Delilah had woken up to yelling, Harry and Ron's voices carrying through the floor boards as Hermione told them what had happened.

She groaned, burying her head in her pillow and Tom also made a grunt of annoyance, pulling her body close to his.

"Should we?—"

"Leave it," his voice was rough with sleep, exhaustion tugging at his limbs since he had finally been able to rest in a bed.

However, not a moment later the door burst open now with a broken lock and a fuming Harry stumbling into the room followed by Ron and Hermione.

"Delilah I'm--" Hermione started but Harry cut her off as he stormed forward.

Rage in his eyes doubled at the sight of them in a bed together as he then grabbed hold of Delilah, dragging her out of the sheets with a vice like grip on her arm.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He shouted, his jaw clenched and she winced at the pain shooting through her arm.

"You left without telling us, taking him with you and then you somehow fuck up so bad that You-Know-Who knows you're alive?"

"Harry-"

"He could find out about Tom at any moment now thanks to you."

"It was my idea!" Hermione cut in, trying to march her way forward but Ron held onto her elbow.

"I don't give a damn whose idea it was, you never should have left." He bit, yanking her closer again. Neither realized Tom was behind him in a moment.

Arm wrapping around Harry's neck while his other hand held the top of his head, looking wholly prepared to snap his neck.

"Hands off," Tom's voice was low.

  Watching how Delilah's brows furrowed in pain and her arm was turning red.

Ron went to surge forward, but with the flick of his head the ginger was thrown back into the wall.

"Harry no one recognized Tom," Delilah tried as calmly as she could. Sending Tom a warning glance, not seeing how him holding Harry in a headlock would help their situation.

The green eyed boy didn't seem to care, letting go of Delilah and twisting in Tom's hold. The moment he was free his wand was out and pointed at his chest.

"Harry stop it!" Hermione tried again.

Barely anyone had time to blink before Tom muttered something, a faded red light glowed for a moment before Harry's wand was ripped from his hold and flew into Tom's hand.

"Enough." His voice was sharp as he glared at Harry, his eyes as dark as spilled ink. "If you could get your emotions under uncontrol it'd be greatly appreciated, now—" he twirled Harry's wand around his fingers.

"Unless he decides to raffle throughout that woman's mind, we should be fine. I recognize that's putting faith in very little, but it's all we've got to hang onto at the moment."

"Bellatrix didn't recognize you?" Ron asked Tom as Hermione yanked her elbow out of his hold.

Tom turned to look at him with a brow raised, "how would she? According to the books, hardly anyone knows of my past identity, let alone my name."

"Well actually," Hermione said in a quick breath, having to reel herself in as his eyes connected with hers. "Dumbledore sort of told the entire school what your name was in sixth year."

"Lovely," he muttered. However, that still didn't mean people knew what he looked like. And there were loads of people named Tom... it was a pathetic thing to hope for but he couldn't afford to over think it at the moment.

"Nevermind him, we know she recognized Delilah."

Ah yes, that obstacle.

"As long as he has no means of tracking her, the most we have to deal with is his anger. Which I realize can be monumental given how his emotions tend to drive his decisions. Which also means he'll most likely get more irrational." Tom looked at them all, battle worn with grief written into their features.

The more he thought about it, everyone in the house had a gaunt expression carved into them. Pale and stricken as if ash of their fallen clung to them like stubborn dust.

It was partially familiar to him, he recognized the weight in their eyes from the soldiers he saw return from war back in the forties.

"We just need to be more careful. He'll make mistakes."

  "Mistakes can costs lives, that of which we're desperately low on." Harry clenched his jaw as he stared Tom down. "You don't get it, do you? More people will die because you got bored."

  Tom didn't appreciate the fact that he was right. He also wasn't sure how he felt about that. There was a hollowness to the notion of other people dying. The only person he genuinely wanted to be kept alive was Delilah.

  Everyone else was collateral.

November went by in a blur and December seemed hellbent on flying by.

Tensions high between many in the Order now that Voldemort knew about Delilah. Though Tom was now allowed more free reign within the house, the two were barely permitted to even go near a window.

Harry didn't want them to be tempted into leaving for a rendezvous.

"How do we know You-Know-Who doesn't know about his past self, if Tom is him?" Ron asked one night, mouth full of stew and Tom gave him the mere flicker of a disgusted expression.

"I'm not him, I've already explained this. We're in a different timeline now, his past is still his. I'm on a new course, so he has no knowledge of what's happening as we speak. All he knows is that Delilah's still alive, and he's probably raging over the fact."

He looked to her then, still attempting to come to terms with the fact she cared about him even though Voldemort had murdered her.

Or tried to, at least.

This knowledge only appeared to set Harry at somewhat ease, though he had been more high strung recently to his scar constantly hurting. Which only made him more irritable as they discussed Tom and Delilah's plans to return to the forties after New Years.

Which Tom found utterly fascinating. How could Voldemort's emotions affect Harry? There had to be more to it than simply the killing curse rebounding. He wondered if-

The sound of something shattering made them all turn around and Neville looked up at them with a wince. "Sorry, I dropped an ornament."

Turning back around, Tom picked up his cup and blew the steam away from his tea before taking a sip.

"It's awfully late for a tree to be going up. Christmas is tomorrow isn't it?" He remarked and she shrugged a shoulder as she flipped through a book. He glimpsed the title for a moment, titled Fellowship of the something. Delilah seemed rather enraptured with it.

That was all she had been doing really since they were confined to the safe house for two months. Reading, eating, planning, sleeping - among other things in the bedroom.

"People want some normalcy," she said after biting into her muffin. "I do hope you got me something."

Tom raised a brow at her.

"Let's see, you didn't get me anything for Christmas last year-"

"I despised you at that point."

She glared at him, "and I hated you. Besides the point, and you didn't get me anything for my birthday." Her birthday had rolled around and she was now nineteen, or at least she thought.

With the timeline being messed up she wasn't sure if she was younger or older than she was supposed to be.

"I recall giving you an entire night as a celebration," he remarked as he took another drink, basking in the way her cheeks burned red at the mention of their activities.

Clearing her throat she turned her eyes back to the page she had been trying to read. "Anyway, Hermione said there would be a small party tonight."

"Of course there is, there's always time for useless recreational activities during a war."

"It helps people forget."

"Not for long."

"Well I'm sure people would rather have flickers of happy moments than none at all."

Tom hummed, wanting a cigarette but he'd left them up in their room.

It wasn't like he didn't want to get her a gift. In fact, she was the first person he actually felt a sort of longing to do so. However there was the problem of him not being allowed to leave the cramped house they were in.

Neville dropped another ornament, and with a sigh Delilah got up and went to go help him.

He watched her for a moment, how her naturally shaking hands tried to hold onto the fragile pieces so gently as she hung them up on a branch.

Tom's eyes then caught on a mess of curky hair and he sat up straighter.

"Miss Granger," he started and she looked up at him with that constant look of surprise in her eyes. "I was wondering if you could assist me with something."

Later that night he was practically dragged out of his room to the kitchen where all the loud noise had been ensuing from.

There was a turkey sat in the middle of the large table with steam swirling up from its glowing surface and other little dishes ranging from roasted potatoes to yorkshire pudding were scattered around it.

It smelt delightful but he raised a brow as a small train weaved its way through the air, just barely spilling the gravy it held. The Order was chattering and laughing, eating with smiles on their faces as they tried to ignore the war pounding on the door.

His eyes found Delilah and a bit of amused tried to tease its way to his features as he watched her take a rather comical bite out of one of the turkey's legs.

Before he could make his way over, he watched her get whisked off to the far end of the room where space was made for dancing near the tree. He'd only just noticed the music blaring out of a phonograph.

Sitting down, he stared at the food for a moment but couldn't bring himself to have much of an appetite. The fact that Blaise was spinning her around wasn't helping much either but he pushed the nudge of jealousy away.

There were more important things to dwell on, why succumb to such adolescent problems?

Although as Tom continued to watch her it became more apparent she was drunk. Not nearly as much as she had been that one night in the head students common room.

Sighing at the memory, he thought back to what little she had been wearing. How her legs had dangled off the side of the couch and how her head was in his lap. He'd repressed it then, but he had wanted to fuck her for longer than he'd realized.

"It's rude not to eat," Hermione said from somewhere beside him. When had she sat down?

"I'm afraid I don't have the stomach for anything tonight."

She gestured to her untouched plate, "you and I both it seems... have you given it to her yet?"

Tom looked back at Delilah, at her glowing eyes and he couldn't help but think she was beautiful.

"Not yet."

Meanwhile Delilah was trying to keep the room from spinning even after Blaise stopped twirling her.

"I have some news you might find riveting," he remarked as she tried not to laugh at her.

"Well do share with the class." She was happy they were able to do this, dance and talk even if it was about nothing. She had felt severed off from him by the end of their last conversation and was glad to have some semblance of normalcy back.

"Luna and I kissed."

She blinked at him for a moment before a fit of exciting giggling broke from her lips. "That's marvelous! Oh where is she? When was this? Why didn't she tell me, oh that blasted girl-"

Blaise snickered and turned her back towards him, seeing as it appeared she was about to march off at any moment. "Calm down, it happened earlier."

"Took you long enough, haven't you had a thing for her since fifth year?"

He glared at her half heartedly, "shut up."

"Mind if I cut in?"