The halls seemed to whisper throughout the day, generations of magic thrumming underneath the castle now obvious due to it being so empty. Tom came to notice this as they walked down to the kitchens, he could feel the power of the grounds reverberate through his body with each step.

His fingers were twined with hers, their hearts beating in unison. For now, they had the day to themselves as Dumbledore left to retrieve the time turner. Delilah hadn't been able to help her curiosity before the old wizard left.

"But how are you going to get it?" she had asked, He then explained that after all the chaos of the recent attack, security was in shambles as they scrambled to hold trials to try to figure out how Grindelwald could've gotten into the Ministry. Dumbledore was a man with many resources, it'd be easy for him to get one.

She was relieved, yet at the same time anger started to flare in the base of her heart. If it was so damn easy, why couldn't he have helped more when he sent them? Of course, just like them no had suspected Grindelwald to ambush them.

Nonetheless, it was reckless of him. A lot of things about him were reckless, no matter how calculated. Something just wasn't sitting right in her chest. Before Dumbledore stepped into his floo, she called out to him. "Professor, is the time turner the only reason you're going to the Ministry?" Even if security was fickle, Dumbledore was a very prominent figure. He wouldn't risk being caught so easily.

He looked at her for a moment, his blue eyes twinkling, then he smiled. It was small, nearly not there. "My personal affairs need not concern you, you have much ahead. Rest up and I shall return by the end of the day." And then he disappeared in a whirl of green flame.

Delilah snapped out of it when Tom reached forward and tickled the pear, shortly after the canvas swung open and they walked into the kitchens. They were empty, seeing as the elves go to secondary work when the castle is void of students and staff.

Tom's hand slipped from hers as he made his way to the massive supply cupboard, a feeling of longing drifting over her skin at the loss of contact. She watched as he went inside, the shelves were lined with supplies and other fresh produce, it automatically restocked to fit whatever needs.

She watched the curve of his neck as he tilted his head back to observe the upper shelves, the marks she'd left on him on show. Her eyes trailed to his hands and she felt hot all over again as she remembered the events that unfolded the day prior.

It wasn't like they've never done anything before, the first time they explored anything sexually was that night in the bath. However yesterday was the first time they went all the way. It was all very mind blowing. When she was with him, so intimately connected it was the closest thing to heaven she thought she'd ever get.

"What do you want to eat?"

Shaking her head, she came to find him standing in the doorway of the pantry, hands on his hips awaiting an answer. She wasn't hungry, her nerves had ruined her appetite but she knew she had to eat something sooner or later. Shrugging, she sat down at one of the tables, "just a sandwich is fine."

He nodded his head, "pasta it is."

Delilah rolled her eyes but didn't object as she watched him pile ingredients along one of the counter tops before lighting the large stove. "I don't like red sauce," she informed him and he scoffed but didn't comment further. She was pleased when he put the tomatoes back. Tom made quick work, his movements relaxed and practiced. Smiling, she rested her chin in her palm, "I didn't know you could cook."

He waved a spoon in a gesture that substituted as a shrug, "I learnt how when I was younger, I had to help out in the kitchens once I was old enough." Her brows furrowed before she realized he meant at the orphanage.

Standing up, she walked over and rested her head against his back, wrapping her arms around him as he worked on the sauce. It smelt heavenly. "What kind are you making?" Delilah mumbled into his shirt in the space between his shoulder blades, with his movements she could feel how his muscles worked.

"Basil cream sauce," he trailed and after a moment he raised a hand over his shoulder. Delilah was confused until she saw the greenish tinted sauce he had dappled onto the tip of his finger.

She flushed at what she was about to do, but pushed up on her toes and licked his finger, sucking it into her mouth for a mere moment. Tom nearly shivered as the warmness of her tongue seeped into his skin. The sensation inviting. He was the match and she was the matchbook, always lighting him on fire.

Delilah kissed the pad of his finger lightly and he went back to work, clearing his throat to get his thoughts in order.

"So?" he said, his voice a tad rough. Delilah smiled and he could feel the gesture against his back. "It taste good but I bet I could do better." He rolled his eyes, "sure you could. You'd probably set the whole bloody kitchen on fire."

"Shut up," she chastised halfheartedly.

As they ate they were silent for awhile. Tom had set a fire in one of the massive hearths that resided on the walls and the crack of flames coated their ears. Delilah watched how he moved so carefully, his etiquette clearly well practiced and it hit her how different life was about to be for him.

Tom was about to be thrown into a whole new reality, just like she had. Though she supposed he's a tad more prepared. Nonetheless, the world he was about to step into was one of modernity and chaos. Chaos his future self had caused. Though she wondered, seeing as she clearly changed the timeline, what would it be like now? Or would it still be the same, what if nothing was set in stone?

How am I going to explain this to Harry?

At the thought she visibly slumped, her shoulders caving and she buried her head in her hands. A part of her knew this was always coming, it didn't mean she was prepared.

How was she going to tell this to all her friends? All her friends whose lives had been torn apart. To Ginny, who'd gotten possessed. To Neville, whose parents were tortured. To Luna, who was taken prisoner. To Cho, whose boyfriend was murdered. To Ron, whose brother was killed. To Hermione, who had her skin cut into. To Harry... god Harry.

I'm sorry... her mind mentally cried out to The Boy Who Lived, but I love him.

Tom was staring at her, clearly sensing her shift in mood. "What's wrong?" Delilah sighed and lifted up her head, looking at him for a long moment. "You need to be careful," she began.

"I know."

"No, listen to me. You need to be careful. And I don't mean treading carefully about the timeline, I mean you need to be mindful. I know you can handle yourself but I need you to understand about what you're walking into."

Tom set his cutlery down, chewing slowly as he watched how dark her eyes had become. The softness had faded and now she dripped seriousness. "Listen, you , well I mean that future version of yourself," Delilah started again, pressing her hands flat to the table as if it'd help her focus.

He stiffened as flashes of that pale creature flashed in his mind.

"Okay I'm just gonna come out with it because it feels like I'm choking. Voldemort ruined a lot of lives. And my friends, the one's you're going to meet and you are going to deal with, have gotten Voldemort's fury at full swing. It is going to be very very difficult for them to come to terms with you being there, with me. I'm not even sure if they will come to terms."

Tom felt like a block of ice as Grindelwald's visions swam in his head, then he paled. "That boy," his voice cracked at the end, just barely and he had to clear his throat and roll his shoulders. "That child, the one with the green eyes and his mother... will he be there?"

Delilah sighed heavily and nodded, looking at him as he seemed to grow a bit pale. "That's Harry."

"The one with the invisibility cloak?"

She eyed him for a hard moment, "yes... but he's not going to handle you being there well. He's a good person but you have to understand he will undoubtedly like to see your head on a spike.. Voldemort killed his parents."

"We could just lie to him, I can take up a different name I look nothing like-"

"No, he's seen you around this age already."

He raised a brow, "how?"

Delilah bit her lip, debating but she knew there was no point in not telling him. "In our second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened again." Tom blinked at her, puzzlement gleaming behind his eyes. "How?"

"I wasn't completely sure what all happened but I've been able to piece it together lately. In our second year my friend Ginny found a diary, your diary, and you somehow possessed her and got her to reopen the chamber. You said it happened in your fifth year so I could only assume you were probably around sixteen. Harry confronted you, you were an echo but... still there. You were draining away Ginny's life for your own."

Delilah felt something in her stomach shift at the realization Tom's seemingly 'ghost' self was wreaking havoc on the castle when she was thirteen.

"What of the basilisk?"

It unnerved her how him possessing Ginny didn't trouble him, his main interest was clearly on the chamber. It wasn't like she just told him he almost killed a twelve year old girl for his own benefit. She clenched her jaw, "dead. Harry stabbed it through the skull with Gryffindor's sword."

A look of genuine surprise flickered over his face. He remembered how she'd also told him this Harry had defeated a troll their first year. "Harry seems like quite the character."

"He's been through a lot."

"So have you."

Delilah shook her head as she twirled Elio's necklace. "No he-" she squeezed her eyes shut. "Tom, please just be careful. Voldemort ripped his life apart, and he's still trying to. Harry's The Boy Who Lived."

"What does that mean?" Tom knew very well how tedious this mission would be, but the worry that was etched into Delilah's features was nearly painful.

"When Voldemort went to kill him, somehow the killing curse rebounded off him and hit Voldemort," she said slowly, watching as his jaw went slack. "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know, but for the next ten plus years it was believed Voldemort was defeated until he came back during our first year, then with the years to follow everything derailed. Voldemort returned in full our fourth year during the Tri-wizard tournament and he killed one of the students right in front of Harry, Cedric. Fifth year was hard on all of us. We broke into the Ministry."

Tom raised an eyebrow at her, apparently old habits die hard.

"We went to retrieve a prophecy, well we were helping Harry and we were ambushed by Voldemort and his followers. Harry's god father was killed right in front of him. Sixth year-" she stopped herself wringing her hands together. She didn't know if she should tell him this. But seeing as he was about to go the future she supposed he'd put it together himself. "Sixth year Harry watched Dumbledore get killed. It was the killing curse and he fell off the astronomy tower, Right into the middle of the courtyard. It was awful."

Tom's eyes seem to shoot out of his head. Sure, he never liked the old professor but nonetheless, Dumbledore was a very powerful wizard. He'd wished him dead many times but with the knowledge it actually happened was hard to digest.

"And then there was the Battle of Hogwarts," her voice trembled a bit and Tom reached over and gripped her hand. "You don't have to tell me, I know it's a lot." She nodded mutely, squeezing his hand and it only helped him calm down a little.

It was all a lot to take in, he was still trying to process her being from the future in the first place. But to actually know all the torment he condoned.. it was all confusing and he didn't know how to take it. A part of himself told him he should be satisfied, his old self. A part of him was pissed off at the weight of failure after failure, how continuously he had been defeated by a mere child. And the last part, the one that seemed the loudest, was disgust.

Achieving immortality has always been a becon for him, but with the future that's been presented to him, if that would be his reality, he wasn't sure if he wanted it. The sudden doubt in himself hit him like a bullet. He never doubted. Panic struck him, deep in his heart at the notion at what if it was too late? Tom had already made two horcruxes. His diary and his family ring.

His soul was already in shambles, yet, ever since Delilah those rifts had become less noticeable. After a moment, he cleared his throat again and pulled her hand forward, placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. "I'll be sure to watch my tongue."

"I'm serious, Tom."

"I know."

There was a pause as he stood up to clear the dishes, his mind trailing to what all he should expect in the next few days. Of all the people he was going to meet. It was like him and Delilah did a complete one-eighty. "Delilah," he began, crossing his arms and leaning on the counter as he looked at the fire place. She hummed.

"That woman, Bellatrix. Is she still alive?"

She nodded mutely, a prick of fear settling in her heart. Why didn't she even consider that? She was about to walk right back into a world where that mad woman was, where she could hurt her again.

Tom his cheek as his gaze turned to her, his eyes burying as they swirled into the heavy black that was found in the depths of an abyss. "Can I kill her?"

Delilah laughed, surprising them both, "are you asking permission?"

Walking over, her neck craned to look up at him. His eyes as well as his hand lightly danced over the bruises he'd left on her. It had been amusing watch Delilah try to hide them from Dumbledore. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he leaned down and placed a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm not asking permission, but when I do kill her at least you had a heads up."