Flinching as someone suddenly sat down next to him, his pumpkin juice slightly spilled everywhere. "Merlin, Olive," Pyrrhus grumbled, not seeing how she's in such a good mood at an early hour.

Reaching for some toast, she simply smiled at him, as well as the group. "I'm coming along."

They all looked at her with questioning glances, before looking at each other, trying to decipher who told her.

"I over heard you lot, you really should be more observant of your surroundings."

Delilah nodded and took a long drink of her coffee, not missing the slight disgust in Tom's eyes; he hated coffee. "Yes, I seem to be having trouble with that lately." Not only did Olive overhear, but Aleksander as well. Perhaps it was meant to be, seeing as he's the one providing a way into the Ministry.

"Oh, and I invited Aurora."

"Fuck sake," Pyrrhus muttered.

Abraxas choked on his food and stared at Olive incredulously. Not at all wanting his girlfriend involved in this little Ministry plan.

__________________________________

Delilah was just leaving her advanced arithmetics class when her professor gave her a piece of parchment. As she left out the door, she was met with Tom leaning against the wall. Was he waiting for her?

She didn't bother to ask and kept walking, and he easily fell in step next to her. "That's most likely for your final meeting," he said simply, the crowd of students easily parting ways for both him and Delilah.

"Final meeting?" she muttered, undoing the seal and quickly skimming over the letter. As soon as she was finished, she couldn't help rolling her eyes and shoving it half heartedly in her bag. Meeting with Slughorn about career paths was the last thing she could care about.

His lips twitched slightly at her obvious annoyance. "Give him hell, why don't you?" With the slight nod of his head, the two departed ways at the foot of a hall. Delilah watched him walk away, the way he carried himself looking impressive as ever. Twirling her necklace, she pivoted and made way for the dungeons.

Barely a knock in, the old wooden door flung open and she was met with a smiling Potions Professor. "Ah, Miss Pontmercy! Come in, come in," Slughorn beamed and gestured for her to follow him into his office.

Sitting herself down, she watched as he waddled his way slightly around his desk, seeing as it was a narrow fit. She could've sworn she heard the wood creak from his plush chair the moment his weight was settled. "Now, then," he opened a drawer, not to bring out paperwork, but candied pineapple.

"What career are your eyes set on? Many options are open to you considering your grades, and I'd be happy to give you a letter of recommendation."

Delilah sighed slightly through her nose, wishing she could be anywhere but where she actually was. This meeting didn't matter, not in hindsight anyway. She wouldn't be staying in this time for much longer, and she was also adamant on getting this little interview over with as soon as possible.

Then her whole brain went 'what the hell' and she blurted the first thing to come to mind, "A job at the Ministry. The Department of Mysteries sounds rather appealing."

Slughorn blinked once before a bolstering laugh left his lips, making his mustache dance in the process. "Ambition indeed! Oh splendid, imagine one of my students running the Department of Mysteries! Oh splendid indeed." He laughed again and shook his head affectionately before turning to a shelf he had set up on the far wall. "You just might make the front, my dear."

Turning slightly in her seat, Delilah's eyes glanced over all the students he had framed, all in varying degrees of succession. She also didn't fail to miss how Tom already had his frame up, front and center; Slughorn's current prized pupil. Delilah couldn't help but snicker.

"That boy would make a fine Minister," he muttered while he rummaged in his desk for a moment. Slughorn pulled out a decent sized stack of parchment before handing it over the desk. "That should have all the information you need, come to me if you have any questions."

With a tight lipped smile and nod, Delilah hurriedly got up and bid her Head of house ado. Just as she shut the door, she heard him shouting something about the Slug Club dinners she's 'accidentally' missed.

Shaking her head, Delilah leafed through the papers half interested. Admittedly, a job in the Department of Mysteries would be exciting. However, she wasn't going to get her hopes up seeing as the Ministry was basically obsolete in her own time, over run by Death Eaters and the like.

Nearing the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Delilah rounded the corner with her eyes still trained on the papers and ran right into someone. Falling on her ass and dropping everything in the process.

"Jesus fuck," she winced.

"Language."

Of course it was him. Delilah didn't even bother to look up as she got on her knees and started to collect the papers, half expecting him to help. With the seconds ticking by however, she finally glanced upwards only to find Tom leaning against the wall watching her in amusement. His hands unhelpfully shoved in his pockets.

"Fat load of good you are," She grumbled as she got to her feet, blowing the hair out of her face since it was tussled with her clumsiness.

He didn't care to respond and glanced at one of the pieces of parchment, "Ministry worker? I don't think they could handle you."

Rolling her eyes, Delilah smacked him lightly on the chest with said papers, "says the soon to be school teacher." Continuing her walk to the common room, Tom fell in step beside her, though he had to slow his pace slightly due to her significantly shorter legs.

He was slightly surprised she even remembered, the day they fell into the Great Lake seemed like ages ago.

"Children adore me."

Delilah snorted before saying the password and making her way into the common room. It was relatively empty, mostly consisting of fourth to fifth year students, all of which were cramming for exams.

"What subject?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts."

He was met with her laughter, laughter to the point where her shoulders bounced and her cheeks turned red. Tom analyzed and catalogued her expression and the sound of it before raising an eyebrow.

Delilah took in his questioning glance and tried to stifle her laughter with a hand, but it was rather difficult. She couldn't help herself. Lord Voldemort, defending the youth from the Dark Arts? The irony was nearly painful. She also couldn't help but think about how everyone was miserable when Snape took over DADA.

"Poor kids."

There was a brief pause as they came to stop near the fireplace. Her nails lightly grazed over the snake carved into the marble before she blurted out, "I think you'd make a wonderful teacher." Because he would, he had the passion and skills needed.

However, Delilah knew he never would become a professor. Part of her wondered how different he would've been if he did end up teaching at Hogwarts.

Tom would've been under constant supervision from Dumbledore year after year, so maybe, just maybe things would've turned out for the better. Then a question suddenly arose; why didn't he end up teaching?

He watched the movements of her hand for a moment, taking in her words and registering them. Did she really think so? He kept telling himself that her opinion didn't matter, but he also couldn't ignore the sudden lightness he felt.

Instead of divulging any of this, Tom brought a slight smirk to his lips and looked down at her. "Yes, I would."

"Oh, don't get all cock-sure, remind me never to compliment you again." She jabbed him in the chest with one finger but quickly drew her hand away. Just then she realized how peculiar this all was. Joking about with him, the soon to be Dark Wizard.

As she watched his brows furrow, Delilah knew that he wasn't that yet. He just wasn't. It was beyond complicated to wrap her mind around.

Because in moments like these, standing by a crackling fire and encompassing one another, it felt normal. Perhaps she could pretend it was.

________________________________

Two days passed of Delilah wandering about the castle, attempting to keep herself busy as everyone else was studying. Currently, she was leaning against the fountain in the courtyard, flipping through a book and eating pepper imps.

Spring had finally reared it's head, warming the air and making the flowers grow. She even considered heading out to the Forbidden Forest, anxious to see what new life had bloomed.

"Delilah Meddows?"

Bones felt like marble as she froze, her eyes glued to the page and her breathing suddenly falling shallow. The only other person who knew her name was Dumbledore, and that voice definitely did not belong to the old wizard.

Slowly looking up, Delilah was met with a fourth year Hufflepuff. She looked like she'd just been petrified. The girls eyes were wide and glimmering, her fiery red locks sticking up in odd directions.

Blinking as a weak attempt to clear her thoughts, Delilah swallowed dryly and mustered up a smile. "I beg your pardon?"

Suddenly shooting forward, the girl gripped Delilah's hand and tugged, growing nearly frantic. "Please you must come with me, you must. There isn't enough time. Time. Oh what a funny thing that must be to you, time doesn't account for you at all."

What the fuck is happening? Did she know who she was? Delilah's never seen her before. So many questions rang in her head, but the girl tugged again and yanked Delilah up to her feet.

She was left stumbling after the girl as she practically dragged her through the school grounds, both completely oblivious to the odd glances they were receiving. All of Delilah's questions landed on deaf ears.

They turned one corner and Delilah felt the blood fall from her face, leaving her cheeks oddly cold.

The Divination classroom.

Trying her best to tug her arm out of the vice like grip the Hufflepuff had, it was a failed attempt as she was lead up the ladder.

The classroom was empty but the atmosphere still felt dense and congested, due to the heavy drapes cast over the windows and the blazing fire. It all made Delilah feel dizzy.

Just as she turned to look at the girl, hands were placed on her shoulders and she was shoved into a chair.

"You're so far away from home."

Her lips felt heavy as she tried to speak, everything was happening much too quickly, Delilah couldn't keep up. Whatever she was going to say died on her tongue as she watched the girls eyes turn a foggy gray, gazing off like she was witnessing something terrific yet invisible. Perhaps she was.

"And soon you'll be even further."

"What does that mean?" She cut in quickly, her tone sharp as panic ran up her spine.

"You're lost, so very lost. Both in the body and soul, and it's so dark. It's like it's divided, oh Merlin the things that you'll do."

"Stop talking," Delilah went to stand up and bolt out the door, but the girl raised her hand and she froze. Nothing could move but her eyes, a veil of what seemed to be a paralysis had covered Delilah.

"Everything has its time, and everything ends. The clock will be striking the eleventh hour soon and you mustn't hesitate, you mustn't. Find that which you love, and let it kill you. It's the only way."

The girls eyes then rolled to the back of her head, her hand falling as well when she collapsed to the floor. Delilah remained frozen for a moment, not even aware she was now free to move. The Hufflepuff obviously had the Sight, but pure denial was coursing through Delilah.

Jumping to her feet, barely a glance was spared at the poor girl as Delilah ran away. She practically fell down the ladder in order to put distance between them.

Her chest was heaving but she didn't feel it, must've been the adrenaline. Feet pounding against the stone flooring, Delilah navigated the halls easily, but she had no direction in mind.

What did all of that mean?

Reaching a winding staircase, Delilah set off, her feet moving before her brain could even register her surroundings. She realized she must've looked mental to other students, but for the time being she really couldn't give a damn. She had every right to be freaking out.

Was she not going to make it home? What about her soul, what the fuck did that mean? Who did she love and why were they going to kill her? Why was she going to let it happen?

Delilah was in no mood to be murdered. Again.

It all had to be nonsense. It had to. However, whoever that girl was, she knew who Delilah was.

Turning back and checking on the Hufflepuff is what she should undoubtedly do. If the girl remembered her vision, Delilah had to wipe her memory. No one could know who she was. Currently, she wasn't thinking rationally so the thought barely occurred to mind.

Rounding off the stairs, Delilah grabbed onto the railing as an aid to spin her around the corner. In doing so, she ran right into Tom's chest and let out a scream of shock.

He easily caught her, one hand gripping her forearm while his other arm wrapped itself around her waist. Her left leg was stuck between his, seeing as she was half way through the action of slipping and falling on her rear end.

They really must stop meeting like this.

As per usual, Delilah was cold to the touch. However his brows furrowed at her state, she was shaking an awful lot and her eyes were wide and fixated. He was half worried she'd start bleeding profusely from her eyes again. "What's wrong?"

His concern irked her. Everything was completely wrong. He shouldn't have that look of fret on his face. Tom shouldn't have caught her so easily, as if it was instinct. He should've let her fall. Wouldn't be the first time.

Analyzing her current condition quickly, Tom came to the conclusion she was frightened. He's seen that glint in her eyes before, when she was crawling away from him.

This time however, her fright wasn't directed at him. It was odd to see her fear not centered on him, but Tom couldn't deny the relief he felt.

The feeling of her ribs rapidly expanding and descending against his own chest snapped him out of his revere. Turning his head this way and that, there was a crevice next to a window, partly hidden behind thick drapery.

Leading her over took a moment longer than necessary, seeing as he was supporting most of her weight. Sitting Delilah down, his dark eyes raked over her for a moment to asses what to do.

"Do you remember that breathing technique I showed you? Back at Avery's manor?"

Her brows furrowed, was she hyperventilating? She hadn't noticed, everything was sort of a blur at the moment. Except him, Tom remained annoyingly in high resolution.

Sighing through his nose, Tom sat himself next to her, turning so their knees bumped and they were facing one another. "Purse your lips," raising a hand, he placed it over her own mouth. His mind quickly took note of how soft her lips felt pressed against the palm of his hand.

Shaking his head, he placed his other hand on her upper stomach, where her diaphragm was located. "Breathe into your stomach and hold."

They did it a few times, her eyes locked onto his. Pulling his hand away, he patted her on the cheek, "good girl."

She didn't have the energy to narrow her eyes, instead one question sprung itself forth. How did he even know how to do that? Had he taken medical training, perhaps?

With the tick of his jaw, Tom pulled his other hand off her and leaned back against the stone frame. He must've read her mind because he sighed then and ran a hand through his hair.

"Everyone has their moments when their fear catches up to them."

Her expression didn't waver as she looked at him, but there was obviously a glimmer of being perplexed behind her shining blue eyes. "What on earth could you be afraid of?"

Rubbing at his cheek, Tom looked at her for a moment as he debated on what he should tell her. Or if he even could. He took in the faded freckles that were scattered across her cheeks and nose. How her golden hair framed her face in a mess of curls. And the ever present aroma of peppermint, petrichor, and a sea in a storm.

When he was a child, he was afraid of many things. All varying in degrees of rationality.

The orphanage felt awake at night. Shadows appeared to be a heavier darkness that loomed over Tom at every corner. When he would walk down those narrow decrepit halls, the old floorboards would creak. The echo from them resounding off the chipped walls in a groan.

He would just sit alone in bed, sometimes till morning. Anxiously awaiting till dawn to reared its head so the orphanage would go to sleep.

However, he couldn't tell her that. He's never told anyone that.

Lastly his eyes traced the slender contours of her neck, watching how they moved when she breathed. "Do you fear death, Delilah?"

"No." She answered easily as she toyed with the hem of her skirt, as if the question was about the condition of the weather.

Delilah grew rigid once she finally recalled everything Harry had told her about Voldemort. About how his initial goal was immortality. After killing Harry, of course.

"Do you?"

He half heartedly shrugged but she knew the answer was yes. A million times yes. What she did next was utterly stupid, but lately her motor functions had been betraying her mind.

Delilah grabbed Tom's hand, it was considerably larger than hers and there was a warm comfort to it. He himself stiffened at the contact, feeling a chill ripple across his skin like water from her ever cold hands.

"Don't," her voice was soft and steady, but none of the tension left his body language.

"I know that sounds utterly ridiculous, but don't fear death. Look at it as the next great adventure." She nearly laughed at the accuracy of that statement. Look at her. She was killed and then thrown into the 1940s.

His coffee brown eyes had grown nearly black as his gaze bored into her. He couldn't understand, how could she not feel the crushing weight of uncertainty in death.

Tom liked knowing everything, or at least having some sense of awareness, or being presented with an opportunity to figure something out. Like Delilah, she was a puzzle. But she was a puzzle he was currently putting together, albeit the process was taking far longer than necessary.

Not breaking eye contact with him, she mustered up a smile. He needed it, Tom looked lost, both with himself and what she was trying to explain.

"I'm not going to sit here and ramble about how it will be all sunshine and everything you could possibly want. It might be, who knows? That's the point. Not a single person knows, not even ghosts, isn't that exciting? Forever is promised to no one, but life is. Just as well as death."

There was a strange sense of reassurance and comfort that crawled into her chest as he finally intertwined his fingers with hers.

"Everything has its time, and yours is here and now. If you spend your entire life running from death, you'll miss out on all the beauty, wonders, and opportunities waiting around the corner. And then it will be too late."

She should really shut up. Would this be considered meddling with the time line? In some way, she supposed she was subliminally telling future Voldemort to not seek out being an immortal. However, she knew he wouldn't listen. He might be hearing her, but he wasn't listening.

Still, Delilah couldn't bring herself to not try at least once. That way she felt her time here wasn't utterly wasted.

"Immortality isn't living forever, it's everyone else dying. And I know that must not mean much to you, I know better than to assume that. I know you. But eventually," she shrugged and ran a thumb over his knuckles absentmindedly. The action causing a strange wave of calmness to run down from the base of his skull to his back.

"Down the line you might meet someone you can't bare to lose."

Tom couldn't look her in the eye any further and flickered his gaze down to their hands. He followed the abstract line made by their entwined fingers, turning this way and that in an odd yet fascinating pattern. "Yes, perhaps I might."

He then stood up, tugging her up with him in the process. Once she found her footing, he dropped her hand and shoved his own in his pockets.

"However, I doubt it."

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Delilah Meddows

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