Forty

Tom

One Month Later

  At almost eight months pregnant, it was getting harder for Rosalie to walk anywhere. That was the lie she told unnecessarily to Tom to get him to keep his arm around her waist, or his hand in hers as they walked. Tom knew what she was doing, but he would have held her without the excuse as well.

  They'd had dinner in town, and now they walked along the side of the river, the moon casting a silver glow on the water, the cool night air a welcome change from the warmth of the restaurant. Tom's jacket was draped over Rosie's shoulders because she had forgotten to bring a cardigan, and he made sure it was snug around her. They made their way to a small bridge, the gentle sound of the river flowing beneath them and the stars twinkling above.

  Tom paused on the bridge, wrapping his arms around Rosalie from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but in the back of Rosie's mind, all she could feel was dread. Tom picked it up by the goosebumps on her forearm, his thumb tracing the small bumps gently.

  "Stop worrying, Rosie," he murmured into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "I'll be gone a couple of days, maximum after tomorrow. All I have to do is defeat Dumbledore."

  Rosalie turned in his arms, facing him. He paused, seeing the look of unease on her face. He gently cupped her face with his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.

  "You don't trust that I can kill him?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. If there was one wizard he feared, it was Dumbledore.

  She tilted her head, grabbing his face with both hands, her fingers tracing the contours of his cheekbones. "It's not that. I know you can if you try, but I'm not a gambler. I don't want to toss a coin, lie in bed staring at the ceiling at night wondering if you'll ever come back to me again." Her voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes.

  Tom tightened his hold around her, pulling her close, his heart aching at her vulnerability. "Rosie, listen to me. I will win. I will come back to you and our son. Nothing will stand in our way. But I need you to stay home, where you're safe. Knowing you're out of harm's way is what makes me strongest. If anything happened to you..." His voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought, his eyes darkening with fear.

  Rosalie shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Tom, I never thought I would say this, but I want to be used as a weapon for you. I can help. Please, let me help."

  Tom's expression softened as he kissed her gently, his lips lingering on hers, savouring the moment. "No, Rosie. You're my life. I need you to be safe. I need you to stay here." His voice was firm, resolute, as he held her tighter.

  She kissed him back, her tears mingling with the kiss, her heart aching with the weight of their love. She hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder, her voice a desperate whisper. "Please, baby, you need to be safe more than me. Please be careful."

  Tom kissed her forehead, then leaned against it, his hand resting on her swollen belly. He smiled as he felt the baby kick, a gentle reminder of the life they had created together. "Have you thought of a name yet?" he asked, his voice tender, filled with love.

  Rosalie nodded, a small smile breaking through her tears. "I have an idea."

  "Tell me," Tom urged, his eyes searching hers, his heart longing for the future they had planned. A future he could only imagine if she was there, a mother to his children, a soulmate to him.

  "I'll tell you after you win and come home to us," she said, her voice filled with hope and determination, and a secret plan brewing in her own head, her eyes shining with love.

  Tom's breathing quickened, and he hugged her tightly, his heart pounding with the intensity of his emotions. "I love you."

  She held him close, feeling the strength of his love and resolve, her own heart echoing his words. "I love you too, Tom. Just come back to us."

  As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of the impending battle hung heavy in the air. But in that moment, they found solace in their love, drawing strength from the bond they shared and a bond never meant to be broken.

---

  Tom stirred from his sleep, feeling the warmth of Rosie's body nestled in front of his. Her breathing was soft, and even, her face serene in the early morning light. He looked at her, her head resting on his chest, her hair spread out like a light halo. He could feel the allure of staying where he lay forever, with her in her arms until the day they died just to protect her from the outside world. 

  He brushed his hand down over her stomach, his hand resting lightly, feeling the movement. He wasn't exactly sure what this baby meant to him. To him alone it meant nothing. To them together, their son was everything, he would be living proof that Tom Riddle had loved Rosie Riddle. 

  It was that duty to his wife that had his hand retreating from her stomach without waking her. The desire to protect someone at this moment was more potent than any motivation of hatred he had ever relied on before. His protection was his confidence, her safety his victory. 

  Tom leant over, daring not to wake her, kissing her head so gently that his lips barely touched her temple before retreating. The scent of her sweet hair filled his senses, the movement of her eyebrows as her body sensed him moving away consumed him. Tom knew that if he had to say goodbye to her, he might decide otherwise from going. 

  Slowly, he eased away from her sleeping form, careful not to wake her. He dressed in new clothes, the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders. Standing by the door, Tom looked back at her beautiful sleeping face, committing every detail to memory. 

  Rosalie shifted under the sheets, her arms coming up to her head as she moved comfortably to the pillow, her mouth twitching. Tom could see her now in his dreams if he so pleased it, every muscle memory and instinct that his wife had he had learnt, watching her wasn't something he'd ever be willing to give up.

  A few minutes later his hand slid down to his left pocket, lifting the heaviness of the crystal that was usually sat there, that he held onto every day like it was a piece of him. He'd had it for at least three years he figured now. Maybe four. A simple, silly gift that Rosalie had gotten him as a gift that now held a piece of her soul, it was another line of defence, another promise of security for him.

  He looked at it in the light for a moment, its grey colouring reflecting off rays of sunlight before he took a few steps forwards and placed it on his bedside table. The weight in his pocket gone, uncertainty filling it instead. 

  It was safer here. She was safer here, protecting her own horcrux rather than him. He didn't want her protection, only her love. And how would he be given her love if she was gone?

  With a final, lingering glance, he closed the door lightly and apparated away.

---

  Rosalie woke later, her body succumbing to the tiring conversation she had with Tom last night. Her body ached, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach as she rolled over, reaching for the absent warmth of Tom. Panic set in when she felt the cold, empty sheets beside her.

  Sitting up quickly, Rosalie's eyes darted around the quiet house. She moved off the bed, her mind slowly piecing together what Tom had done, where he had gone, and what he was about to face. The familiar pit of dread settled in her stomach, telling her something was horribly wrong. She wasn't going to let Tom face it alone.

  She dressed quickly, her hands trembling. She steadied herself against the doorframe, glancing past the horcrux on the bedside table without noticing it. The pressing weight of her responsibilities lingered in the background: the hunger gnawing at her stomach, the throbbing pain in her temple, and the baby kicking within her.

  Rosalie rushed outside, scanning the grounds and the dark surface of the lake in the early morning light. Her stomach twisted again, and she glanced down at it with a grimace. She held her belly, imagining her child staring back up at her, needing protection.

  Protecting herself was protecting him, but protecting him meant protecting everything. The danger in her mind tempted her to stay back, but she had never been one to flip a coin when it came to Tom's safety. She brushed her fingers over the gold band on her ring finger, taking a deep breath.

  Rosalie had left her father because she was tired of being told to fight. She didn't care who was hurt; she wouldn't do it. But now, she stood there, contemplating risking everything she had built to ensure the one person she loved in this world would never be hurt.

  She felt her heartbeat. His heartbeat. She could feel his soul within her, a second wave behind her own. Inside her, he was calm, unangered, in his purest form. She was where he was meant to be, always and forever.

  Rosalie placed her hand on her stomach again, her chin trembling. "I'm sorry, little one. I have to protect your daddy over anything else, even with the risk. I hope that one day, if that day comes, you'll grow up, love someone like I love him, and understand what it means to protect someone fiercely."

  Her hand dropped, and Rosalie looked to the sun one last time before the tiles of the Ministry of Magic patterned into view, the darkness foreboding, the light green and dim. She gripped her wand through the apparition, the dropping feeling in her stomach becoming more bearable even while pregnant.

  Rosalie's head lowered as she looked around the Ministry, its eerie and desolate nature comforting her back into discomfort. Everything looked pristine, the fountain behind her the only sound reverberating off the walls of dark marble.

  Though she had never been here before, she could tell that this deep quiet was the calm before the storm. The evacuation was obvious, and Rosalie hurried to the first elevator she saw.

  She read the inscriptions on the buttons quickly, pressing the second from the bottom. She descended rapidly, her body jolting forward as the elevator swung backward and then down again. The door opened paradoxically slowly, the silent ding and the flickering yellow light from the elevator filling the darkness of the senseless room now before her.

  Devoid of any light, she stepped into the room, the pit in her stomach digging deeper as her heels clacked against the tiles. The elevator door closed, and the last ray of light disappeared behind her. She lifted her wand, stretching the light at the tip out into the room enough to see where she was walking.

  Rosalie could hear her own breath, feel her heartbeat, and smell her fear. Had she been too late?

  The sudden touch of a hand at her mouth had her eyes widening, her throat screaming muffled against the hand as the figure behind her dragged her backward and quickly behind another door with a familiar harshness. As soon as the door closed behind them, she turned and held her wand to the culprit.

  Ben stared at her, disappointment and boredom present in his lingering gaze, his mouth remaining in its usual straight line. Rosalie faltered, her wand still raised, the light glaring into the man's face, the slight stubble on his chin now illuminated against his short curls.

  Rosalie looked away, unsettled by the event and his silence.

  "What—"

  Ben raised his finger to her mouth to shush her. His eyes were cold and unaffectionate as usual. He dropped his finger from her lips, raising his own wand. He moved it in a circle, a silent crackling sound covering the walls of the room before he dropped his wand, the lights flickering on the moment he looked at her again.

  "We can speak now," he said simply.

  "Are they here?" Rosalie asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the situation pressed down on her.

  Ben nodded, his expression grim and shadowed in the dim light. "The Order has already arrived. They somehow knew we were coming. Any element of surprise is gone. The battle has begun."

  Rosalie's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing her growing anxiety. "I have to find Tom," she declared, her voice gaining strength with determination.

  Ben's hand shot out, grabbing her arm with a firm but not painful grip. His eyes bore into hers with a mix of concern and frustration. "You can't go out there, Rosalie. It's too dangerous."

  "I don't care," she snapped, wrenching her arm free. Her eyes blazed with resolve. "I can't just sit here and do nothing."

  Ben sighed, the sound weary and heavy. It was a rare show of emotion for him. "If you get caught, or worse, killed, what do you think that will do to Tom? You need to think about him, about your baby. And me. He would kill me."

  Rosalie's resolve wavered for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty, but she steeled herself, her jaw setting in a stubborn line. "I am thinking about them. Tom needs me. I can't leave him to fight alone. You know I'm capable of protecting myself. You know what I can do, Ben."

  Ben hesitated, his expression torn between duty and concern. Before he could reply, the heavy door burst open with a resounding crash. Rosalie's heart leapt into her throat as Tom stormed into the room.

  "A few of you need to go upstairs and kill those bastards!" Tom's voice was a low growl, filled with fury as he directed his ire toward a tall, red-haired man cloaked in black. The man trembled under Tom's gaze, his eyes wide with fear.

  Tom leaned in, his wand pressed threateningly against the man's throat. "I thought I told you to deal with that, Finneas. Take this as a warning. Win the upper floors for me, or you won't have a family to go back to in the morning." He dropped his wand from the man's neck, scanning the room until his eyes locked onto Rosalie.

  His expression shifted from livid anger to a mix of surprise and fury. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice shaking with barely contained emotion.

  Rosalie's own annoyance flared upon seeing him. She crossed the room quickly, her steps echoing in the now-silent space. The men parted for her, their eyes wide with shock as she approached their lord. Without hesitation, she raised her hand and delivered a hard, fast slap across his face.

  "You left me without even saying goodbye!" she cried, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

  Tom's eyes blazed with anger as he held himself back. "Everyone, leave and get in position!" he ordered, his voice cutting through the tension. The Death Eaters scattered, their departure leaving the room eerily quiet. Ben lingered the longest, his disdain for Rosalie still evident on his face as he finally left.

  As the door closed behind them, the tension in the room intensified. Tom and Rosalie faced each other, their emotions raw and unfiltered. Tom's face twisted with anger as he pushed Rosalie against the wall, his grip tight on her wrists. "Why the fuck did you do that? You know better than to do that in front of my followers." he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper.

  "You left me," she repeated, tears welling in her eyes. His grip tightened, and she winced. "Tom, that hurts."

  Immediately, guilt flashed in his eyes, and he released her. "You need to go home, now. Dumbledore hasn't arrived yet, but he could be here any second."

  "I'm staying," she said firmly, her voice unwavering.

  Tom's expression softened for a moment, his desperation clear. "Merlin help me, Rosie, I will have Ben drag you home to keep you from harm. Just listen to me!"

  She slapped him again, and he grabbed her neck, staring down at her. "On our wedding night, I made a vow to protect you. I will not now or ever break it." He released her, his hands trembling. "Go home, now."

  She shook her head, her anger matching his. "I can't leave you."

  "NOW!" he screamed, the desperation in his voice echoing off the walls, reverberating with a mix of fear and fury. Rosalie hesitated, her heart pounding. Then, with one last aggressive stare, she rushed out the door without looking back.

  The door slammed behind her with a resounding crash. Her heels clacked against the tiles angrily, each step punctuated by the swirling black fabric of her dress trailing behind her like a storm. Every corner she turned only fuelled the fire in her stomach, the tension and anxiety coiling tighter with every step.

  The further she went, the louder the sounds of battle grew. Spells whizzed through the air, their magical energies crackling with deadly intent. She could hear the shouts and grunts of combatants, the clash of magic against magic, and the occasional explosion that shook the very foundation of the Ministry. Rosalie knew she was getting closer to the heart of the conflict.

  She skidded to a halt as she reached a new corridor, her breath catching in her throat. There, past another doorway, she could hear a familiar voice. The high, determined pitch cut through the cacophony of battle like a beacon.

  "Lily?!" Rosalie screamed, her voice breaking with a mixture of relief and terror.

  She sprinted down the corridor, her heels barely touching the ground. The hallway seemed endless, but finally, she burst into the connecting courtyard. The walls rose impossibly high around her, dark and foreboding, with a distant light filtering down from a barely visible ceiling. At the centre of the courtyard stood an imposing statue of Merlin, his stone eyes gazing down on the chaos below.

  Behind the statue, Rosalie saw her friend fiercely battling a gnarly, dark-bearded man she recognised as a member of the Carrow family. Lily's wand movements were sharp and precise, her face a mask of concentration and determination as she dodged and countered Carrow's attacks.

  Rosalie's heart ached seeing her friend in danger. "Lily!" she called out again, her voice mixed with urgency. She watched as Lily blocked a particularly nasty curse with a shield charm, her eyes briefly flicking to Rosalie before refocusing on her opponent.

  Carrow laughed, a cruel, guttural sound that sent chills down Rosalie's spine. "You can't keep this up forever, traitor," he sneered, his wand emitting a sickly green light.

  Lily's eyes blazed with defiance. "I can and I will," she spat back, her wand slashing through the air as she sent a powerful Stupefy curse towards him.

  Rosalie didn't hesitate. She raised her wand, aiming at the Carrow from behind. She threw expelliarmus at him without opening her mouth, holding herself back from the killing curse. She was meant to be on his side, but not when he was trying to hurt Lily.  The spell hit Carrow's hand, sending his wand flying through the air.

  Lily took the opportunity to launch a binding spell, ropes of magical energy wrapping around Carrow, immobilising him. The man struggled, his face contorted with rage, but he couldn't break free from the bindings.

  Lily rushed over to Rosalie, her chest heaving with exertion. "Rose, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice a mix of relief and frustration.

  "I had to find Tom," Rosalie replied breathlessly, her eyes darting around the courtyard. "But I heard you fighting and I couldn't just leave you."

  Lily gave her a quick, fierce hug. "Thank you," she said, her voice softening. "But you need to go. Now. I have a feeling that they're after you... they know rose. Somehow they know. This place is a war zone."

  Rosalie's breath caught in her throat and she knew exactly what she know meant, and realised just how dangerous of a situation she had put herself in. Maybe Tom had been right. If he were killed, if his horcruxes failed, it was worse than they thought. She knew nothing about toms other horcruxes, he always failed to tell her. probably with the thought of protecting her even if it sounded so stupid.

   Rosalie's voice trembled slightly. "I just... I couldn't stay away."

  Before they could say more, a bright flash of light illuminated the courtyard. Both women turned to see more figures appearing, their robes billowing as they entered the fray. Order members and Death Eaters clashed in a chaotic dance of spells and curses, the air thick with the scent of magic and fear.

  A sudden sound of a curse whizzing past her head brought Rosalie back to the present. From the darkness of the corridor emerged a figure she didn't expect to see. A man from the Black family, his face contorted with anger, his grip on his wand white-knuckled, approached with terrifying speed.

  Rosalie pushed Lily out of the way, gripping her wand tightly. But everything seemed futile, the world slowing to a crawl as she struggled to react. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a tangle of regret and fear. She had killed someone in cold blood, and now, it felt like karma had come to claim its due. This was her punishment, the price of her anger: to be the victim of someone else's revenge, a revenge that felt well-deserved.

  In that moment, nothing and everything made sense. Her moral compass felt skewed, and Tom seemed distant, almost irrelevant. The world was a blur, her senses dulled, until suddenly, Tom was beside her, his presence electrifying the air. He threw a counter-curse at the Black family man, and in an instant, his foe's face transformed from anger to eternal sleep.

  Rosalie couldn't hear anything, her senses still muffled and dulled, until she felt Tom's hands gripping her shoulders. His face was mere centimetres from hers, his mouth moving, but she couldn't make out the words. She dropped her hand to her stomach and felt a kick. Her son. She smiled manically, the sensation snapping her back to reality.

  Tom's mouth closed, his head shaking as he grabbed her face, forcing her to focus on him. And suddenly, she could hear again.

  "What in the world were you doing? Rosie? Do you hear me? Fucking answer me!" His voice was a mixture of anger and desperation.

  "Huh?" She stared at him, disoriented.

  "You looked like you were about to let yourself get killed!" His hands tightened on her face, his eyes searching hers for an explanation.

  "I wasn't—I didn't—" She stammered, her mind still reeling.

  Tom shook his head, his anger fading as relief took over. He could see she was okay, but he knew she needed to get out of there. He took her in his arms despite the chaos around them. He lifted his head and whispered urgently in her ear.

  "Is it safe?"

  She pulled away slightly, confusion evident on her face. "Is what safe?" she asked quietly.

  Tom's neutral frown deepened, his eyes boring into hers. "The crystal," he said.

  Rosalie felt her blood run cold. Had she missed something? She knew which crystal he was talking about, but something was terribly wrong. Her heart pounded in her chest as the realisation dawned on her.

  "The crystal," she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. She glanced around, her eyes wide with fear. "Tom, I—I don't know. I thought—"

  Before she could finish, a loud crash echoed through the courtyard, followed by another burst of spells. The battle was intensifying, and they were running out of time.

  Tom's grip on her tightened. "You need to go home right the hell now, Rosie."

  Before Rosalie could answer, she felt a shift in the air, a chilling presence that sent a shiver down her spine. From the depths of the courtyard, Dumbledore emerged. His suit was grey and pristine, his hair smoothed back, and his stare nothing but devastated.

  For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Rosalie's heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear and heartbreak threatening to overwhelm her. Dumbledore, a man she had once trusted implicitly, a beacon of hope and wisdom, was now a harbinger of doom. His presence here meant one thing: he was here to kill Tom. Or so they thought.

  "Get behind me!" Tom shouted, his voice breaking the spell.

  Rosalie tried to apparate, but nothing happened. Dumbledores presence had done something. Blocked a number of spells. Panic rose in her voice as she said, "I can't apparate."

  Her mind raced, memories flooding back of all the times Dumbledore had been a guiding force in her life. She had trusted him, believed in his vision of a better world. But now, seeing him here, knowing he intended to take Tom from her, shattered something inside her. The man who had once been her mentor was now her enemy.

  Fear gripped her heart as she thought about losing Tom. The very idea was unbearable. He was her world, her anchor in the storm of chaos that surrounded them. Without him, everything would crumble. She couldn't let that happen. Not to him, not to their unborn child.

  "Rosalie, stay close," Tom commanded, his wand raised, ready to defend them both. His face was a mask of determination, but she could see the fear in his eyes too. He was terrified of losing her, just as she was of losing him.

  Dumbledore's approach was slow, deliberate, his eyes fixed on Tom. The weight of his gaze was suffocating, and Rosalie could feel the power emanating from him, a tangible force that pressed down on her. She knew Dumbledore was a formidable opponent, and the odds were stacked against them in their current state. He knew everything.

  "Go," Tom said quickly before retreating from the compromising area. His grip on Rosalie's hand tightened as he pulled her through the mayhem. Spells flew in every direction, their deadly brilliance lighting up the chaotic scene. Tom deflected curses with swift precision, sending them back with lethal accuracy. Rosalie clung to his right hand, her heart pounding in her chest.

  Their path was a blur of frantic movement and searing flashes of light. The air smelled of burnt ozone and fear. Tom's face was set in grim determination, his jaw clenched tightly. He was her protector, her anchor in this storm of magic and violence.

  Suddenly, a curse hit their joined hands. The force of it sent a jolt of pain through Rosalie, breaking their grip and sending her sprawling to the floor. Her vision blurred, the world spinning as she tried to orient herself.

  Tom dropped to his knees beside her, his eyes wild with worry. "Rosie, are you okay?" he asked urgently.

  Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the chaos. "Look at me, Voldemort!"

  Tom's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing in sudden hatred as he locked onto the source of the voice. Rage twisted Tom's features, his fury palpable. He deflected another spell, then surged to his feet, rushing toward Daniel with murderous intent.

  Rosalie struggled to her feet, her body trembling from the impact. She scanned the courtyard, her mind racing, but she paid no attention to Tom and Daniel. She knew in any fight who would win. The only question that mattered on her mind was where Dumbledore was. The thought of him filled her with a sickening dread. She knew he was close, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

  She forced herself to focus, her survival instincts kicking in. She had to help Tom. She couldn't leave him to face this alone. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape route or a way to turn the tide in their favour.

  The corridor to her right seemed to offer a brief reprieve from the chaos. She sprinted towards it, her heels echoing off the stone floor. Her thoughts raced as she ran, piecing together the dire situation. The Floo powder shoots were blocked off, their only means of escape cut off. The Blacks must have informed Dumbledore of their plan, ensuring there was no way out.

  She skidded to a halt, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She couldn't leave Tom. She had to find a way to help him. Steeling herself, she turned back, determination hardening her resolve.

  As Rosalie reentered the courtyard, the scene before her was one of utter destruction. Spells clashed violently, casting eerie, flickering shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of burning and the acrid tang of fear. Tom was locked in combat with Daniel, their wands flashing in a deadly dance, their faces contorted with fierce determination.

  Rosalie's heart ached as she watched Tom fight, every muscle in her body tensed with worry. She couldn't stand by and do nothing. Summoning all her courage, she raised her wand and stepped forward, ready to protect the man she loved. She knew Dumbledore would come to her, and she would be ready.

  A sudden movement caught her eye. From the shadows, Dumbledore again emerged, his presence commanding and ominous. His eyes, once filled with wisdom and kindness, now bore a sorrowful determination that sent a wave of cold fear through Rosalie. This was the man she had once trusted implicitly, but now he was here to kill Tom, to destroy everything she held dear.

  Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the battle seemed to pause. Rosalie held out her wand, staring at him. He stared back, his wand drawn.

  "This could've gone so differently, Rosalie," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with regret.

  "It never could have," she replied, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "I've loved someone too much and you too little. We were always going to be on different sides of an eternal war."

  Dumbledore shook his head slowly, his expression pained. "I wanted to help you, to help Tom. Any other path in life could have benefited you both. You were the brightest witch and wizard of your age. Why waste it?"

  "Waste? Ambition coming from anyone isn't a waste, only a dream. The only thing that can be wasted is a life without love, one like yours."

  Dumbledore's eyes softened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "I've received plenty of love," he said softly, almost as if to himself.

  "You've always fought for the greater good, haven't you? But how can you tell right from wrong, good from evil? There is only love and hate in this world."

  Dumbledore raised his wand further, his eyes filled with hurt and determination. Rosalie felt a surge of confidence, knowing she couldn't die on the first try. Not with a horcrux. She was ready to deflect any curse he might throw at her.

  But then, Dumbledore reached into his pocket, his movements slow and deliberate. He pulled out a small crystal, its surface glinting in the chaotic light of the courtyard. Rosalie's breath caught in her throat. It was the crystal she had gifted to Tom years ago, now turned into her horcrux. Her heart sank, a cold dread spreading through her veins.

  She stared at the crystal, her mind racing. How had he found it? What did this mean for her? Her confidence wavered, replaced by a gnawing fear.

  Dumbledore's voice was gentle but firm. "Love and hate, Rosalie, are two sides of the same coin. But this... this is dark magic. It ties you to this world in the most unnatural way. You must see that."

  Rosalie's eyes filled with tears, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. "I did it for love," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I did it to protect Tom, to be with him always."

  "It's impressive what Tom has taught you about love," Dumbledore said. "Because this, this, Rosalie, is not something that someone who loves you would make you do."

  "He did it to protect me," she whispered.

  "To protect you? This is nothing more than ownership." Dumbledore's expression hardened with resolve as he raised his wand. The courtyard seemed to hold its breath. The air crackled with energy, the faint hum of magic filling the silence. Then, with a swift motion, he threw the crystal to the floor. It shattered with a sharp, crystalline sound that echoed through the chaotic space.

  With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore cast a spell, and Fiendfyre erupted from the tip, engulfing the shards in a roaring inferno. The flames were unlike any ordinary fire—an unholy, writhing mass of magical energy that consumed everything in its path with an insatiable hunger.

  Rosalie fell to her hands and knees as the fire took hold, a scream of pure agony tearing from her throat. The sound was primal, echoing off the tiled walls, cutting through the din of battle. The Fiendfyre roared, a living, monstrous entity, and within it, part of her soul was being irrevocably destroyed. Pain, raw and all-consuming, tore through her being. She felt as if she were being ripped apart from the inside, each fibre of her essence unraveling.

  Tom, locked in combat with Daniel, heard her scream—a sound that pierced his heart and sent a cold wave of terror through him. His eyes flicked to Rosalie, his focus momentarily broken. Anguish and fury mingled in his gaze as he saw her crumpled form writhing in pain.

  "Rosalie!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation. He hurled curses at Daniel, each one fuelled by a growing rage. But Daniel, agile and experienced, blocked them with ease, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

  "You should've let her go, Tom," Daniel taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "I would have given her a better life. I can still give her a better life." His words were calculated, each one designed to cut deep, to provoke.

  Tom's eyes blazed with fury. "You know nothing of what she needs!" he roared, sending a particularly vicious curse that Daniel barely deflected.

  Daniel laughed, a hollow, mocking sound. "I know she needs more than what you can give her—a life without constant fear, without the burden of your dark path. Are you sure that baby is even yours?" He poked aimlessly, the accusations not even being sound of mind.

  Rosalie, her vision blurring with tears, could barely comprehend the exchange. The pain was excruciating, every nerve ending aflame. She clutched at the ground, feeling the cold, hard stone beneath her fingers, trying to anchor herself, to hold on to anything solid. Her mind was a whirlwind of torment, the destruction of her horcrux tearing at the very fabric of her existence.

  Tom's desperation grew as he saw her suffering. He lunged at Daniel, his attacks becoming more reckless, driven by a fierce need to end the threat and reach Rosalie. But Daniel anticipated his moves, parrying with a practiced ease that only infuriated Tom further.

  Around them, the battle continued to rage, the courtyard a blur of movement and light. Spells ricocheted off walls, statues crumbled under the force of magic, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of burning. Yet, in this maelstrom of chaos, Tom's world had narrowed to a single focus: Rosie.

  Dumbledore's eyes remained on Rosalie, his expression one of profound sorrow and regret. He had hoped to save her, to turn her away from this path of darkness. But now, seeing her in such pain, he felt the weight of his own decisions, the cost of this war.

  As the Fiendfyre continued to consume the crystal, Rosalie's screams began to subside, replaced by a hollow, aching emptiness. She felt a piece of her soul had been torn away, leaving a void that could never be filled. The flames flickered out, leaving only ash and a lingering sense of loss.

  Tom finally broke through Daniel's defences with a powerful curse that sent his opponent sprawling.  His eyes darkened as he approached. "I know for a fact whose it is because she ran back to me even while you thought she was still yours. But she never was even yours really..." He grabbed Daniel's collar, holding his wand to his throat. "I loved her better than you ever did. Rosalie loves me. She's my wife, the mother of my child. How long has it taken for you to realise that I won? She's mine." 

  Tom heard Rosalie's scream again, louder this time. He dropped Daniel and ran towards the sound. When he arrived, he saw Dumbledore standing over her, the crystal shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor. Rosalie was crying, writhing in pain. Tom's world slowed. He saw Dumbledore, too threatening but hesitant to act further, his fingertips blackened from the spell. 

  And now he knew that Albus intended to kill Rosalie. 

  She should've stayed home. 

  Daniel, having recovered from the attack, sprinted towards Rosalie, his movements a blur. Tom, numb with shock, watched helplessly as Daniel fell to her side. "Rosalie, are you okay?" Daniel's voice was frantic, filled with genuine concern. Tom felt paralysed, his heart aching as he saw her so vulnerable, writhing in agony.

  Daniel's gaze snapped to Dumbledore, his voice a roar of righteous anger. "What have you done to her?"

  Dumbledore, breathing heavily, raised his wand, the weight of his decision evident in his eyes. "Step aside, Daniel. I need to finish the job."

  "What job?" Daniel demanded, his voice thick with confusion and horror.

  "She's a Horcrux, Tom's Horcrux," Dumbledore said, his voice firm, eyes steady. "I need to destroy her to weaken him."

  Daniel looked back at Rosalie, his face pale with disbelief. "You can't...she's pregnant. That's..."

  Dumbledore's voice rose, a note of desperation threading through his words. "It has to be done! The greater good demands it."

  Daniel's hands shook, his wand quivering as he turned back to Rosalie. "I can't do it," he whispered, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

  Rosalie, her eyes blazing with determination despite the pain, she took herself off the ground, standing weakly as she lifted her wand with a trembling hand. "Then get out of the way," she said angrily.

  Before Daniel could respond, Dumbledore raised his wand higher, his intent clear. Rosalie and Dumbledore locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. They both knew what was at stake. With a burst of movement, they began to duel, curses flying through the air, the courtyard crackling with raw, unrestrained magic.

  Tom watched, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He loved Rosalie with every fibre of his being. He had never wanted a family just for the sake of having one; he wanted a family as a testament to their love. His heart ached with the realisation that he had always assumed he knew what was best for her, never seriously asking about her dreams. She had once spoken passionately about becoming a Potion Master, not an Auror. Yet here she was, fighting for him, for their future, for their unborn child.

  The intensity of his love for her was overwhelming, terrifying in its depth. He had never felt more vulnerable, more helpless. He could see the strain in Rosalie's movements, the toll the fight was taking on her. Each curse she deflected, each spell she cast, was a testament to her strength and determination. She was fighting not just for herself, but for him, for their child, for their future.

  "Rosalie!" Tom's voice broke through the chaos, filled with desperation and love. "Hold on!"

  She was vulnerable. She could die. The thought drove a lance of terror through him. With a sudden, fierce determination, Tom drew Dumbledore's attention by throwing a curse at him, causing the older wizard to break off from his duel with Rosalie. For a moment, she had a chance to breathe, but the reprieve was short-lived as she had to deflect curses from Daniel, who now seemed confused and conflicted as he fought against her.

  Dumbledore's face was a mask of grim resolve. "This is for the greater good, Rosalie. You know it must be done."

  Rosalie's eyes flashed with defiance. "The greater good? What about love, Dumbledore? What about family?" She sent a curse back at him, her voice resonating with the raw power of her conviction.

  The clash of their magic sent shockwaves through the courtyard, the ground trembling beneath their feet. Tom could barely breathe, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched the woman he loved fight for him. He threw curses at both Daniel and Dumbledore, determined to push them back and protect Rosalie.

  Suddenly, a curse from Dumbledore grazed Rosalie's shoulder, and she stumbled, her strength waning. Daniel, unable to watch her struggle any longer, stepped forward, placing himself between her and Dumbledore. His wand was raised defensively. "Stop this madness, Dumbledore! There has to be another way!"

  Tom turned his wand on Daniel, his fury and desperation driving him to protect Rosalie at all costs.

  Dumbledore hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. But the moment was fleeting. "There is no other way, Daniel. This is the only path to victory."

  Rosalie, gasping for breath, looked at Tom, their eyes locking in a moment of profound connection. "I love you," she mouthed, her face filled with a depth of emotion that left him breathless.

  "There is no other way." Dumbledore repeated. "Daniel, think about it. Overcome your emotions and think about it."

  Daniel's face twisted with confusion and anger. The conflict within him was palpable, his loyalties torn between his duty to Dumbledore and his desire to protect Rosalie. "You don't understand, Albus. She's more than just a Horcrux. She's a person. I loved her. How can you ask me to do this?"

  Dumbledore's eyes were steely, his resolve unyielding. "Daniel, you must do what is necessary for the greater good. Sacrifices must be made."

  Tom watched in horror as Daniel's internal struggle played out before him. Each fleeting moment was etched with confusion, anger, and a growing sense of despair. It was as if he could see the exact moment when Daniel's resolve faltered, the precise instant when doubt gave way to a terrible, irrevocable decision. The look on Daniel's face was a silent proclamation of the curse he intended to unleash—a curse that would forever sever Tom from the love of his life.

  Tom's heart raced, a primal fear gripping him as he watched Daniel's wand lift. His mind screamed in silent agony. The curse Daniel was about to cast was one that would make Rosalie slip into an eternal slumber, leaving Tom alone with a gaping void where his love had once been. It would rip out a piece of his soul, leaving him hollow and bereft. Every precious moment they had shared, every whispered promise and stolen kiss, seemed to flash before his eyes. In those agonising seconds, the weight of his love for Rosalie felt unbearable.

  Driven by an instinctive, almost animalistic need to save her, Tom reacted with a desperate fury. He threw his own curse at Daniel, his movements a blur of raw emotion and resolve. He had to protect her. He had to stop the man who was about to destroy her.

  Avada Kedavra

  His own incantation hung in the air like a death sentence, and in that instant, he was the one who had sentenced Rosalie to death. She was only here because she was the ingredient to killing him. 

  Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Tom's entire world narrowed to the sight of Rosalie standing there, vulnerable and unprotected.

  "Protego!" Daniel cried out, his voice cracking with desperation as he raised his wand in defence. The spell collided with Tom's curse, deflecting it off course. The ricocheted curse shot back toward Rosalie, moving with a speed that seemed almost unreal.

  In that terrifying moment, everything slowed down. The world seemed to tilt, spinning out of control. The flash of green light illuminated the courtyard, a stark, unforgiving contrast to the darkness of the scene. The light was blinding, searing, and then—silence. The deafening, unbearable silence that followed felt like an eternity.

  Tom's heart didn't know what to feel as he watched Rosalie's body crumple to the ground. Her face, once vibrant and full of life, was now frozen in an expression of pain and shock. The sight of her freezing form struck him like a physical blow. It was as if the world itself had come crashing down around him, leaving nothing but a void of unimaginable grief.

  In that instant, the five years they had spent together felt like mere seconds. Every moment of joy, every tender touch, every shared dream seemed to compress into a single, poignant memory. The love that had once seemed eternal and invincible was now tainted by the cruel hand of fate. His entire existence had been intertwined with hers, and now, without her, he felt an overwhelming numbness.

  He felt part of his soul die and shrivel up with her.

  The love that once defined him, that had given his life meaning, was now a hollow echo. He realised with crushing clarity that love, for him, was only worth it if Rosalie existed. Without her, the world was a barren wasteland, stripped of its colour and vitality. His love for her had been the foundation of his dreams and desires. And now, with her gone, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

  He fell to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he reached out to her lifeless body. The tears that streamed down his face were a mixture of rage, sorrow, and the profound emptiness that only true love could leave behind. He wanted to scream, to rage against the heavens, but no sound emerged. He had done this.

  Dumbledore moved with an eerie sense of purpose, his wand raised with a practiced flick as he carefully manoeuvred Rosalie's lifeless body away from Tom before he could touch her. There was a cold efficiency in his movements, a disturbing calmness that contrasted sharply with the chaos surrounding them. The air between them crackled with an unspoken tension, a dark secret embedded deeply within Dumbledore's soul that Tom couldn't quite decipher.

  Their proximity allowed them to feel each other's emotions—a haunting exchange of anguish and resolve. Tom's eyes searched Dumbledore's face, trying to understand the depth of the enigma that lay beneath his serene facade. The old wizard's gaze was inscrutable, his expression a mixture of profound knowing. He seemed too calm for a man who had just watched Rosalie die.

  Dumbledore looked at Tom one last time, his eyes reflecting a depth of knowledge that went far beyond their current crisis. There was a fleeting moment of understanding between them, one that hinted at a hidden agenda and a knowledge that Tom was not privy to. The older wizard's expression was as impassive as ever, but the faintest hint of something—perhaps regret or triumph—flickered across his features.

  Without another word, Dumbledore's form began to shimmer and dissolve into the air, leaving behind a trail of magical disturbance. The finality of his departure was punctuated by a soft, almost imperceptible crack as he apparated away, taking Rosalie's body with him.

  Tom was left in the aftermath of his absence, a void where Rosalie's touch should have been.

A/N

um. don't even know what to say. What do you guys think will happen next?

ummmmmmmmmmm yeah long chapter right?

sorry im trying to get your mind off of what you just read xx

PS: ... .... . ... / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / .- .-.. .. ...- . / .... .- .... .-