Beta: Cloudy

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Talk about the M stuff at the bottom of the chapter my adorably thirsty, thirsty readers.

Warning: trigger warning for those who feel uncomfortable with sexual allusions. Skip past the first scene my dearies!

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

His hands were comforting and smooth.

He smelled like something woodsy, warm, and spicy that I couldn't put a name on.

And he tasted like Earl Grey.

For that night, I couldn't get those tastes and smells out of me.

Tom's hands were firm as they daringly uncovered me. They were gentle caresses that left goosebumps in their trail. He moved with no rush or hesitation as he explored every inch of bare skin.

Of course, Tom wasn't the only one able to explore. In between breaths of air, I found faded childhood scars, and a few cute little freckles. I was able to coax out small smiles in between kisses, and feel him laugh above me when I focused on a particularly adorable freckle on his chest.

We moved together, savoring each other's warmth as we uncovered our bodies' secrets. Gentle, sweet, and tantalizingly tender. All I could taste was Earl Grey. All I could smell was that delicious spice. All I could feel was Tom.

All evening and night we devoted ourselves to each other. Once, twice, thrice—

When exhaustion made our limbs tremble, we moved from the bedroom to the bath to relax in a scented salted bath.

It was close to three in the morning before we climbed into bed to properly sleep.

Then Sil kindly woke up at six to return home.

"Ooooo that's a tender body," I mumbled quietly to myself as I stretched in bed. I kissed Tom's forehead, the sleepy wizard murmuring a small Good morning to me. I found him so darn cute I couldn't resist giving him another kiss on the nose before I left. He mumbled something unintelligible in response that just—

Just—

Have you ever looked at something or someone and just had a pure shot of Oh my god I love him/her/this?

That kind of burst of adrenaline that made your heart flutter, and a giddy rush of joy force a stupid grin on your face?

I got that. Hardcore. I was so dang happy and—

Ah.

I guess I was stupidly in love.

It was honestly hard to leave. Like, if I had to go anywhere else but Hogwarts that day I'd skip it and stay with Tom.

I think I got it pretty bad, I thought to myself, pinching my cheeks to try and get rid of my dumb grin.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Berit's training with Sirius would start up after I left for school. Despite how much Sirius hated his upbringing, his mother drilled in so many noble laws / etiquette that Sirius could quite literally never forget. Remus would be assisting—he always kept up to date on current politics, especially when it pertained to his fluffy curse—which was wonderful. Plus it would give Remus more of an excuse to see the village and hopefully come to love his fluffy side a bit more.

I had faith that by the time I graduated from Hogwarts I could expunge the Black seat from the Wizengamot and replace it with Lunar.

For the moment I was planning on keeping the Potter seat for myself. Although if something ever came up and I decided to forgo politics, I'd pick someone else from the village to fill it. Harry made it abundantly clear he did not want anything to do with the Wizengamot.

Or, shoot, might put Granger in it.

Actually, holy smokes, that'd be hilarious.

I'd love to see Lady Granger bicker with Lord Nott on the Wizengamot floor. Lady Greengrass would probably egg them on while Lord Malfoy would try to not sigh from exhaustion.

Hahaha, okay now I'm kind of tempted—

Even if I chose not to use the Potter seat, I could probably manipul—er—tri—er—persuade Hermione to take up another seat.

Hehehehe.

It was a funny thought that made me smile to myself on the way down to Hogwarts.

Prefects had to roam the halls the first half. Not many students tried to pick a fight, but I had a fair few fans want to talk with me. It was easy to keep polite conversation, although some older students were more annoying to deal with.

They were plainly obvious with their intentions. I tried to dissuade them subtly—as to not insult them or accidentally traumatize the poor kids—but they were either too stubborn, or too dense to pick up on my rejection.

Ah well. If they tried anything I'd deal with it then.

As long as Tom's body doesn't magically fail at an inconvenient time for him to witness people making moves on me.

I didn't think Tom distrusted me, but I wasn't blind to his possessive nature. It wasn't a matter of having faith in my loyalty, so much as what he felt belonged to him. Not that I was complaining! I found his possessive side hecka cute. I'd never been wanted by someone so much they'd actively hurt others to keep me. Felt nice.

Even if it was technically unhealthy, I didn't see it as an issue needing to be fixed. Tom was inherently possessive and manipulative. Wanting those to change would be... well, it would mean I didn't appreciate Tom for who he was. A cunning, wee-bit psychotic, morally ambiguous wizard.

I accepted those traits right alongside his intelligence, charisma, and every shared interest we had.

The arrival at Hogwarts was much the same as any year. We crowded into the carriages pulled by Thestrals then arrived at the Welcome Feast where we watched a Sorting.

I sat comfortably between Draco and Daphne, listening to Daphne's avid tale of her summer in Paris. Draco and Theodore were wisely quiet about how they spent their summers, expertly diverting questions thrown at them. The two boys shared a knowing look with me, and we exchanged some mischievous smiles.

I had heard reports of the boys from Fenrir and Anyo. They had thoroughly explored the village and made some easy acquaintances. Instead of breakfast prepared by Sil, they had found a love with Sally's bakery and enjoyed purchasing food from the various shops.

As far as I could tell, they had a good summer. Tom had mentioned in passing that he had visited them on the regular. It tickled me pink to think they were getting along.

I wondered if they would return to the village after Hogwarts. That'd be neat. Actually, it'd be swell if all my babeh snakes came by the village after Hogwarts. I'd love to introduce them to everyone.

Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room. "To our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you. One that I am sure will be filled with delight, laughter, and wonder. I am told that our own Rubeus Hagrid has procured a particularly interesting assortment of creatures for class this year that I am sure everyone is looking forward to.

"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn—" Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight. "—is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"Potions?"

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"NO!" came a cry from the Gryffindor table that I'd bet a sickle belonged to Harry.

"WOOO!" I immediately shouted to offset that. I stood up, clapping loudly and wordlessly ordering my snakes to the same. The Slytherin table erupted into fierce applause for our Head.

Ah. Shit. I need to deal with the jinx on the position now.

Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more.

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

"Future minions to me," I said, hopping out of my seat.

"Long live the Queen," sang Theodore.

"Hear, hear," laughed Draco, who was promptly echoed by the rest of my babeh snakes to the confusing surprise of the first years.

Pansy was amused by their baffled expression, she reached over and ruffled the top of a young girl's head. "Just wait until Roast Night."

"R-Roast night?" nervously echoed one of the students.

I was about to explain it, but then I heard another first year whimper, "We're going to be eaten, aren't we?"

"Snrrrk," I covered my mouth to keep from laughing too hard.

I love kids.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Once it was time for bed, I took that opportunity to sneak out and visit Tom again. I found him in his office, floating in the air as he stared at a blackboard covered in math. He glanced over at me upon my entry.

Tom greeted me with a warm smile as he floated down to stand before me. "Rosie. I'm glad you're here, I found something."

"Oh?"

He reached for his desk, picking up a familiar parchment and handing it to me. "This. Is this yours?"

"Oh," I said. I read it before I realized what it was. "Aha. Yes, that's my Hogwarts List."

"Hogwarts List?" he repeated.

"The things I want to do at Hogwarts before I graduate," I said wistfully. "Put it together my first year and have been adding on to it."

He grimaced. "All of the items on it?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Even—even the—mature ones?"

"In my defense, I wrote those before I started crushing on you," I said with a bemused smile. And was hoping to find an of age student at the TriWizard.

Tom was silent for several long seconds. At the end of his pause he finally asked, "... Does it have to be a broom cupboard?"

"Yes."

He pursed his lips. "They're very unhygienic."

"I don't care. It's part of the experience."

"It's a warning sign for a budding exhibitionist is what it is," he muttered.

I reached up and patted his cheek. "There, there. I won't force your hand. I understand and respect your limits, Tom."

He made an offended noise. "Limits?"

I chuckled. "Okay. I understand and respect your comfort zone. Is that better?"

He sighed.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

I started my year off with the absolute intention of destroying Tom's N.E.W.T. scores. I met with Professor Snape for my class schedule and plainly told him, "I need to defeat my academic rival in N.E.W.T.s next year."

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at that. "What were their scores?"

"All Os with asterisks, except in Defense," I muttered bitterly.

"Are you trying to go against Professor Dumbledore?" he drawled out.

"And if I am?" I challenged.

Professor Snape lazily waved his hand. "If that's your desire then I'd advise skipping a year ahead in runes and arithmancy and taking them this year."

"Can I do that?"

"You're already in Alchemy," said Snape. "I have been told you are... adequate. Take those N.E.W.T.s this year and save yourself the headache."

"Any other N.E.W.T.s I can take this year?" I asked curiously.

Snape considered it, looking over my O.W.L. scores. "Perhaps Care of Magical Creatures and History."

"Then I'd appreciate skipping those classes, if you please."

"Very well."

I smiled. I wouldn't tell Tom I was breaking up the N.E.W.T. exams until after all of my scores came in. If I failed the criteria for any of those exams this year, I could take them again next year.

With my new class schedule, I set off. I'd have to see new faces for a few of the classes, but that didn't matter. As long as the end results were favorable.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Classes were going very well. I adored Hagrid and Snape's class. Mostly because Snape wanted to start us on non-verbal spells and... well... heheh. Let's just say I earned Slytherin a fair few points. Hagrid because the big baby passed his N.E.W.T.s and obtained a license for some cuddly buddies.

We got to spend our class helping Hagrid set up the stables, dens, pastures, and so on for new creatures he was going to obtain. The half-giant was so dang happy he couldn't stop smiling as he babbled about what his plans were. It was infectious and I wasn't the only student grinning alongside him as he chatted.

Potions was another favorite. I headed down with Draco, Blaise, Daphne, and Theodore. It wasn't anyone's surprise that Slytherins dominated the majority of class members—only two other Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff, and three lions.

The dungeon was, oddly, already full of vapors and odd smells. The tables only allowed three people per, so I took a seat with Theodore and Hermione. Draco, Daphne, and Harry sat together. Blaise and Neville took a seat with the only baby badger.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, who practically quivered with glee at having a class with the Chosen Ones in it. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making." Once everyone took out their textbooks, Slughorn continued, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of things you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest to my table. It looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

It was also very, very familiar.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione.

I smiled to myself, thinking back on what I had done to Lockhart.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known... Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too... Who can—?"

Hermione's hand was fastest once more.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here," said Slughorn, gesturing to a strong smelling—

Tom?

I blinked in monetary confusion as I wondered why a potion would smell so strongly of Tom, linen, and—

"Yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

I felt my cheeks and ears grow hot. Duh, Rosie!

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and—"

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione's embarrassment.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially.

Only fair. Snape gave me so many points in DADA, I thought, nudging Hermione and giving her a smile. Hermione beamed in response.

Theodore leaned into her and whispered, "Good job."

Hermione turned pink again.

Awwww.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room—oh yes," he said, nodding gravely. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love... Well now it is time for us to start our work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Ernie Macmillan, the sole Hufflepuff, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Oho," said Slughorn again. I doubted Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. Oh Potioneers and their love for drama! "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed... at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," said Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing, you know... highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally... "

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner with great interest.

"Twice in my life," said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

He gazed dreamily into the distance.

"And that," said Slughorn, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.

"Now, I must give you a warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions... sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only... and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible.

Unfortunately for them I had already brewed the draught several times and as such was familiar with the process.

Plus, you know... Not to sound too arrogant but I was kind of a hardworking genius at Potions. One did not dedicate over a decade to the subject without getting decent.

I moved quickly, not even looking at the instructions. Once you knew the ingredients and you became familiar with how Potions worked, it was easy to tell what needed to be done. A lot like cooking.

The process couldn't always be the same. Seasonings and extra steps had to be added if the ingredients weren't fresh enough, or if the temperature wasn't just right.

Potions was not for people who rigidly followed the textbook, but for those who could adapt quickly and instinctively to what the creation needed. That instinct had been honed after countless hours trying to perfect the lycanthrope potions and failing... God knows how many times.

"And time's... up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. When he reached my table he noticed my potion and had a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Rosie! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are—one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

I slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into my inner pocket.

Of course before I left, I made sure to steal Snape's book. I'd give it back to him by the end of the day.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Later that night, I was able to visit Tom. I needed to confirm something as soon as possible, after all.

"So," I drawled out slowly as I sat on his desk while he worked. "I don't suppose you'd have any idea how Voldemort cursed the DADA position?"

Tom raised a delicate eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'd like to get rid of it," I answered honestly. "I want Professor Snape to stay as the DADA professor. One, because I'm terribly fond of him, and two, because we're running out of people to place in the position. Odette loves everyone I brought over and doesn't want to risk them getting cursed at Hogwarts. I'm afraid if I try to take anyone away she'll cry. If she cries, I cry. It's a mess."

Tom made an affirming noise. "Hmm... I understand why you would want that, but why should I?"

Amused, I asked, "What would you like in return for the information?"

"You."

"You already have me," I said with a roll of my eyes. "Try again."

Tom smiled wanly. "Mn. How about you simply stay in my debt?"

"Uh-uh. Nope. Not falling for that."

"I'm afraid I don't know how to help you then," he said, his smile curling into a smirk.

I leaned forward, peering at him. "Really? You can't think of anything I can do for you within my power?"

He reached forward and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. He smoothly transitioned from that to cupping my cheek. I leaned into his touch, smiling adoringly at him. "Perhaps there's something..."

"Mm-hmm?"

"There is something I've been wanting for a while but it's difficult to obtain."

"Need my thieving experience?"

Tom smiled. "Yes. Ever heard of the Necronomicon?"

I stared at him. "Oh, God, you're going to start a zombie apocalypse aren't you?"

"I don't plan on it," he said. "Are you wanting me to?"

"Definitely not. If any kind of apocalypse was bound to happen I'd rather it's a demonic invasion."

It was Tom's turn to stare at me incredulously. "Why?"

"Zombies are gross," I said while I scrunched up my nose. "At least there's plenty of lore to support the concept of witches subjugating demons. We'd have a good chance at defeating them, and possibly even turning them against each other and invading hell in turn."

Tom took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let it out slowly. "Rosie, no."

"What?"

"Rosie... no."

"What?"

"That is not... that is not how that would work out. Rosie, promise me you will not try to summon any demons."

"Wha—I mean—wait, can you?" I blinked. "Are they—are they real?"

"Of course they're real!" Tom was aghast. "Demon summoning rituals are incredibly dangerous and Dark."

"Oh man I wanna—"

"Do not even think about finishing that with I want to try it out once before I die," Tom snapped at me.

My cheeks turned red and I lowered my gaze. "I mean... yeah, totally. Wh-Who would be that stupid, right?"

Tom's withering glare made me grimace and look away.

I coughed. "So why do you want it, anyway? I'm assuming it's not purely for the sake of having it."

"Correct. I'm... at a standstill with my body," he admitted. "The homunculus form I have created should be perfect to house my soul, yet it can't keep it for more than several months. I don't understand what's wrong. The Necronomicon should have a lot of information on souls. I'm hoping to find an answer in there."

"Hmm. Okay."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Alchemy class with Dumbledore picked up where we had left off last year. We finished much earlier than usual, though, and I wondered if that meant Dumbledore wanted to talk about the prophecy.

I'd be incredibly surprised if Dumbledore didn't know I was at the raid. Even without Anyo tipping him off, there weren't many people outside his Order and the Auror office that were actively fighting Death Eaters. Or, you know, in contact with people who tore their enemies apart limb from limb.

The 'anonymous vigilantes' who stopped the Death Eater raid at the Department of Mysteries had to be related to me. No way Dumbledore thought otherwise.

Which meant he could safely conclude I knew about the prophecies.

Dumbledore sharply waved his wand as he cleaned up the transmutation circles we had previously sketched out in class. He noticed my intense gaze, looking over at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Yes?" he inquired.

"You know what I want to ask."

"I have a guess," he said with an oddly mischievous smile.

I rolled my eyes. "I bet you were ornery growing up."

"My brother called me that many times when I was still a student," Dumbledore said with great amusement in his tone. "I suspect Sirius has called you that."

"He calls me chaos incarnate."

"I cannot imagine why."

I laughed. "You're adorable, Grandpa."

He laughed as well. "My! It's been years since someone called me that."

Grinning, I said, "Everyone's been too preoccupied being amazed by you to realize how much of a cutie patootie you can be."

Dumbledore smiled. "Cutie patootie. That's a new one. Hahaha, thank you, Rosie."

"I call it like I see it. On a completely unrelated note to how cute you are and how much I embody chaos—I have a prophecy?"

"Your forwardness is always appreciated," said Dumbledore. "I had suspected you would want to discuss that today."

Beaming, I praised him, "You know me so well."

"I'd like to think I do," he said.

"So er—can I see—er—the you know?"

"At this point, it certainly cannot hurt," he said. "Let us convene to my office to ensure a more... private discussion."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Dumbledore's office was as lovely as always. It reminded me a bit of Howl's bedroom from Howl's Moving Castle. There was always an abundance of magical trinkets that chimed, chittered, and chatted. The presence of magic in the air was thick enough to be palpable—especially to a sensor like myself.

I had had years to grow accustomed to my magic sensitivity, though, and so I was able to handle the oppressing wall of magic like a champ.

Or, well, fake it pretty well.

Thankfully, the magic in Dumbledore's office wasn't malicious or discomforting on its own. Rather, it was an abundance of different sensations that clashed with one another in a symphony of mayhem.

Dumbledore guided me to his stone basin pensieve, opening up his cabinet and pouring in a memory. He gestured for me to step forward, and I did so gingerly before I stuck my head in the water.

Immediately, the memory played out. We were in Dumbledore's office, along with Professor McGonagall, and Professor Trelawney.

"The twins have already left?" asked Professor Trelawney, her gaze accusatory as she glared at Professor McGonagall. "I never got to see them."

"It was for the best," sniffed Professor McGonagall. "Harry was being fussy. He cried every time someone came in."

"Maybe there was a reason for that—"

"There was," Professor Dumbledore softly cut in. "And while it is a shame you did not have a chance to meet them before they left, I'm sure you'll have the opportunity to do so when they return to Hogwarts."

"They should have stayed," said Professor Trelawney. "Nowhere safer than Hogwarts."

"Children require proper homes to grow up, not chaotic schools," said Professor McGonagall.

"Chaotic?" asked Dumbledore with a quiver of enjoyment in his voice.

"You know very well what I mean," Professor McGonagall retorted. "Although I'm not sure Sirius is the best parent for them right now."

"Where else would you suggest? With Lily's blood relatives?" asked Dumbledore. "Sirius is a powerful wizard in his own right and we must respect the Potters' wishes to name him their godfather."

Professor McGonagall hesitated. "Perhaps Lily's sister would be better, though. Lily told me they already have a son about their age."

"Then you can try to take them from Sirius," chuckled Dumbledore. "I want no part in that conversation."

"Honestly, Dumbledore—"

"That's not what we came here to discuss," interrupted Trelawney. "I had a vision."

Professor McGonagall looked at Trelawney with great reproach. "Right. Your... vision."

"A terrible premonition, Headmaster. It's about the twins. I believe they'll be in even greater danger very soon."

"Yes?" Dumbledore peered at Trelawney. "What vision did you have?"

"I—" At once Trelawney's eyes rolled back and her body began to tremble.

"Oh for goodness sake," admonished McGonagall. "Enough with the theatrics, Sybill!"

Professor Trelawney took a staggering breath and at once a voice that certainly did not belong to her croaked out of her mouth. It was deep, raggedy, and terribly ominous. Even though I was viewing the memory second hand, I felt a chill pierce through me upon hearing that voice.

"The daughter of Antheia will be born as Iounios wanes... She will be seen as Tiresias... and offer the hidden path favored by Asclepius and Eros to the one who flees Thanatos... Those who could not be saved will be spared... Those who could not choose will be given a choice... The daughter of Antheia will be born as Ionios wanes..."

Professor Trelawney abruptly shook her head, coughing violently.

Professor McGonagall stared at her in blatant disbelief while Professor Dumbledore offered her a cup of water.

"Right... what was I saying again?" Professor Trelawney asked in a daze, blinking rapidly. "Oh, hello Headmaster! You know I've been meaning to talk to you about a vision I had..."

I pulled out of the memory, blinking rapidly. I glared at the pensieve water, irritated by the vague words used in the prophecy. I didn't immediately understand any of the references which instantly bothered me. "What? What does—that's not—Harry's was so much more obvious."

Dumbledore chuckled at my blatant frustration. "This prophecy borrows heavily from Greek mythology."

"What? I didn't recognize any of those names. Isn't Greek like... Hades? Zeus?" I waved my hands in agitation.

Dumbledore waved his wand, the prophecy writing itself in the air. He tapped on Antheia. "Antheia was one of the attendants of Aphrodite—who I assume you know as the goddess of love—and is a goddess of flowers."

My mouth opened to form a small o as I immediately put the pieces together. "Oh. Okay, so daughter of Antheia basically means daughter of a flower? I'm guessing Iounios is another way to say July then."

"Correct."

"So what's Tiresias?"

"A blind prophet, famous for clairvoyance and being transformed into a woman," said Dumbledore.

I turned a little pink at that, realizing the implication of clairvoyance. "Oh. Um—er—who—who're Asclepius and Eros, then?"

"Asclepius was the god of medicine, and Eros was the son of Aphrodite and Ares—and known as a Greek god of love and desire."

"And Thanatos?" I squeaked out, my face burning as I put together the prophecy.

"Death."

"But Hades—"

"Hades is the god of the dead, but Thanatos is the god of death," Dumbledore kindly explained.

I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to bury my face to hide how red-cheeked I had likely become.

So... Daughter of a flower will be born as July wanes. She can see as a prophet and offer hidden paths favored by medicine and... love/desire to the one who flees death. Those who could not be saved will be spared. Those who could not choose would be given a choice.

It was... it was painfully obvious who the person that "fled from death" was. So. So. So obvious. Voldemort's name literally meant the one who fled from death.

I feel so called out.

Those who could not be saved—Sirius came to mind. Those who could not choose—the werewolves.

Wow.

I had, unwittingly, done exactly as the prophecy had foretold. It was accurate. Completely accurate.

"Wow," I breathed out slowly, opening my eyes to find myself staring in Dumbledore's twinkling gaze. "You know."

"I have guesses," he said vaguely.

"Ooooh, don't even," I said. "I am a Slytherin. I can hear the ambiguity."

At that, Dumbledore laughed again. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I must confess I was astonished by your Yule Ball date."

"Uggghhh," I moaned. Unable to take the embarrassment anymore, I buried my face in my hands. "Do you judge me?"

"I am not in a position to judge," he said. "You two seemed happy together. Happier than I had ever seen him, at least."

"Really?"

"Truly," he said. "It was... surprising. Humbling in a way. I confess, when I first heard your prophecy I was skeptical. And then... dear, dear. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious to know how that came about, or how there are two Tom Riddles going around."

I grimaced. "Please don't ask me to betray his secrets."

Dumbledore shook his head. "But you two are working against the other one?"

"Yes," I admitted. "Tom's... not happy with his counterpart."

"Does he have a plan to deal with it?"

"We're working on it," I said. "If all goes according to plan, Voldemort should be eliminated by the end of the year."

Dumbledore cocked his head. "Do you require assistance?"

"I dunno. I'll, um... pass it along, though." I shifted anxiously in my seat. "Um... Professor? Can I—Can I ask you what he was like? What you—what you thought of him when he attended?"

Professor Dumbledore glanced down at his pensieve. "Another time, Rosie. You need to get to your next class before you are late."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later, Grandpa."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

"Hey honey," I greeted Tom nervously later that evening.

"You sound like you have bad news," observed Tom.

"Yeaaaahh," I said, hesitantly shifting my weight as I stood in front of him. Tom was seated in his beloved recliner. Upon noticing my anxious fidgeting, he lifted his arms up in a wordless invitation. I climbed into his lap, curling into him and resting my head on his shoulder. "Sooooooo... Dumbledore's kind of figured out we're together."

Tom closed his eyes, counted to ten, then reopened. "How?"

"He still recognized you at the Yule Ball," I confessed. "And, um, my prophecy—"

"I do not want to hear any nonsense about a bloody prophecy," dismissed Tom. "Divination is poppycock."

"Okay, okay," I soothed. "Um... I'm sorry."

"You've no reason to be," he dismissed, using one hand to gently brush back my bangs. I leaned into his touch. "It was only a matter of time. Devilish old coot is too clever for his own good. He was constantly in my way at Hogwarts, always where I never wanted him to be. Downright irritating he chose to reveal his hand to you, though. You know what that means, right?"

"No?"

"He's going to ask you to set up a meeting between us," he muttered. "When he does, go ahead and send him over. I'll talk with him here."

"Okay."

Tom grumbled something rather rude under his breath that made me giggle and kiss his nose, which in turn made him smile.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Bucket List Completed:

59. What does our love potion smell like?

64. Steal the Half-Prince book & give it back to Snape.

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

I have been persuaded into writing a lemon/ smut one shot for TomRosie by one of my dearest friends.

Whether it gets published is up to y'all.

If ya want it - please suggest a title name. I'm too ajdheeeeeeheheheheeeeksjkfjlwkdk to post it without sufficient peer pressure. Thank you.

Answer: A wand that would only work for me and can manipulate the odds of probability, it will be lovingly named Lucky.

Question: You must use this mythic weapon on a hero's journey. You are tasked with putting together a party of no more than three other people from across the multiverse to help you. Who do you choose to place in your party? Note: who you choose will retain the right to refuse to help you if you cannot persuade them.

Reviews are love!