Northern Crown [t.r]

Chapter Eighteen

  Delilah slowly woke up, her mind still treading the thin line between dreams and reality. The only thing she could get a sense of was the rolling sense of nausea that rocked her body.

It was a burrowing, burning sensation that was searing through her chest right down into her stomach. She blinked a few times, a wail of pain nearly ripping through her mouth before it suddenly ceased. Sitting up, she felt dizzy and her vision speckled black before everything went back to normal.

Something rustled beside her and she flinched before realizing it was Tom shifting in his sleep. It was still early morning, the sun not even kissing the sky yet. She knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep so she carefully got out of bed before heading down to the kitchen.

After making a cup of tea, she slumped into one of the chairs at the table and stared at the silver cigarette box. The sounds of the ocean greeting her ears through the cracked windows and she nearly let herself dream about just staying there forever.

Her and Tom moving to the beach, spending their days soaked in the sun and lounging by the water. The domesticity of it was nearly enough to get her drunk but she shook her head. He'd never agree to a future like that.

Delilah's gaze turned back to the box and she gnawed at her lips. Why this box? She hadn't even gotten it till after she arrived in the forties. It was just sitting in a little shop in Hogsmeade, not even in an obvious place. The sun had just glinted off it at the right time so it caught her eye.

She needed to talk to Dumbledore. He was the only one with answers but she knew Tom would rather swallow shards of glass than go to him for help. But just sitting there, the uncertainty of what was going to happen next sent a ravishing fire of anxiety ripping up her spine.

Sneaking back up to their room, she quietly changed into different clothes and grabbed the letter she had gotten out of Dumbledore's desk when they went back to the nineties. Just as she was leaving the room her eyes caught onto Tom. He was laying on his stomach, his body sprawled out and his brown hair fell over his closed eyes as he breathed slowly and deeply.

She needed answers, and she left out the door.

In the living room, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

"Dumbledore's office," though she spoke it clearly, her voice barely rose above a whisper. Nonetheless, green flames engulfed her and her vision blurred as she was transported.

She stumbled forward, Dumbledore's office coming into view.

Despite it being early morning, there the professor sat. A cup of tea steamed at his desk as he flicked through a book. Though now he was looking up at her through his glasses, looking a bit surprised but pleased to see her.

"Good Morning," he greeted her, taking a sip of his drink and gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

Her smile was tight lipped, the letter in her coat pocket burning a hole into her side.

"Morning," she forced out.

Clearly not missing her tone, Dumbledore snapped his book shut and placed it on his desk. Settling into his chair, he laced his fingers together and rested them against his stomach. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Delilah?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, thinking back to what he told her. About how she would know when to open the letter. Part of her wasn't sure she could handle whatever was written in it, so why not give it to the author himself?

"I have something for you," she dug into her pocket and raised the letter for him to see.

His brow raised, noticing his handwriting. "Curious."