The cottage was well lived in but clearly taken care of and Delilah immediately fell in love with it. The floors were dark wood with scratches here and there and mix matched carpets ran throughout the home. The lighting was warm and bathed all the paintings in a comforting glow. The eyes on the canvases didn't seem haunting like those at Hogwarts, but welcoming. Curious who these visitors were.

A savory scent filled the air, most likely coming from the kitchen. Mr. Potter gestured for them to sit and she spotted a worn and plush looking leather couch. But as they sat down, panicked gripped her heart. How in the hell were they going to convince this man to give them the cloak?

"Would you care for a drink?"

Tom hardly skipped a beat and smiled pleasantly. "Do you have wine?"

Potter nodded, "well this is a cause for celebration, isn't it? I'll be right back."

When he was out of earshot, Delilah turned to him with a brow raised. "Wine?"

"Don't you think this will all be easier if he's drunk?"

"I mean yes but," she bit her lip and fought back a blush of embarrassment. "Me being drunk definitely won't be helpful."

He shrugged. "You'll be fine. Worst case scenario you end up dancing on the table."

Delilah punched his arm but couldn't be too mad, especially with the way he was smiling at her. Though her expression fell into something more precautionary when he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a phial of clear liquid.

"What's that?"

"Calm down, I'm not poisoning the man." At her look of disbelief he rolled his eyes. "Veritaserum."

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"I always have something handy."

Before she could argue or even ask what else he had, Mr. Potter walked back into the room with three wine glasses and a bottle. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"No problem at all," Tom leaned back in his seat, encompassing it as if it was a throne and captivating Mr. Potter It was eerie how well he was able to command any space he was in, even a little homey cottage they'd only been in for a few minutes.

" I should've introduced myself properly, I'm Fleamont Potter."

"I'm Jacks and this is Charlotte," The lies slipped easily from Tom's mouth and her mind spun at the fake names, not realizing that was a part of the plan. That being said they didn't really have a plan so she decided to let Tom do all the talking.

Fleamont poured the wine and they fell into mundane small talk. She tuned out most of it until she felt Fleamont's eyes on her and he asked about wedding plans.

"Oh," she laughed nervously. "Well, not anything huge. Maybe a wedding in Italy but I'm not sure."

Tom raised a brow at her, looking weirdly interested. "Italy?"

She nodded giddily, playing the part of a love struck soon to be wife. "Along the Amalfi Coast. Oh, it'd be beautiful."

"The Amalfi Coast is gorgeous," Fleamont chimed. "I think a wedding there would be a dream come true."

Delilah took a drink of her wine and mulled spices coated her tongue. She felt warm and cozy almost instantly and she thought an actual wedding there wouldn't be such a bad idea. But the thought of marrying Tom seemed outlandish. Not that she didn't ever want to get married, but she couldn't imagine it was something he'd ever want. Marriage seemed too small a gesture for a man like him. Too human and heartfelt. His version of forever was to be gods amongst men; not her husband.

She tried to ignore the sudden pang of sadness in her chest and took another drink. Delilah had to be rational when it came to loving him, getting her hopes up in a fantasy would only hurt.

Tom reached for his wine and accidentally knocked it over, spilling the red liquid everywhere. "Oh my, I'm so sorry. It's hitting me harder than I imagined. I haven't had the chance to eat today."

Fleamont waved him off. "It's no problem. The wine is quite strong I admit." He waved away the stain with his wand and stood. "I have some stew cooking, let me go see if it's almost ready."

He stood and thankfully left his glass. The second he disappeared around the corner Tom brought back out the phial.

Uncorking the top, he began to pour the clear potion into Fleamont's glass. "Italy?" He asked again, acting as if they weren't currently poisoning the man. Well, perhaps not poison but she wasn't sure how else to put it. Tom's nonchalance about the whole thing was humorous.

Her brows furrowed. "Why are you so caught up on Italy?"

"Would you actually want to go?"

Her heart sank. "Why are you asking?"

Tom slipped the phial back into his pocket just as Fleamont walked back into the room, holding a tray with two bowls on it but Delilah suddenly lost her appetite.

Not wanting to be rude, she took a bowl and muttered a thank you. She felt Tom look at her a few times but she couldn't find the courage to return the favor. She could hardly taste the stew as she swallowed, the meat and vegetables turning into sludge as she ate.

Her eyes flicked up and she watched Fleamont finish his glass of wine.

Tom didn't hesitate.

"I hear you have an invisibility cloak."

Fleamont half laughed half choked as he set down his wine glass. "I beg your pardon?"

Tom's eyes were dark and unblinking as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and he clasped his hands in front of him. "You have an invisibility cloak, yes?"

"Yes." Fleamont's face turned red when the word slipped out without a thought to it. He quickly scrambled to explain. "But a lot of people do, they're easy to come by."

"But you have a special one, don't you?"

"Yes." Fleamont scrambled back, knocking over his chair in the process and he looked frightened.

The grin that stretched Tom's face was akin to a demon who'd just tricked some poor soul into letting him out of Hell.

"What have you done to me?"

Tom tsk-d, looking affronted. "I think you're just drunk, mate." He then stood, towering over the room and Delilah couldn't help but just stare at him. The situation made her feel slightly uncomfortable but she knew they had to get the cloak somehow. Not to mention she had brought up cursing him before.

"Where is it?"

Fleamont made a move to run, but without even a muscle moving Tom had locked every door and window, and shortly after Fleamont's wand flew into Tom's hand.

"You don't need to make this difficult, where is it? We'll give it back to you as soon as we're done."

"Done with what?" Fleamont had shrunken himself into the furthest corner of the room.

Tom sighed, debating with himself but he figured worst case scenario he'd just wipe the man's memory of this whole ordeal. If it were up to him, he'd just kill the man and be done with all this. But he wasn't in the mood to have Delilah yell at him.

"We need it to fight Grindelwald."

Fleamont laughed, looking deranged. "You're lying. What good is an invisibility cloak against a war lord?"

"If it's just some cloak, why do you care so much about us borrowing it?"

Fleamont clenched his jaw. "You can't have it."

Delilah stood up, putting her own moral scruples aside. This was important whether Fleamont understood it or not. "I'm going to level with you, Mr. Potter. You can either give it to us, or Jacks here is going to force it out of you and then knock you out cold. And I'm sure he'd rather you not wake up at all. Now," she took a breath and hoped he'd be sensible. "Where is it?"

Fleamont's eyes flicked to Tom, who did in fact look like a hellhound itching for a taste of blood.

"Bottom drawer of the dresser in my room." The words came out strangled and not a moment later there was a flash of white-green light blinded the room as Tom cast obliviate and Fleamont fell to the ground unconscious.

"Why do they always make it so difficult for themselves?"

She rolled her eyes and made her way to where she assumed his room was. "You could try being less frightening."

"And here I was thinking that's what you loved about me."

"Ha ha," she laughed dryly and opened the door to Fleamont's room. It was neat and didn't have much. A bed was pushed into the corner and he had a large bookshelf on one side of the room and a dresser on the other side.

She beelined for the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He had it hidden under some sweaters and she smiled at the familiar cloak. She'd only seen it a handful of times when Harry, Hermione and Ron would use it but it was unmistakable.

When she turned, she jumped at the sight of Tom leaning in the doorway.

"We could go, you know."

"Go where?"

"To Italy, next summer perhaps."

Her stomach rolled uneasily. "Why?"

His eyes flashed and she felt like melting through the floor.

"I think you know why."

"Don't be mean." She shook her and walked past him. She needed to get out of too warm house. Delilah barely paid any mind to Fleamont who was still unconscious on the floor as she left out the door, which Tom had thankfully unlocked.

She heard his steps following after her.

"How am I being mean?"

Delilah stopped and closed her eyes, clutching the cloak to her chest and she wished to disappear underneath it. Forcing herself to turn around, she wasn't prepared for the way he was looking at her.

She had to be reading into things, she had to. There was no way he was actually suggesting getting married. At the thought, she became bitterly aware of his ring still being on her finger.

Delilah took it off and held it out to him but he shook his head. "Keep it."

"Please take it."

"Lilah, keep the fucking ring."

"But–"

He stepped forward before she could even think and his hands were holding her face, his skin warm and rough. His eyes were dark and that lovely color of coffee that she always drank up and she felt like she could feel the world spinning.

"I'm not being mean, I'm being honest. Keep the ring."

"But," her mind scrambled and her heart felt like it was rotting. She couldn't fathom him being in love enough to ask her such a thing. "You can't mean that."

His brows furrowed. "Why not?"

"Because you're you!" She laughed, feeling hysterical. "You don't... you can't."

"I do."

"Why?" She cried. This felt like it was coming out of nowhere. Like he was playing some cruel trick.

Tom's eyes narrowed. "Why do you think, Delilah?" At her starstruck, shocked expression Tom sighed and kissed her forehead. "Just keep the damn ring."

With that he walked away, leaving Delilah frozen in place as she stared at the now empty space in front of her.

Perhaps she was being cruel or heartless for not believing him, but how could she? One doesn't expect a sunset to admire you back.

Tom didn't go around falling in love.