Northern Crown [t.r]

Chapter Nineteen

  He'd been pacing the entire day, the moment he had woken up and realized she was gone. Not a trace or a letter to hint at where she had gone. That was until he heard the resounding crack of magic from somewhere outside.

Practically tearing through the door, Tom's eyes raked over the surroundings of the house but couldn't see anything nor anyone. He could feel it though, her magic. It was thrumming almost violently and he let the threads pull him. They yanked his body along almost desperately until he came to a sharp stop at the sight of her huddled over Elio's grave.

He rushed over and turned her onto her back, noticing how she was out cold and looked deathly ill. Blood was caked around her nose and mouth, but other than that she looked to be uninjured. He cursed silently to himself and he cradled her head to hit chest, her dead weight settling uncomfortably against him. From anyone else's perspective she appeared to be dead and he didn't like the feeling at all.

Picking her up carefully, he noticed a letter discarded at her side and summoned that to his hold as well before heading inside. He ignored the concerned comments of everyone else and padded up the stairs as quickly as he dared, not wanting to disturb her so soon. Pushing the door open with his back, he then rested her on the bed and got to work on cleaning up the blood. Hoping she would wake up on her own before he let anxiety grip him and he summoned her back to consciousness.

He was still pissed at her for leaving unannounced, even more so since she showed up looking battered but at least she was okay. She had to be. He brushed some of her hair out of her face and his voice left him softly, "wake up, Lilah. Please."

As if he had spoken some complicated spell, she then appeared to rouse from whatever deep slumber she had been in. Her eyes moving rapidly behind her eyes for a moment before she suddenly shot up. Looking pained and alert and heartbroken all at once.

"Hey," Tom reached out for her and hated how she flinched, even though it was only for a moment before she rested against his hand that was holding the side of her face. His eyes searched hers for a moment, "what happened?"

Her lip trembled and he feared she might cry, his mind reeling on what could've possibly happened. Delilah squeezed her eyes shut and took a shaking breath, pulling her knees up to her chest and he felt cut off from her now.

"He played me." Her voice was so quiet he hardly heard her.

"Who did?"

She curled in on herself harder before eventually stretching out again and tried to regain her composure. "This morning I left to see Dumbledore, about that letter he had left me from the future. And he... fuck." She pressed her hands against her eyes. "He's the reason my life is a mess."

Something dark and fascinatingly sinister gripped his features and a foreboding sense of fear rocked through her for a moment, his hidden rage seeming all too familiar and monsterly. "What did he do to you?" Tom's voice was low, rough with barely tampered fury.

She tried to speak but she didn't think she could, instead she found the letter on the nightstand and with a shaking hand she pressed it into his chest. Taking it from her gently, Tom's gaze held hers for a moment before he unfolded the parchment. His face was unreadable as his eyes raked over the words written there.

He leaned back and rubbed a hand against his mouth as he processed what exactly had happened to her. What Dumbledore had done for the sake of the greater good. Part of him almost wanted to laugh as he looked at those two words written on the page. Save him. Had Dumbledore really been so desperate? So exhausted from war that he, against her knowledge, sent a girl back in time to save his soul?

Tom was torn on the matter. Angry at the fact he was being used as some pawn and there was that nagging feeling that their whole... relationship had been orchestrated at the hands of the man he so despised. Yet he also felt strangely, deeply grateful for it all at once. Dumbledore had put Delilah in his path, and he couldn't ignore the small itch of gratitude he felt. But save him? Really? Is that what she was supposed to be doing?

He wanted to laugh but thought better against it as anger took hold of him again. Remembering all the times she went cold and started to practically leak blood all because of the damned body clock he had put on her. The letter did instruct on how to remove it but...

But what? Once it was removed she'd be back to normal, she wouldn't have any more bloody mishaps but... God it was tempting. His mind went back to that fateful morning in Hogsmeade when they found out about it in the first place. She was practically immortal, as was he. They could live and grow stronger together, forever.

Gods.

He could almost get drunk off the thought of it, the temptation rocking him down to his very core and he looked at her. Tom wondered if he could find a way to modify it. Maybe since it was placed on her while she was in disarray, no thanks to him, that's why it was acting defective. It was stuck in a moment of panic and near death. Perhaps if he could move her only slightly forward, she'd be healthy forever.

She'd be his, and he'd be hers.

"What's that look for?" She said weakly. Delilah was laid back down on the pillow and was observing him intently.

He bit his cheek and debated for a moment before deciding it was best to keep those ambitions to himself for now. Instead he said, "how would you feel if I killed him?"

Delilah blinked at him, not sure how to process that statement. "Dumbledore? You can't." At his narrowed eyes, she rolled hers. "He's not supposed to die until the nineties."

Clenching his jaw he then laid down beside her, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to let his mind wander down the path of immortality. They did need to think of the future, but maybe a closer one. They had Grindelwald to deal with first.

"We need to find Potter."

He turned his head to look at her and found Delilah looking at him already, now turned on her side and almost looking heaven-like with the way her body rested against the sheets. The sight of her always seemed to overwhelm him in one way or another. His breath always caught just slightly as if he was seeing her for the first time. His first glimpse at God and he found himself wanting to kneel at her altar.

Tom Riddle wasn't a man to kneel but for her found he'd fall right to his knees if she asked him to.

Reaching out, he traced the side of her face with his fingers lightly and her eyes were so startlingly blue that he began to wonder what drowning was like. How tempting it was to just fall into her and let the tides take him, to pull him under and never let him back up for a gasp of breath or sanity.

"Do you think you saved me?" He didn't know where the question came from but it was out and hanging in the air before he could think better of it.

Her brows furrowed as she observed him before eventually shaking her head. "No, no I don't think I did."

"Do you think I'm still destined for ruin, then?" They somehow got closer, their face only inches apart and he could still smell metal on her tongue but it was strangely enticing. Addictive. He wanted to devour every inch of her, if she'd let him.

"No," she whispered. "I think you learned how to save yourself."

His eyes flicked down to her mouth as his stomach melted into a searing pit of desire. Glad that she was safe and lying there next to him. Anticipation of facing Grindelwald with her at his side. Their potential to live forever... it was all overwhelming and he found himself pulling her into him and his mouth crashed against hers almost possessively. The hunger behind it was palpable and he shuddered as her hands raked through his hair.

Tom's mind was just her and his body moved on its own accord, flipping them over so he was on top of her and his mouth latched onto the side of her neck. He shivered almost violently when her nails tore down his back, "God."

Her voice was a seductive lilt, "are you praying to me?"

His lips grazed down her chest, "something like that."