Her gaze traveled towards the pile of dirt that lay a few yards away, her forehead pressed to the cool glass of the window. Had it really only been two days? It felt as if an eternity had passed. Delilah could vividly remember her falling to her knees when Dumbledore had arrived outside their wards with Elio's body. Thankfully, he'd already cleaned the body of blood and fixed him with new robes. Ready for burial.

  Shaking her head, Delilah's blank stare swept over the room. It was a mess, she didn't care. Tom didn't bother to clean up either, allowing her time to cope in a way she saw fit. Now that she thought of him, she hadn't seen Tom since the funeral. They still needed to talk, about so much. Imagining how the conversation would go felt exhausting. Everything felt exhausting. She hadn't eaten anything but a muffin and she slept most of the time. Not dreaming, not having nightmares, just.. sleep. Her mind was void and she was thankful for it.

  There was a light tap on the door and she called for them to come in, her voice quiet. The door creaked open, and in walked Dumbledore. Oh right, she thought, she forgot he was still at the house. He sighed through his nose at the state of her, but didn't comment. Instead he gestured towards the couch that resided next to the fireplace and she mutely nodded.

  Sinking into the fabric, he conjured himself a chair and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, after running a hand through his graying hair, he spoke. "How are you?" She gestured to the room, "how do you think?" He leaned back, taking in the dark circles that hung under her eyes.

  "It was painless, I want you to know that. When it happened, the nerves in his spinal chord shut down the transmission of pain to his brain. The most he felt was tired."

  Delilah inhaled deeply, slowly exhaling through her nose as she stared at the floor. She didn't know if that was supposed to make her feel better. "It's not fair," she eventually said, wringing her hands as she recalled Elio pushing her out of the way. "I know, and I am sorry." Dumbledore spoke softly. She was thankful for his patience with her. 

  "You know," he began, pulling a lemon drop from his robes and offering her one, she shook her head. "He left a mark on you. I wasn't sure, but from what the other's described, when magic exploded from you, that was because of him."

  She bit at her lip as she pulled her knees up to her chest, "what do you mean?"

  He looked at her for a moment, his eyes twinkling in the afternoon light that filtered into the room. "It's called sacrificial protection. It's an ancient, powerful, and long lasting counter charm. It is endowed when one person ultimately sacrifices their own life willingly and out of deep, pure love to save the life of someone.

  "Elio died to save you, and I know you will forever carry that weight. The love he had for you was powerful enough to leave a mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who had loved us is gone, will give some protection forever." He watched as tears welled in her eyes, her hand gripping her necklace with white knuckles. 

  She closed her eyes, hot tears streaking down her cheeks. She loved him, she truly did, but now he was gone and she couldn't do a damn thing about it. If she had never had come to the past, Elio would still be alive.

  "I don't know if this is the most appropriate time but," Dumbledore cleared his throat and pulled at the tufts of his beard. "I can offer you another time turner." 

  Delilah froze, feeling as if her ears were playing a trick on her. "What?" Her eyes burned as she looked up at him, blinking through her tears and she sniffed, wiping at her cheeks with her sleeve. "I can't go back to the Ministry-"

  He shook his head, "you won't have to, and you don't have to give me an answer now. This is completely on me. I shouldn't have sent you there in the first place."

  No, you shouldn't have. 

  Her chest burned in anger. They handled themselves in the Ministry just fine, it was the ambush from Grindelwald that crumbled them. She hated being treated like a child, though from Dumbledore's perspective they were all children. 

  "Speaking of, Aleksander." He watched as she stiffened, her jaw straining in fury at the mention of the traitor's name. "I understand you're angry. You have every right to be. But rest assured he will be handled in all due time. I'd imagine he already has a cell in Azkaban waiting for him."

  She shook her head, "that's not enough." 

  "Miss Meddows, let me handle this. Let officials handle this. Despite everything, he is also just a child."

  "He got innocent people killed," she spat, standing to her feet as she begin to pace. 

  "And what of Tom?"

  Delilah halted, but refused to look at him. "What about him?"

  Dumbledore shook his head, whether at her or himself, he wasn't sure. "I'm not going to voice it, for you already know what I'm going to say. Heed this, how is Tom any different than Aleksander?"

  "Because I don't love Aleksander. That's why it's different." Her voice cracked at the end and she shut her eyes, leaning her head against the bed's post. "And don't you dare lecture me. You know damn well how hard this is."

  And he did, Dumbledore deflated at the mention of Grindelwald, but he didn't dare venture further on how she was being biased. It wouldn't matter. He stood up, Delilah watching him warily as he approached. "All I ask you is this, have mercy on the boy."

  She stared at him, her royal blue eyes dark as a storm and she nodded mutely. He shook his head, "promise me, Delilah."

  Her throat felt dry as she ran her tongue along her teeth, the words feeling like venom as they left her tongue. "I promise." He smiled softly, giving her shoulder a squeeze before leaving the room. 

  Delilah's jaw set. This wouldn't be the first promise she broke, and it wouldn't be her last.

  When Elio died, whatever seed of good nature he planted within her heart had gone along with him. For in that moment, La Belle Dame sans Merci arose from the blood he'd spilled.  

  A soft breeze slid over her skin as she jolted awake, rolling over she saw Tom sat on a chair by the open window, smoking. His eyes fixated on the grave in the distance. It almost seemed to glow, despite the moon being covered by clouds.

  She hesitated getting up, not quite sure how to approach him. At the moment, he seemed calm, for the most part. The cigarette undoubtedly helping his nerves. 

  As she slid out of bed, her leg was stiff as she grimaced at all the scars that twirled around her skin. She felt like in the end, there wouldn't be an inch of her that wasn't marred or ruined. As she walked towards him, she pulled the over sized jumper closer to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest. If he knew she was awake, he didn't make any indication.

  "Hey," she eventually said, her voice a whisper. He flinched and she frowned, that was unlike him. Tom put the cigarette out and tossed it out the window, something she would've scolded him for. He turned to look at her, most of his face hidden in shadow so she couldn't read him. She said the first thing that came to mind. "I don't know what to apologize for first."

  He stood up and she hadn't the mind to back away, they stood close now but didn't touch. He didn't look angry, which Delilah supposed she was grateful for, but she couldn't read his expression. She sighed and rubbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry for everything. For lying to you this entire time. I had to, but I'm not going to make up excuses. I know I should've trusted you with the truth, I was just scared."

  Tom blinked at her, turning the information over in his head, "scared of what?" His voice was a rasp and Delilah didn't realize how much she missed it. She rubbed at her cheek before walking over to sit on the bed. "I don't know, of what would happen when you found out. I thought you'd be furious, which you might be, and you have every right to be. I thought you'd tell me to leave and never come back. I thought..." she took a deep breath. "I was scared that if you found out what you become that you wouldn't mind. That'd you like it."

  She wasn't meeting his gaze and he felt as if he'd been hit across the face. "Why would you ever think I'd want to become that creature." His tone wasn't accusatory, it was shocked, and despite himself, it was hurt.

  Throwing up her hands in frustration, she felt like hitting something. "I don't know! I don't know. I never know, and I feel so stupid. All of the time. I don't know anything when it comes to you and how you feel and it's exhausting." She buried her head in her hands and stiffened when she felt the bed dip next to her. They still weren't touching. 

  "Did you know?" He started, staring at the empty fireplace across the room. "Did you know what I was all along?" He didn't know what answer to expect, he didn't know what answer he wanted to hear. Either seemed terrible. Delilah shook her head, "no, I didn't know until I got my memory back of what happened in the woods at Cain's." How long ago that seemed. Tom nodded once, digesting the information. Now her fear of him that day made sense. When she stared at him in such horror. She even blew a hole in the wall just to get away from him. 

  "How do you even," he began but sighed, rubbing at his own eyes in exhaustion. He hadn't slept. "How can you stand it? Looking at me, talking to me, even now sitting next to me. How could you say you love me when you know I'm him."

  Delilah looked at him and finally took his hand, his skin warm and sending waves of comfort through her. He wanted to shrug her off, for her own good. He just couldn't, he almost lost her, she was about to go home, and despite all the chaos of the past few days, she was still there. With him. 

  "That's not you." 

  Tom wanted to laugh, she sounded so sure. "It will be."

  "No, it won't. Of all things, of all the lies I've told, believe me on this and I promise you. I'm here now," she took a breath as she searched his features. Of the dark curls that were wild upon his head, resting above his brow like a crown. His burnt coffee eyes that turned an inky black within a moment and his soft lips. Her heart felt true in that moment, "and I'm staying."

  It was late, the house was quiet, and all was peaceful. Delilah padded silently down the hall, the call of the eleventh hour ringing in her head like a soldier running to war. She was calm, so much so she felt like she could sense the house breathe and the turn of the earth. Her face was neutral, her lips only tugged upward in a slight smile, her light pink, silken nightie hanging from her shoulders like one of those Rococo paintings.

  She stopped as she got to her destination, her heart beating in her ears as if it was a clock, telling her to hurry up. Delilah lifted a hand and knocked once, and he asked who it was. "It's Delilah," her voice was of honeyed wine, slipping off her tongue and it swirled in the air, and through the door. There was a pause, and he called for her to come in. She smiled as she opened the door, her white wand held lightly in her grasp. Just as the door shut behind her, there was a bright flash of red. 

  The house heard the screams, but decided to keep sleeping.