."

  "And true."

  "Even so, I don't see how it should affect me."

  "You're the only one who can do it, Rosalie. Think about Lily. Think about Daniel. What will happen to them?" He spoke with the word of Merlin. The way he raised his hand in emphasis made it all the more torturous.

  Even so, she flicked her eyes down to her stomach, to the ring on her finger, to the subtle scent of his cologne still in his hair after spending the morning with her love. "I've chosen my side."

  "You're doing exactly what your father would've wanted." Dumbledores words were crafted to hit her, but Rosalie had changed too much, lived through enough emotional torture to let anything other than physical pain from this man hurt her.

  "For love, I would do anything. I'm just sorry that you picked the wrong choice."

  Rosalie's tone was harsh, bearded and prickly. They weren't just words from her, they were words from her father. The quiet shake of her head picked at the last of Dumbledore's humanity for the situation.

  "I loved your father, but he wasn't worth destroying the world over." He looked at her distantly. The stand suddenly putting them a hundred feet apart rather than the tumultuous three.

  "Oh, the regret and turmoil I see in your eyes, Albus. It's where you and I differ," Rosie said, her voice steady, as she saw the great and powerful man troubled by the remnants of his past love. Her confidence surged, knowing she held the upper hand.

  Defending himself, Albus swallowed hard. "There is still time to make the right choice. Otherwise, in a month's time, you could be in Nurmengard with your father."

  Rosalie stepped around the market stand, the fear she once felt evaporated in the midday heat. She approached Dumbledore with a determined stride, her basket swinging gently at her side, her fingers tracing the delicate fabric of her dress. His eyes dropped, focusing on the unmistakable swell of her belly, and he hesitated, the reality of her choices striking him deeply.

  "I have a blood pact with him, Dumbledore. You saw the cuts on our hands when we were together. I'm not a stupid woman. I wouldn't do that with just any man," she said, her tone unwavering.

  "I wondered if that was true," he murmured, his gaze still fixed downward.

  "I wouldn't have a baby with just anyone. Threaten me all you want, but Tom offers me a security you could never give. He would destroy the world just to save me, and he's not afraid of it. So don't you dare come to my home and threaten me," Rosalie continued, her voice filled with conviction.

  "Do you really want a child to grow up in the world Tom is trying to create?" Dumbledore asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

  "It's his baby, Albus. Tom protects what is his," she replied firmly.

  Dumbledore's expression softened with sorrow. "And what about what is yours? What about the world you want your child to inherit?"

  Rosalie's eyes softened momentarily, a hint of vulnerability showing through. "Tom is my world, Albus. And so is this child. That's all that matters to me now."

  The marketplace continued to bustle around them, the sun casting long shadows on the cobblestones. The silence between them was charged with unspoken truths, the weight of their choices hanging heavily in the air. Rosalie turned away, quickly apparating away from harm, leaving the artichokes, leaving Dumbledore standing there, surrounded by people yet utterly alone, the burden of his regret etched into his weary face.

---

6 Months Prior - 1947

  When Rosalie returned to the house, the chateau felt like a haven compared to the oppressive atmosphere of Nurmengard. She leant over her knees, stomach collapsing down on itself after the apparation. Rosalie clenched her eyes in pain but the ache soon faded.

  She took heavy steps back up towards the front door of the house, sun setting across the horizon by the lake to the left, trees casting long shadows on the water like the looming thoughts in the back of Rosalies mind. She had just admitted everything to her father every minute detail was laid bare for him to judge. And he hadn't judged. Not really.

  It was a strange discomfort, hearing him listen and acknowledge when she figured that he'd have his own ideas to voice on the matter. She had made it personal and her father had let her, listened to her, parented her. It made her feel sicker than she already was that she was bonding with a man she not just 3 months ago hated.

  She pushed open the heavy wooden door, the familiar scent of home immediately calming her nerves. The door shut behind her by itself, and Rosalie walked in, catching herself from falling more than once. At the sound of the door, Tom rushed down the staircase, moving to her side the moment she stepped into the entryway. 

  He grabbed her,  pulling her into a tight embrace, his hands trembling slightly as he held her. He grabbed onto her hair, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and anger. 

  "Are you okay?" He demanded, his voice strained as she pulled away from him, quick to grab his face with her hands. She knew that always calmed him

  But he was quick to grab her hand away from his cheek, holding it tightly, caressing it sharply. He shook his head.

  "How dare you put yourself in danger like that! You could've gotten hurt!" He tried to find it in himself to keep angry at her, thinking the situation so dire that it was necessary.

  "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me, he can't hurt me in there," She reassured him, her hands breaking out from his and gently cupping his face again.

  Tom leant into the feeling, his hands trailing down her backside till they sat comfortably on her waist. He looked more defeated now than ever. The way she could finish him with only one movement had always amazed him. 

  "But he might've, and then what would I have done? If you—if you—" Tom's voice broke, his fear and desperation evident in his gaze at her. 

  Rosalie shushed him quietly and pulled him into her embrace, feeling the tension in his body as she gripped onto his back. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, unsure how she had gone so long without being engulfed in his entire being. The longer she held him, the easier his breathing became, the more okay he began to feel.

  "I'm fine. Really, I'm fine. I'm not leaving again. Really, I'm not. Especially-" The words were caught in her throat and she swallowed them back down. She had already said the words out loud before but she wasn't sure she could do it a second time.

  Tom pulled out of her grasp and held her, looking down into her eyes with such affection and care that suddenly it would be impossible not to tell him. There was something deep in the way Rosalie shifted her head, closed her eyes and opened her mouth slightly that had Tom immediately worried again.

  "Especially what?" Tom asked, his concern deepening. He searched her soul for answers but her mind was blocked. 

  Rosie looked down, hesitating, the words heavy on her tongue. She was never someone to beat around the bush, she liked the truth. This truth was especially good, but there was something holding her back, a fear of the unknown that tugged under her skin threatening to rip her open.

  Did he really want her? Did he really want this baby? Or was she just a weapon to him? She felt disgusted at even questioning that because of the way his grip on her was so caring that it pinched her flesh, his eyes so adoring that it made her knees weak. She even felt unfaithful by just dipping in to what Daniel had said to her a while ago. 

  "Darling, you can tell me anything." Tom said, his voice barely a whisper. It was so quiet she might've missed it if she wasn't so enthralled by him. 

  "I know." She nodded, placing a hand on her chest, she felt his heartbeat; felt how real it was.

  She pursed her lips, "I'm just worried." 

  Tom pushed a piece of hair out of her face, his heart so complete that nothing could've made him happier in that moment. She was with him, he was loved, and he loved her. Tom knew her every taste, her every smell, her every movement, her every emotion. 

  He was so deep with this woman that it would've been impossible to dig himself out. But that didn't matter, he had thrown the shovel out of the hole a long while ago. Tom never wanted an out.

    Her hands were guided up by her conscious to wrap around Tom's neck. She craned her head up, closing their distance. She pursed her lips again, her eyes wide, her face worried and ecstatic at the same time.

  "I'm pregnant." She smiled flatly. 

  Tom froze entirely, searching every contour of her face, giving him time to process what she had just said. 

  "What?" Tom's eyes widened in shock, his grip on her tightening. Everything else seemed still apart from the smile spreading across his face.

  Rosalie nodded, feeling his smile catch onto her contagiously. Her eyes filled with tears of relief, her grip on his neck only hardened and she could feel every moment of happiness they had ever had build into their hearts.

  "It's mine?" His mouth opened, Rosalie could see his chest move more rapifdly up and down, and Rosalie had thought he had seen him happy before, but this was a new feeling, a level of elation that she had never seen anyone but him in this moment experience. 

  She nodded quickly, her fingers tenderly caressing his hair as she smiled softly. "Of course it's yours," she said, her voice steady and sincere. "You've been the only one who's touched me in the past couple of months." The words flowed out truthfully. The last time she had been intimate with Daniel was the night they were engaged, but afterward, she couldn't even look at him without feeling an overwhelming sense of regret. Her thoughts always drifted back to Tom.

  Toms face was so full of emotion it looked like he was about to cry. He bent his head down, grabbing her face as he kissed her with every tenderness that he had in him. Rosalie seemed different to him now, and the subtle glow on her face just proved to him that she was perfect, his angel in disguise that had just gifted him one of the greatest presents he could ever wish for. A family.

  Tom had never wanted a family. Not before he met Rosalie. Then he came to know her, to really know her. The way she would look at him, look at others, the way she thought only about the good, the way it just seemed to radiate off her like light radiated off of the sun. She was his sun, and all he wanted in life was to live under her light.

  And now it was different. Love was good, from Rosalie at least, other forms he could care less about. But anything given to him by his Rosie was good and kind and too beautiful for this world. 

  Toms voice choked with emotion when he leant out from her kiss, from her loving and familiar embrace. 

  "Thank you. Thank you." His chin shivered, and he fell to his knees, leaning his head against her stomach and gripping her waist. Rosie let him sit there for a minute, hands in his hair as he held her like nothing else in the world mattered apart from them. Then she fell to the floor with him.

  She held him close, resting her head against his chest, their hearts beating erratically in unison. 

  "You're happy, then?" She asked softly, her voice trembling with hope, and possibly fear for what came next.

  "Of course I am. You're growing another piece of me, of us." He said, his voice filled with love and wonder. "I'm not going to let you out of my sight anymore." Tom kissed her head and held her close to him. The initial excitement beginning to wear from his mind, his thoughts were more focused now.

  "He will grow up with loving parents," Rosalie promised against his chest, her hands gently stroking up his arms. 

  Tom felt his smile move back up again at the idea, "He?" Tom asked, grinning through a tear that he hadn't realised he had dropped. He moved quickly to wipe it away from his face, but Rosalie's hand stopped him, instead intertwining their fingers until their heat became one.

  The tear dropped from Tom's face onto the floor. And it felt good.

  "It's just a guess." She whispered back to him, staring at their intertwined hands. She smiled down, the future full of hope and new beginnings. They held each other tightly, the world outside their little haven fading away, leaving only the warmth of their love and the promise of a family.

---

1948

  Rosalie's pregnancy was now unmistakable, her belly rounding out at six months. Rosie had insisted on still coming to meetings, despite the trouble of travel and pregnancy that never went well together. Therefore, Tom now insisted on holding any meetings of importance at their home instead, a measure he claimed was for her comfort. 

  At first she thought it was too much, but she had begun not to mind; she enjoyed the proximity to Tom and the familiarity of their surroundings. The morning had been a mess for her, but seeing Dumbledore in the vulnerable state that she herself had once been in made her own struggles subside in the realisation that she had chosen right.

  Climbing the stairs of her own home to the meeting room, she moved with deliberate steps, one hand on the railing, the other on her stomach, she felt the extra weight at each step. She heard several of Tom's followers lingering behind her, stepping past her, their eyes casting fleeting glances but nothing else.

  It wasn't as though she could blame them for the reluctance even still. Many of them had thought Tom had gone crazy, first getting a wife, then a child to go along with it; especially this far along in the plan. They were a disadvantage to him, a weakness. And even though Rosalie had a reputation for herself as someone who could defend herself. It was useless when she stood next to Tom. She had learnt to ignore it. 

  As she got to the top step, Tom opened the door to the meeting room, anxiousness on his face at the lateness of his wife. His eyes immediately fixed on her, and his gaze shifted to the men in front of her, his expression darkening. He stopped the lot of them from entering. 

  "Why didn't any of you help her up the stairs?" he snapped, his voice cold and furious. All of them looked skeptical to even speak. Tom wasn't known for his generosity.

 Tom's anger softened into a semblance of a smirk as she pulled him away from the other men and into the room. "He looked at you in a way I didn't like."

  The men looked at her gratefully. If she was known for anything, it was her ability to calm their lord before he acted irrationally.

 "Look at me, Tom. I'm pregnant with your baby. I don't think anyone is stupid enough to touch me."

"You'd be surprised," he remarked, his eyes softening as they settled on her swollen belly.

  Rosalie rolled her eyes affectionately and leaned in to kiss him. "It's really fine," she reiterated, taking his hand as they moved closer to the table. Everyone began to sit down and quiet themselves.

  Tom helped her into her chair unnecessarily, his hand lingering protectively on her stomach as he sat beside her, his hand slipping onto her thigh under the table. The meeting began when everyone was seated. The topics were dark, uneasy for Rosalie to hear.

  Perhaps she had been blinded by her affection for Tom, but whatever discomforting topics he discussed—numbers growing, the progress of their takeover, hostages, killings—no matter how dark, when she looked at him, all she saw was the light around him. She saw the man who would be their child's father.

  Was this what Dumbledore had warned her about? Complete blindness and the inability to see anything but what you desire? It didn't seem all bad, as long as at the end of the day, Tom was coming home to her. 

  All of it seemed painless now. All the heartbreak, all the arguments and feelings wound up into this tight ball that was Tom Riddle. It seemed so easy now that her heart was set, like there was no wrong choice and there never would be as long as she chose Tom.

  So maybe she was choosing wrong. But did it matter? Was there really a goal in humanity? 

  What is right and what is wrong? Why should morality be so defined and concrete when it's intensely more complex than just two choices.

  As Tom spoke, his lips moved in sync, so charismatically, looking at each of his followers with such ambition and hope for him to achieve what he wanted; she wanted it for him too. She reached her hand under the table and grabbed his.

  As if in slow motion, she watched his lips falter, a small smile appearing on his face. For just a millisecond, he looked at her, seeing her beauty, the light in his darkness, and the answer to everything.

  He squeezed her hand back.

  And that was all Rosie could feel for the rest of the meeting—his squeeze, his pull for her. What was anything in this world worth if you couldn't have human connection? Didn't everyone deserve their soulmate? Rosalie listened to him, her other hand resting on her swollen belly, feeling the occasional flutter of movement from their child.

  "Is there anything else?" Tom asked, his tone signaling the nearing end of the meeting.

  Rosalie was snapped out of her trance, looking around the table. Everyone's heads were full, but no mouths dared to move. She looked back at Tom and felt the words slip out of her mouth without even realising it.

  "I saw Dumbledore this morning," she said, raising her eyes.

  The room fell silent. Tom's head whipped towards her, his eyes narrowing, his grip on her tightening. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"

  Rosalie looked around, feeling that this might have been a conversation she should've had with Tom alone. "It was just before the meeting. I was at the market," she replied calmly. "He didn't hurt me." She reassured him, holding his hand back.

  Tom's face didn't soften. His hand tightened on hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. His voice was low, trying not to make a scene. "I thought," he smiled, talking through his teeth, "that we discussed you aren't to leave this house unless you're with me."

  Rosalie understood his quietness and looked down, her mouth hidden by her hair. She spoke quietly. "It was only to town. I can protect myself," she said, self-assured.

  Tom looked down at her stomach, feeling vulnerable for having left her alone in such a dangerous situation. "He could've hurt you. He could've hurt the baby."

  "But he didn't."

  "We'll talk about this later," Tom said finally, his eyes stern, his anger hidden behind them. Rosalie looked away from him, already sensing his annoyance. "What did he want?"

  "He tried to convince me to leave you," she said, her voice steady, almost nearing a laugh as though it would be impossible. "To abandon everything and join his side."

  A murmur of anger rippled through the room. Tom's grip on her hand almost became painful, but she didn't flinch. His eyes blazed with protective fury. "What did you say to him?"

  "I told him that you are my world, Tom. You and our child." She glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of the followers, ensuring they understood her loyalty. "I made it clear that nothing he says will change that."

  Tom's expression softened, pride mingling with the anger in his eyes. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Good, not that you could even if you wanted to," he murmured, an insecure assurance in his words. "You did well, Rosie."

  Rosalie tilted her head, remembering something of importance. "But... there was something else he said that threw me off. He said that if I stayed with you, within a month I'd end up in Nurmengard with my father."

  Tom's face paled, the intensity of the revelation washing over him. His grip on her hand faltered, but Rosalie held him firmly, not letting go. From a few seats down the table, Ben stood up.

  "My lord, he's given us a timeframe, coincidentally."

  Tom's eyes darkened as he processed the information. "You're right. He probably didn't even realise it. It could be just a turn of phrase, but it means they've got something planned within the next month. Everyone has to be on high alert. I want their new base of operations found."

  The room buzzed with sudden energy, followers exchanging glances, whispering among themselves, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Tom's eyes flicked to each person, ensuring they understood the urgency.

  Rosalie watched him, her heart swelling with a mix of pride and fear. His leadership, his determination—these were the qualities she admired, but they also came with risks. She felt their child move inside her, a small reminder of the stakes involved.

  "Tom," she said softly, pulling his attention back to her. "We'll be ready right? They won't catch us off guard."

  Tom's eyes softened slightly, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a tender gesture. "I won't let anything happen to you or our child, Rosie. Ever. You should know that by now."

  With a final, reassuring squeeze of her hand, Tom turned back to the table. "Spread out. Increase surveillance. In Knockturn and Diagon alley especially, we've gathered things from there before. We need to know everything they're planning, every move they make. Report back to me with any findings immediately."

  The followers all agreed, speaking between themselves, determination etched on their faces. As they began to disperse, Tom helped Rosalie to her feet, his hand lingering protectively on her stomach.

  Once they were alone, Tom pulled her into an embrace, his forehead resting against hers. "I won't let him take you away from me," he whispered, his voice filled with a fierce protectiveness. 

  Rosalie smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair. "I know, Tom. We're stronger together."

  He kissed her gently, a promise sealed between them. No matter what Dumbledore or anyone else planned, they would face it together, united in their resolve and love.

  As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Rosalie felt a sense of calm wash over her. She had chosen her path, and she would walk it with Tom by her side, the dark to her light. 

A/N

Okay so I'm hoping that the time skips are gonna make sense, but the scenes in italics are in the past, the scenes not in italics are in the present; there are going to be a couple more scenes set in what happened during the early stages of Rosalie's pregnancy, then it's going to revert back to one timeline. Idk I'm just trying something out hopefully it makes sense. I wanted to put some happy scenes in the middle of the depressing ones... xx

So, for next chapter, maybe you picked it up in this one but they got married within the 6 months (FINALLY!!! SHE'S A RIDDLE!!!), so that's gonna be a big thing next chapter, and the end war with dumbydore is gonna go down soon too... so sorry in advance because my goal IS to make someone cry. 

Okay. goodnight. if you're IAMRIDDLING please comment wifey I miss you.