Tom stood behind them, a clearly forced pleasant smile on his lips. The expression taught on his handsome features. His eyes gleamed something dangerous as he looked at Blaise, sharp like a blade and it stung. Making the man lean back.

  She spared him a glance before turning back to Blaise. Not being phased in the slightest by Tom's intimidating demeanor, "really?"

  Blaise shrugged and stepped away, "I've always had a thing for blondes."

  Tom's jaw tightened.

  "Does that include Draco?" She teased.

  "Again, shut up."

  Delilah smiled at him knowingly as he finally walked away and Tom stepped around her.

  "What was that about?"

  "Nothing, he just finally plucked up the courage to do something." Her hands found familiar purchase around the nape of his neck as they began to dance aimlessly. Merely swaying with the beat of Christmas music from a more modern era that Tom wasn't sure he liked.

  He found he didn't like a lot of factors about the nineties. Even though the world itself wasn't at war, it somehow felt duller to him than his time. There was a lack of elegance, he felt like his steps were now misplaced. All those years he had worked on himself to become better than those around him suddenly felt fruitless and he was now three steps behind again. His world upended.

  Tom wondered if that's how Delilah felt when she arrived in the forties.

  He shook his head, people just didn't care and he couldn't get himself to agree with that.

  "I don't like it here," he admitted. Looking over Delilah's head easily and noticing how some people tried to be inconspicuous with their lingering glances. Their eyes flashing like lighthouses, flickering in and out of sight but always rounding back onto them again.

  Good. Let them watch.

  He had accepted their hatred even before arriving in this time. That didn't necessarily mean he wanted to put up with it. There was always a good balance back at Hogwarts, yes people loathed him, but adoration tipped the scale into something manageable and malleable for him to play with. A God peering down at Man, knowing he can influence their actions despite not all being happy about it.

  "Well we're going back soon enough, so if you could try harder to hide your pouting."

  His narrowed eyes looked down at her, "I am not pouting."

  She cut him a half bemused smile before resting her head against his chest. His heartbeat spiked for a moment before calming again, the sound a lullaby. "Harry is still trying to convince the higher Order members to let him come with us."

  "That would be pointless, surely he knows they'd never let him leave. Especially since the war is on the fringes." Tom spotted the green eyed boy across the room, looking some semblance of happy for once as Ginny wiped whipped cream from a pastry off of his nose before kissing him. The boy smiling like a fool.

  "That's what everyone keeps telling him, he needs to stay and fight." Her sentence ended with a hiccup and a grin nearly made itself present on his lips.

  "Wouldn't want a repeat of last time, now would we? You might even get bold and start dancing on the table proclaiming your absolute adoration for me."

  She smacked his arm, "I might have been shit-faced that time but I know for a fact such nonsense did not leave my mouth."

  An uncharacteristic and rather devious smile grew on his face, "are you so sure about that?"

  "I..." after a moment, clearly basking in her sudden self doubt, a dry laugh left him.

  "You're infuriating."

  "You wouldn't have me any other way."

  She shut her mouth, not seeing an argument she could summon from air. However, saying nothing only fed his ego the crumbs she was trying to sweep up. "I need another drink."

  "By all means," he gestured to the makeshift bar they had arranged. Muggle and Wizard alcohol alike.

  Delilah pointed a finger at him, "don't look so amused, you're not getting a spectacle from me tonight."

  His eyes were heavy underneath dark lashes, his lips tugged up sinfully. "Oh, I'm sure."

  She woke up with a splitting headache and groaned, burying her head in the pillow and her mouth was so dry it felt like her tongue would split the flesh off the roof of her mouth.

  Delilah laid still for another moment before her spine went rigid. Fuck. Her head shot up, eyes heavy with sleep and she blinked many times to try and read the clock, Tom's sleeping form evenly rising and falling next to her.

  Six in the morning.

  Her shoulders slumped in relief, her mind lagging as she tried to chase down her memories of the night but failing to catch most. Giving up with a light sigh, she carefully untangled herself from the sheets, slowly lifting her leg off Tom. Trying her best not to wake him.

  She froze when he stirred for a moment, but went still again. The liquor still in his system surely to thank.

  Padding quietly across the floor, the flickers of sunrise clawed at the ground hungerly, desperately trying to get around the heavy drawn curtains. Another day closer to a hopeful victory.

  Opening the top drawer of the dresser, she pulled the small jewelry box out from under a few shirts. Smiling as she took hold of it. Closing it, she faltered as she turned around, Tom was looking at her. Sleep heavy on his eyes.

  "You're up early," his voice was a rasp, deep from chest and her skin flushed hot at the sound of it.

  Delilah smiled lightly, "I didn't mean to wake you—"

  He waved her off, "what's that?"

  She bit her lip and he raised a brow.

  "Delilah, if that's a gift—"

  "Oh, shut up. It's Christmas." She beamed and made her way back to bed. As she did so he moved towards the foot of it and sat on the edge. Watching her draw nearer and stand between his legs.

  He took in her giddy expression, adding a light to her in the otherwise dark room. He waved a hand, a candle lighting itself on the desk.

  She was glowing as she handed him the box, "Happy Christmas." Leaning down, she placed a chaste kiss to his forehead.

  However as she pulled back, Tom tugged on her necklace, pulling her lips to meet his. Slight remnants of scotch still on his tongue and it made her dizzy as her eyes shut with the motion.

  A light gasp left her as he then tugged her into his lap, sat on one knee as the box rested on the other.

  His dark eyes flicked between hers, "I don't have your gift." She deflated a bit but hid it, though he noticed the slight drop of her shoulders in an instant. "Yet," he added. "House arrest is tedious when it comes to shopping."

  "I don't mind, just open it."

  She seemed gleeful and now he was beyond curious. Sparing her one last glance, he opened the box.

  Tom couldn't help the laugh that broke from his lips.

  Picking it up, a long necklace dangled from his fingers, the contents that made it a jumbled mess of different sized beads and other objects, with a small little radish hanging from the end with a D inscribed on it.

  It was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen, yet he felt a strange sense of... content? Gratitude? He wasn't sure.

  Delilah was smiling but was trying to read his reaction carefully. "Luna helped make it, it's charmed to keep away the Nargles."

  His eyes narrowed on the necklace, picking up delicate traces of magic laced around it. His brow raised in genuine curiosity despite the crude wording that slipped out of his mouth.

  "What the fuck is a Nargle?"

  Her lips closed into a more small, cautious smile. "If you don't like it it's alright, I realize it's probably not your—"

  Her words were swallowed by his mouth. Tom pulled her in by the neck and kissed her, smiling against her lips.

  He didn't know why he was in such a good mood. Perhaps it was because a war and the world weren't knocking on his door for once. Maybe it was the fact it was his first Christmas where nothing was expected of him. Or maybe it was the girl in his arms.

  Setting the gift carefully next to him, he dragged back onto the bed, mouth never leaving hers as his hand trailed up into her hair. Holding her so close he felt her pulse thrum like a dragon's wings beneath her skin.

  Delilah was more intoxicating than any liquor he's ever consumed. The mere taste of her threatening to send his mind into a frenzy. A frightening yet thrilling thought.

  She was more dangerous than anything the war could offer.

  His fingers had just latched onto the hem of her underwear when there was a knock on their door.

  They fell silent for a moment, breaking from a heated kiss as heavy eyes of lust stared back at each other. A groan of annoyance rumbling at the base of his throat as they knocked again.

  Delilah laughed lightly, the sound being warped into a small gasp as he squeezed her hips. His fingers pressed into her skin with such desperate force that chills ruptured all over her body.

  Smirking at her knowingly, he got off the bed and went to the door. As he opened it, the person on the other side had their fist frozen in the air. Having been about to knock again.

  His eyes flickered as he looked down at them, "yes, Miss Granger?"

  Hermione's own eyes widened a bit and her cheeks flushed as she saw Delilah sitting on the bed and smiling at her tiredly. Her gaze went between the two and she flushed, "sorry I know it's early."

  She bit her lip, her embarrassment melting away as her features became clouded by barely tempered glee. Her fingers clutching at a small morsel she handed him.

  Tom raised a brow, taking the package from her grasp and his eyes became heavy for a moment. His voice a low whisper, "are you always this obvious with your emotions?"

  Hermione straightened her back, raising her chin and barely being able to reel in her joyous demeanor. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." She then looked at Delilah, beaming with a huge grin. "Happy Christmas!"

  When she left, Tom clicked the door shut and turned. Meeting Delilah's questioning eyes.

  "It's for you."

  She perked up but he shook his head. "It's for later."

  "But—"

  "Patience, darling."

  She huffed, not letting the name of endearment get the better of her. "How are you not going to let me open a gift on Christmas?"

  He shook his head at her, walking over and placing the small package in his jacket pocket that hung off the chair.

  "Because I can, now get dressed. There's meetings to attend."

  "You're calling Christmas breakfast a meeting?"

  "It sure as hell feels like one."

  He'd been right.

  Besides polite exchanges and the passing of gifts when the meal first started, conversation quickly turned towards planning. More specifically, their plan to leave.

  Harrison wasn't happy in the slightest. "I'm not fond of the idea. Letting you saunter off to the past, especially with my sister."

  "I don't need you to be fond of the idea, nor do I need your approval." Delilah bit, still furious with him for what he had been doing to Tom.

  Sensing an argument was about to unfold, Hermione cleared her throat. "The safest place for you to use a time-turner would be Hogwarts. Though given walking on grounds would be a suicide mission, it's best you do it in the out reaches of the Forbidden Forest."

  Tom nodded in agreement, his chest tightening at the notion they were finally going back. That the Hogwarts in the past was still in one piece. Untarnished by bloodshed and ruin that he was responsible for.

  "The best time to go would be New Years," he began. His eyes aglow as he laid the groundwork of their mission out in his head. "The men patrolling the castle are low ranking and are bound to be celebrating, to an extent at least. They'll be more distracted and most likely won't be paying much attention, if it all, to the forest."

  Harry hummed, sleep clinging to the skin beneath his eyes. Though the holiday did allow him let go for a few moments, the war still had its talons sunk into his back. Every nerve pulsing with the want to fight. To win. To end this bloody mess.

  He just wanted to rest.

  But, despite all his desperate pleas to the empty sky, he knew that wasn't option.

  "I still think we should go with you."

  Delilah's lips pressed into a small, tired smile. Offering some pathetic semblance of an apology. Or maybe pity. Knowing he's heard the words she was about to say a hundred times.

  "You've got to stay here. This war is yours, let us handle the one in the past."

  "She's right, Harry." Hermione offered softly. Watching the turmoil of guilt and fury brim in his eyes. "Let them deal with Grindelwald."

  "You-Know-Who will suffer from your wrath soon enough," Tom said. The table turned to look at him, Harry's eyes latching onto the black hole that was Tom's stare. The man seemed to suck in and eradicate any light that even dared to get too close. "Give him hell, why don't you?"

  Something passed over Harry's face, making Delilah lean back in her seat a bit.

  It was dark, and vicious in nature. The intent to kill with the fury of the heavens in the eyes.

  A mirror image of Tom.

  Harry nodded once, a sense of understanding passing between the two for the first time. The air was heavy with foreboding events soon to unfold.

  Armageddon was about to begin.