Rough stone dug into his knees as he landed harshly on the ground. The wind had been knocked out of him and it took a moment to register his surroundings. They had landed in Hogsmeade by the looks of it, seeing as no one could apparate on Hogwarts grounds.

Standing up, Tom swayed on his feet and had to latch onto a post dug into the ground to catch his balance. His anger at Delilah attempting to leave him there didn't have time to simmer in his veins when he heard her scream. Whirling around, she laid on the ground a few feet away, her whole body jerking spasmodically. Running over, the sight of crimson was the first thing to grace his vision.

Delilah had gotten splinched on her left leg, chunks of her skin missing in an odd, swirling pattern. And it itched. She made to grab at her leg, a weak attempt to alleviate the pain somehow but Tom quickly tore her hands away.

He didn't have anything on his to heal the wound properly and he cursed under his breath before scrambling to dig his wand out from his back pocket. Tom quickly began to try to stop the bleeding, but there was so much it was hard to tell if anything was happening.

Delilah let out another sound of affliction when a door was suddenly thrown open behind them. "Oi, keep it down will you?" Tom didn't pay the person any kind, his attention solely on Delilah. However when she looked up, it was an old man with a white wiry beard, and his eyes seemed to twinkle slightly.

She was sweating, but seeing him brought the slightest bit of comfort. She knew exactly who that was. It was Dumbledore, just not the one she was looking for.

The man began to walk away but Delilah blurted out the words before she could think properly, "you're Aberforth Dumbledore."

He paused and took a second before turning around, blinking at her. Tom finally snapped out of it slightly and looked up, he did look awfully similar to Dumbledore. Though he never knew he had a brother. Aberforth tugged at his beard slightly as he observed the mess in front of him before begrudgingly muttering for them to come inside.

Tom placed his wand between his teeth before carefully maneuvering Delilah into a sitting position. For the most part he stopped the bleeding, but her skin was still a ghastly red and her torn flesh practically screamed in agitation. Throwing an arm over his shoulder, Tom slowly stood up and helped her walk inside the Hogs Head Inn.

Aberforth weaves between the empty tables, taking them to a back room just Incase someone decided to walk in. Not that he was expecting any business that day.

Delilah slumped in a wooden chair, her arm slipping off his shoulders too soon and she hissed in pain through her clenched teeth. "Do you have any dittany?" Tom asked as he kneeled down in front of her, the trim of her dress was soaked with blood and he pushed it up her leg to avoid it sticking to the wound.

Aberforth made a sound from the back of his throat and a few seconds later he handed a bottle to Tom. He uncorked the bottle and looked up at her, "this is going to sting." She nodded her head, trying to calm her breathing. "I'll be fine."

"A lot."

"Just pour the fucking potion-" her sentence was cut off as a scream as he poured droplets onto her leg. On instinct she kicked out and Tom grunted as her knee hit him under his ribs, but nonetheless he held her leg down. Greenish smoke billowed upward as the healing herb did its job. Tom watched curiously as the wound started to close, new muscle and skin growing and stretching over the opened flesh.

The wound now looked several days old; though it still burned slightly.

Looking down she frowned at the new scars that took over most of her thigh, ones she knew magic couldn't remove.

"You handled that better than one would expect," Aberforth motioned to her leg before offering her a tankard. Tom and Delilah has forgotten he was even in the room.

"Butterbeer?" she asked, taking the drink almost greedily.

He raised a brow, "no, child. Whiskey."

"Good," she downed it and felt the alcohol bite at her taste buds, it was bitter but she welcomed it. Tom grew awfully quiet as he stood and walked away towards the empty fireplace. His eyes were trained on a painting of a young girl, questions on repeat in his head, nearly making him dizzy.

Why did she try to leave him? Why did she come here? Was she looking for Dumbledore? How'd she know he had a brother?

He looked out of it, and Delilah wanted to reach out but thought best against it. If she were in his shoes, she'd undoubtedly be pissed.

"How do you know who I am?" Aberforth spoke after a minute, settling himself down in a chair. He looked so much like his brother, though older yet he lacked the feeling of being ancient that Albus possessed. Either way, Delilah knew she could tell him the the truth, he may even be able to give her some insight on her predicament.

But the sudden sensation of Tom's eyes on her made her close her mouth, pressing her lips into a line. Taking another drink, she turned her attention towards the painting as well before an idea popped in her head. "Your brother told me about you."

Aberforth scoffed slightly, "I highly doubt that, Albus likes to act as if I don't even exist."

"That's not true."

"What would you know, girl-"

"I know about Ariana."

Aberforth went still, eyeing her for a long moment before glancing at the portrait of his little sister he had lost so long ago. The more he observed between the portrait and Delilah, he couldn't ignore their slight resemblance. Slowly he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the old wooden table. "Why would he tell you?"

Dumbledore technically didn't, but Aberforth needn't know that. "He told me a lot of things, including the situation with Grindelwald. But he wasn't exactly clear," Delilah spared a glance at Tom, hoping she could find a way to fix this. Perhaps Aberforth could provide an explanation to ease Tom's suspicions, to reassure him there was no way in hell Grindelwald even knows her or would specifically be after them.

He sighed after a moment, his eyes glazing over, his mind elsewhere, "brother was a fool."

A heavy silence blanketed over the room, and Delilah found herself almost desperate to light a fire despite it being in the middle of summer. Finally however, Aberforth cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, tugging at his beard again.

"She was the youngest of the Dumbledore children, also the only daughter. Our mother was delighted to have another female in the house. Though at the age of six, a group of muggle boys saw her practicing magic. Just small stuff, such as making flowers bloom within seconds or making a twig spin in the air. Nonetheless, it traumatized her, what they did. She was never right again. She wouldn't use magic, but she couldn't get rid of it; it turned inward and drove her mad, it exploded out of her when she couldn't control it, and at times she was strange and dangerous. But mostly she was sweet and scared and harmless."

Tom tilted his head to the side at the description, that sounded oddly similar to what an obscurus.

"Later on, when she was around fourteen, there was an incident. Ariana had accidentally caused an explosion that killed our mother. Thus bestowing role of the guardian to the eldest, Albus. A role which he resented. Shortly after he returned home, Grindelwald was also in the Hollow to visit his aunt. Lo and behind, the two hit it off. Similar ambitions, both intelligent beyond good measure. And he neglected our dear sister."

The disgust in his voice as he talked about his brother was evident. Delilah has only known the basics of Ariana's tale, and whether Aberforth's telling was influenced by his anger was true, it was still heartbreaking.

"They has made big plans to pursue their dreams, claiming that overruling muggles was for the greater good, and of course I confronted them. Ariana was in no state to be dragged along. Grindelwald became furious, insisting that once they subdued the Muggles, there would be no need for Ariana to be hidden." A weight suddenly dropped on the man's shoulders and he rubbed at his eyes as the painful memory shot forward. "A three-way duel broke out between us, Albus, Grindelwald, and I. Ariana, was still unable to control her magic, bless her she tried to stop it, and was inadvertently killed; Dumbledore's spell if the one that did it."

Venom was dripping off his tongue, but his expression softened slightly as he looked up at Ariana's painting.

Delilah bit at her cheek as she soaked in the telling. She knew that it was never known which of the three wizards was directly responsible for her death, but that didn't make it any less painful.

Tom himself had leaned forward in interest, he never pegged Dumbledore to have so much... depth. The man seemed so self-contained yet he fell into the likes of a future Dark Lord, and he may have inadvertently killed his sister. His eyes then drifted to Delilah, from her golden hair down to her newly injured leg. She had so many marks now, so many scars inflicted due to other people's actions.

"Of course, it's slightly shocking how Grindelwald hasn't already won yet."

Delilah raised a brow, running a nail absentmindedly along a dent in the wooden table. "What do you mean?"

"Grindelwald is extremely well versed in divination, he may even be a seer"

Her whole body went rigid, one would assume she was a statue left out in the snow.

"How?" Tom spoke for the first time since they landed in Hogsmeade, but Delilah barely registered his voice. Her breathing was so shallow to the point it felt suffocating.

If Grindelwald was a seer, did he know who she was?

"It's believed he used something to push along his abilities, though nothing of the usual sort. No tea leaves, no crystal ball. Rumor has it it's a skull, light weight and fragile, and able to portray visions for all to see."

Tom felt his pulse spike, that description matched the one he read about in that artifacts book he had. The object he needed, the object that would help him win. "Does he still have it?" The eagerness in his voice was almost evident.

Aberforth chuckled, "probably not, most likely why he's out in hiding now. Said rumor believed it was lost during one of the battles, now hidden away somewhere in the Ministry."

"The Department of Mysteries," Tom and Delilah said in unison.

He looked excited, but one glance at her made his features fall. "Delilah."

She blinked a few times, her vision had gone foggy and she turned to him, "what?" She followed where his eyes had moved and became acutely aware of something warm on her skin. Furrowing her brow, she reached up a hand and touched the space below her nose.

Pulling it away, crimson coated her fingertips. Oh Merlin's beard, not again.

"I'm fine."

She sniffed, but her nose continued to bleed despite her trying to clear it with her wand. An itch then clawed up her throat, Delilah tried her best to ignore it but the feeling became incessant as her eyes started to water. Finally a cough broke through and a series of more violent ones followed, pulling away her arm she saw speckles of red.

She started to choke and Tom was out of his seat and at her side within mere seconds, a cautious hand on her back as he too tried to stop her coughing fit and bleeding. Delilah began to stand up, and before Tom cold protest her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed.

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When she came to, her body laid heavily on a rickety bed, the springs digging into her back uncomfortably. The room was wall and the ceiling hung low with cracked and aged wooden boards. Alcohol was still apparent in the air, so she could only assume they were still at the Inn.

Aberforth was across the room mixing what appeared to be herbs in a cauldron while Tom was stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at her both in concern, confusion, and fascination. Before she could open her mouth, Tom raised a hand silencing her. Slowly and reluctantly she pressed her lips into a line.

It took him a moment to get his wits about him, though what was confusing him was lost on her. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your... peculiar condition."

Delilah raised a brow and clicked her tongue for a second as she tried to put whatever puzzle pieces he was throwing at her together. She came up fruitless, "what condition?"

"How long have you had it? Answer me that at least."

"I could if you would tell me what the hell you're talking about."

"You really don't know?"

She shrugged her shoulders and Tom nearly wanted to smile at how childlike she was in that moment. Alas, he settled for taking in a slow breath, debating on how he could properly tell her. When Aberforth explained it to him, her condition was relatively confusing and it took a moment for both men to wrap their heads around it. Even then, Aberforth wasn't entirely sure what caused it, or how it was even possible.

"It appears, somehow, that your psychical processes have been time looped." He said it slowly, gauging her reaction. Delilah merely blinked at him, not having the slightest clue what he meant. Though when he said 'time' she stiffened. Her bewilderment clouded her features, though. "Meaning?"

He scratched the back of his neck, "your body clock is frozen. But there's something wrong, besides the obvious of course." He walked around and sat on the edge of the bed. The smell of cigarettes hit her harder than it usually did and she crinkled her nose.

"Putting something in a stasis isn't new, it's usually done to preserve a body. You however, to be quite honest it's fascinating, I didn't think managing keeping someone cognitively and physically functioning would even be possible-"

"Tom," she poked his arm slightly, urging him to get to the point. Though she had to admit, him rambling because he was excited was endearing.

"You're frozen, in a sense, but also not at the same time. They're butting heads. Some force is keeping your brain activity going. And though your heart is pumping, it's being strained so severely that blood flow is minimum. Thus, is why you're cold all the time, you almost have no circulation. Yet," he wrapped his hand around her wrist and squeezed slightly. "There's a pulse."

Lifting her hand, he placed a chaste kiss above her scar and she looked towards Aberforth shyly. "And there's a blush, which means blood is moving." Delilah tugged her hand out of his hold and shifted on the mattress slightly. "So... what does that all mean?"

"Well it's obvious someone did this to you."

"What do you mean someone did this?" Panic gripped at her nerves and she sat up, looking between Aberforth and Tom. The old man sighed through his nose slightly as he peered at her over his glasses. "There's magic coursing through you. It's very intricate and sophisticated, seeing as you appear to be normal and for the most part it's undetectable."

Delilah sat for a moment, utter disbelief had fallen on her shoulders, she couldn't think of anyone who would do such a thing. "Well, can you undo it?"

"We can," Tom said carefully, picking at a loose thread of a blanket before standing up to go over to the window. "But we won't."

Her brows furrowed and she scoffed, "and why's that?" As she watched his jaw clench, she realized she wouldn't be getting an answer out of him. "Why not?" She forced her question at Aberforth, agitation building up inside of her, about to topple.

He looked between Tom and Delilah for a moment before shaking his head. "whatever magic is running through you, very well may be keeping you alive. If we remove it, there's a high possibly you could drop dead within seconds. Whoever did this, whether it was malevolent intent or not, did this to prolong your life by... well, by freezing it. Though clearly something isn't quite right, Riddle here tells me this isn't the first time you started to profusely bleed out."

She shook her head slightly, trying to wrap her mind around it all. Looking down at her hands, she stretched her fingers and observed how her bones moved. Assuring herself she was alive and actually there, this wasn't some messed up dream. The stark blueness of her veins seemed to jump out through her pale skin the longer she looked. No, she was fine. She had to be. Her mind was working just fine, she was functioning. She could move, think, talk, eat.

Time travel couldn't be responsible for this, loads of people have time traveled and she's never read an instance where this was the consequence.

"But what if I'm fine? What if you remove whatever curse, hex, whatever the hell it is- What if you remove it and I'm fine? Perhaps this was an accident?"

Tom's dry laugh made her turn her head. He was still staring out the window and only then did she realize it was dark out. "It wasn't an accident, it couldn't be."

"Even then, why not at least try?"

"Leave us," Tom's voice cut through the air, directly aimed at Aberforth and he raised a brow. Delilah sucked in a slight breath and squeezed her eyes shut, she was starting to get a headache. Looking over at Aberforth, she mustered up a light smile, "he meant please." The man scoffed but shuffled out of the room nonetheless. As soon as the door shut, Tom waved his hand, undoubtedly putting a silencing charm on the room.

"Why on earth would you risk your life so carelessly like that? That's quite imprudent if you." His voice had raised a bit more than usual as he started to pace in front of the bed, his eyes looking everywhere but at her.

Following his movements made her a tad dizzy so instead she focused her attention on the blanket covering her. "I'm not risking anything, I'm sure I would remember if I was on the verge of death."

The words tasted sour in Delilah's mouth as realization dawned on her. The last memory she had before she got thrown into the 1940s was being tortured by Voldemort. Of course she couldn't tell Tom that. Either way, it didn't make sense. For one, she was almost positive Voldemort wouldn't want to keep her alive. Unless it was just because he wanted to prolong her suffering.

"Delilah, one's body isn't just put into a stasis if they're perfectly healthy. The probability of something going wrong is much too high for you to even consider undoing it."

"But what if I'm fine, I'm sure if there was something wrong with me it'd show up on any of your tests."

"No. I'm not doing that, I can't, you might... I can't." He slumped in a chair across the room, his hands on his knees as his palms pressed against his eyes. He couldn't even begin to fathom the possibility of her dying, especially if he was the one to cause it.

"How could you even ask that of me?"

He'd gone quieter, his voice considerably soft and she felt her frustration at him drain away. Twirling her necklace, she tugged at the chain slightly, simply just to feel the tension of it against her neck. "I didn't think it would bother you that much, to be quite honest."

He lifted his head, an expression of incredulity on his face. "Do you really believe I care for you so little?"

Delilah bit at her cheek. One minute he could make her feel like the most special person on earth while the next he acted as if he despised her existence. For once, she told him the truth.

"I don't know."

Getting out of bed took more effort than she was ready for, but she pushed on nonetheless. Tom watched as she crossed the room warily, she stumbled slightly but caught her balance as she reached the desk. He tilted his head, looking up at her, deciphering what her next move might be. Or perhaps she didn't have one at all.

Carefully, as if she wasn't sure of herself, Delilah stepped closer and rested her hands on his shoulders. A slight sigh of what must've been relief passed her lips as Tom's arms wrapped around her and he pared the distance between them. He rested his face just below her breast, the rise and fall of her ribs calming him slightly. Delilah took to running her fingers through his hair lightly. "I want to make this work, but we need to tell each other things. Or else there's too much room for doubt to creep in."

He was silent for awhile, though they didn't budge from their position. For the time being, he took in the way her nails felt against his scalp and when she occasionally ran a hand over his back, the chills that erupted on his skin were unwarranted.

"You're asking me to promise something that's not in my power," the soft rumbling baritone of his voice danced around her, nearly maki g her ears ring with the suddenness of it.

"What do you mean?"

He shifted his hold and looked up at her, watching how her chest rose and fell slightly in a steady pattern. He didn't know how to explain himself, well he did, he just feared she might get angered at his reasoning.

Tom could promise actions and words, all to demonstrate affection. Though they would be sparse and out of the public's eye. But he couldn't promise her what she wanted, what she may be subconsciously asking of him. Feelings are involuntary, and promising them to someone is brash and in his opinion; reckless.

Though when it came to her, that's all he ever seemed to be.

Delilah could tell he was struggling with some inner battle and ran her thumb along his cheekbone for a moment before mustering up a soft smile. "If you do care... that's enough."

Coffee brown eyes poured into her crystalline ones, swirling and invading her attention, making her feel as if she was hurtling through space. He stood up slowly, and with the action his arms raised over her. One arm stayed wrapped around her waist while his other hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. When he spoke, she almost didn't hear him.

"We both know that won't be enough."

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Please VOTE & COMMENT if you enjoyed!!

And Happy Halloween!!! (Depending on your time zone) I hope it's spooky! I'm gonna spend my time watching the classics like Corpse Bride, Nightmare Before Christmas, Caroline, et cetera.

Anyway, also check out the short story I started if you want to!! It's "To an Unsolicited Mind" and it's a Tom Riddle/OC (though not Delilah) it'll be around 13 chapters and it originally just started as a wip

Also booksofthepotter I love you!!! I hope you enjoy this chapter and that you have a great day/night, as well as to all my readers!! <3 it means the world to me that people are taking time out of their day to sit down and read my fic, as well as comment