Chapter 31
January 22nd, 1944
Hope
“They could not care less what house you’re in,” Mary proclaims, waving away any concerns. “Taylor and Amanda care who you are, not what colors you wear.”
Eithne sighs between us, tugging on both our interlocked arms, until she’s completely sandwiched by both our warmth. She shivers before relenting, “I understand, and I apologize for my worries. The last thing I want is to cause problems for you two, you’ve been so kind to me.”
“You deserve nothing less, you’re very good company,” I tell her firmly, nudging her playfully with my shoulder, disrupting the lovely sound of our walk through the snowy path. “Especially when you’re beating Anthony’s ass at wizard’s chess. Who knew you could trash talk better than half of Gryffindor.”
Sayre and Weasley laugh at the memory of Anthony red faced and uncharacteristically quiet throughout one of his favorite games. All his little dudes were nothing but rubble when she was done with him, and I swear he almost flipped the board in his anger.
However, he left the room to collect more snacks while Mary and I laughed at his sour attitude while dancing to my music playing overhead. It was a fun Sunday, even if I ended up completely danced out for the time being. Thankfully, moving and grooving all weekend was one hell of a work out. My legs haven’t burned like that in a while, but it was a good feeling.
“I can assure you that they will be more concerned about the Slytherin boys at the table, Eithne. The most you have to worry about is some cheeky banter. We may tease each other, however no one wants to hurt anyone,” Mary explains with a reassuring grin.
“Actually, we may want to hurry,” I admit shyly. “I made sure that the three of us would be the last to arrive, and I’m not sure how well Anthony is doing as the lynch pin.”
Eithne’s eyes widen in alarm and Mary lets out a hearty laugh as we pick up the pace. I had asked Tom to find a good table at the Three Broomsticks around 11:30 am, followed by telling Anthony to meet them there by 11:40 am, and told those next to me that we should arrive around 11:45 am— which is right about now. Hurrying along, we manage to enter the restaurant before the little hand can twitch to a new number. The whole place is busy, and it doesn’t take long to find the table filled with awkward teenagers.
Weaving through the crowd, I catch sight of Anthony leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, grinning like a cat that just knocked over a glass. Across sits Abraxas, who is managing a very neutral expression, while Tom swirls the last of his butterbeer in mild amusement. Taylor and Amanda, bless them, are doing their best to keep the conversation flowing, but it’s obvious that Anthony has left them to manage most of the heavy lifting.
“There you are!” Amanda exclaims in an elated voice, looking relieved to see us.
“Apologies,” Mary says with a smirk as the three of us sit in the vacant seats. With Eithne between us, I turn away from the two to press a quick kiss to Tom’s cheek as Mary continues, “Has anyone ordered food, or do I need to add that when I get drinks?”
“No, however a round of fish and chips sounds delightful,” Anthony lilts, grunting when Taylor elbows him in the ribs.
“You pest!” She shouts while chuckling, wearing disbelief clear on her face. “Sweet, you have been nothing but a hindrance this entire time. Now you believe you can decide what we eat?”
Glaring at the guilty party, I ask, “How exactly was he being a hindrance?”
Anthony rolls his eyes, still smiling like a fiend, “Mr. Malfoy made what some might call a disparaging comment about Gryffindor, so I was forced to remind him about a certain event.”
“I was trying to compliment them,” Abraxas grumbles sullenly, and I turn and watch Tom snicker.
“Which we appreciated,” Amanda says reassuringly.
Mary snorts indelicately before asking, “So, what did you do in retaliation?”
“Simply reminded dear Abraxas of the day he showed up to dinner sporting his rival’s colors,” Anthony admits with a shit eating grin.
“What?!” I shout at the same time as Eithne. Turning to look at her, I find the same wide eyed, intense stare on her face.
“That was four years ago,” Malfoy sighs, letting his head fall into his hands.
“Yet, it feels like yesterday,” Tom adds in, laughing at the glare his friend sends his way.
Eithne clears her throat, making a strong attempt at calming herself, “How did that come about?”
Abraxas sighs dramatically, “That was my first year on the Quidditch team, and I may have been overconfident before the Gryffindor match.”
“More like he threatened to score so many times that people might think Slytherin caught the snitch,” Taylor playfully interjects.
“Regardless,” he continues, a blush coloring his cheeks and neck. “Weasley challenged me to a wager over who would win, Slytherin lost, and then I was forced to suffer through the ridicule of more than half the school for an evening.”
My gaze flies to Tom, who silently nods his confirmation, and then I’m laughing and smacking the table in my joy. Everyone joins in, some lucky enough to remember what must have been a hilarious meal. To see a Malfoy in Gryffindor colors would be the ultimate prize after living in this world, I wish I could have seen it.
Maybe one day someone will show me their memory of that day, but not now, though. I’m too busy wiping the tears from my eyes to focus on a mind reading spell. Still chuckling, Mary gets up to go order us some drinks and some food, meanwhile I’m struggling to catch my breath.
“So, Eithne,” Amanda starts once things have died down. “I hear that you are a master chess player.”
An audible gulp escapes her before my new friend answers, “That may be a little strong, but yes I play.”
“There’s no need to be humble, Anthony has been lording over us with his skills for years,” Taylor tells her while fondly playing with her boyfriend’s hair. “He hasn’t shut up about you demolishing him.”
“Taylor!” Anthony whines, resulting in another round of laughter.
“He is very good, however my Father is a master at wizarding chess. One of the few British wizards who has been invited back to play at Beauxbatons when he attended Hogwarts, and has won nearly every tournament he’s entered. We began playing the moment I could conceptualize the rules,” Eithne explains with a small smile.
“That’s amazing!” Amanda exclaims, meanwhile most of the table quiets in respectful awe. “No wonder, you’re a prodigy. If you do not mind, I would love to watch a match.”
“As would I,” Tom interjects, a conniving glint in his eye as he sits up straighter.
My expression turns suspicious for a moment, and then Eithne looks to me. Quickly, I smile widely at her, nodding in encouragement. Her comfort is currently more important than whatever Tom is scheming. Having opened up to Mary and I some more about her time in Hogwarts, I understand why she’s been so nervous with each new interaction we’ve put her through. If I thought Walburga and her friends were mean to me, then Slytherin girls might as well Freddy freakin Krueger when bullying in house.
Paying boys to pretend to like her, ruining her belongings, destroying completed homework, and then there was the physical bullying. How she’s managed to come away without any major scars is a testament to her self-taught healing abilities and the work of Madame Smethwyck. No matter his planning, Tom is going to have to make a very compelling argument to get to my new friend. Already, I can’t help but be protective of her. The strong and brilliant witch who deserves far more from her Hogwarts experience.
“Perhaps Anthony would like to try again,” Amanda adds, nudging Eithne’s hand on the table with a playful smile.
Abraxas chimes in, “I know I would appreciate a match. There are far too few decent players in this school, some true competition would be nice.”
“How about a fun, little tournament?” Taylor suggests to the group, staring at the female Slytherin with a kind expression. “Winner can decide what we do next time we all hang out.”
The surprise that overtakes Eithne is quickly replaced by happiness, and the boys agree to those terms happily. Then Mary arrives with various floating foods and drinks, “Did I hear something about a tournament?”
“A chess tournament,” the blonde next to me cheerily announces while a round of butterbeers are passed out with enough fish and chips for us all to share. “When I win, I want to teach you all how to sword fight.”
“Fencing or broad sword?” I ask, a cocky grin already on my face. “Learning to use weapons like that is a tradition in my family.”
An excited gasp escapes her, “Either? Both?”
While nodding, I chuckle at her reaction, and I feel Tom squeeze my thigh as Eithne starts taking stock of everyone else’s abilities. There’s heat in his eyes as he looks me up and down, and I suppose he doesn’t know that my Dad’s side is entirely vikings and old world pagans quite yet. A casual shrug and a sly smirk are my response for the moment, opting to start eating instead of explaining further.
“I’ve always wanted to learn to use a sword!” Mary cheers, resting an arm against the back of Eithne’s chair.
“Miss Sayre, I think you are a wonderful addition to this group we’ve found ourselves in,” Tom says sincerely, however he never looks away from me.
*****
“Today was marvelous,” Eithne sighs contentedly in front of me.
“More days like this are on the horizon,” Mary tells her, bumping Sayre playfully with her hip. “Hope and I told you there was nothing to fret over.”
“I hope we were not the cause of your worries?” Abraxas asks, almost masking his guilt into a calm a casual demeanor.
Eithne starts walking backwards next to Mary, ensuring to lift her feet enough that she doesn’t trip over any snow, “No, you and Tom have been more than lovely.”
“Meeting Gryffindors so close to your Quidditch match was the cause,” I explain, snuggling further into Tom. His arm is draped across my shoulders, and the cold adds a touch of freshness to his scent as it surrounds me.
“I just don’t want to cause problems for either of you,” Eithne admits softly. “Trouble tends to follow me, and Hope is already treated poorly by many in the school. A friendship with me won’t help your reputation.”
Mary snatches Eithne’s hand and spins her around until she’s facing forward again. “You have nothing to worry about. The only actions you can control are your own, and anyone who takes issue with you will have to get through us.”
“Apologies, Eithne, but you’re stuck with us,” I say with a proud grin. “So long as you don’t regret dancing with me, at least.”
Twinkling laughter escapes her, “As if that could happen.”
Mary tilts her head skyward, “Look at the moon. Isn’t it stunning?”
Following her gaze, I find a waning crescent shining distinctly in a sea of stars. Despite only being a sliver, the surrounding snowy trail is clearly lit in silver light. The castle is still a distance away, offering a beautiful view. A sigh slips from my lips, and Tom pulls me even closer as our collective steps come to a slow halt. On an inhale, I catch a sweet, floral scent that doesn’t match the scene.
“Oh, how beautiful!” Eithne exclaims, darting toward a patch of pale blossoms just off the path. “How are flowers in bloom at this time?”
Curiosity tugs at me, and after a quick peck to Tom’s cheek, I carefully follow her foot prints in the snow. Such an odd place for flowers to grow, the white petals almost blending in with the sparkling snow, maybe fifteen yards from the route back to Hogwarts.
While she kneels in the snow, I stand about a foot away. Once I notice the species, I warn, “Be careful, these are moon flowers. They shouldn’t be blooming now— they grow in the summer.”
That’s when the plants explode; a blinding flash of heat and the force sends me flying backward. Midair, I grasp Eithne and twist to shield her from the impact. Pain sears through me as we hit the ground, but I push it aside, scrambling to my feet while ensuring my friend stays on the ground.
The acrid scent of scorched skin burns my nose, and based on my pain levels, some of it comes from me. The voices of my friends screaming for us are easily filtered out of my senses while I search for the danger. Tom can protect Mary and Abraxas if the worst happens, but I’m going to destroy whoever is dumb enough to attack me and my friends.
Three hooded figures emerge from the shadows, their wands raised. I shift to block Eithne from their approaching forms. Her cries are quiet and unsurprising given the overwhelming smell of burnt flesh, but I’ll worry about healing her once I’m done with these guys.
“I would suggest putting your wands away, or the blonde dies,” a masculine voice drawls from among the new comers. They are significantly closer to me than my friends still on the path, a mistake they’ll identify soon enough.
“Good luck with that,” I call out, bringing their attention back to me instead of the murderous Riddle frozen with a hand in his pocket. “You’ll have to go through me to hurt anyone here.”
That makes the central hooded figure chuckle loudly, lilting in a transatlantic accent, “Oh Deary, you’re who we came here for.”
Straightening slightly, I smile wickedly at our new comers, “Perfect.”
A quick wave of my hand puts a shield up just in time to block the incoming curses, crimson and green sparks slicing through the night. With some concentration and a muttered word or two, my shield spreads out, protecting my friends as they race to my side.
Wands now drawn, magic crackling in the air as my efforts are reinforced by Tom’s protection. Still, spells fly at us and I feel every prick against my magic as if small needles are poking my awareness. The three figures might be skilled adults, but their power is nothing when compared to my might mixed with my steadily rising anger.
“Hope, let me help,” Tom urges vehemently, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.
I spare a quick glance his way, nervous to take my eyes off my opponents, “You’re the only person I trust to protect the others. Please, keep them safe so I can concentrate on these guys.”
“I can protect the girls,” Abraxas argues, moving next to Tom.
“No,” I ground out, glaring at Malfoy with enough rage that my eyes change color briefly. “I won’t be able to concentrate unless I know they’re safe. Promise me.”
“I—I understand,” Abraxas gasps out, fear entering his expression as my eyes change back to their normal color.
Tom is who I’m waiting for, though. He doesn’t seem happy, and I can sympathize with how he must feel, but not right now. As of this moment, I need the second strongest amongst us to protect those not battle ready.
“Tom!” I shout, desperation bleeding into my voice. Finally, he nods with a solemn set of features, and I breath out a sigh of relief.
With one last glance at the people who have become so important to me, I bolt towards the danger. Despite the snow, I’m fast enough to dodge or cartwheel away from the incoming curses, and call on my magic to manipulate the snow all around us. First, lifting enough powder into the air that my attackers can no longer see me. Their onslaught pauses and I hear at least one of them cursing into the otherwise quiet night.
That makes me smile, and I rely on my nose and ears to spot those dumb enough to come for me. Various spells still get fired off in random directions, only helping me locate my prey. My immobilization spell lands on one of them, and I hear the thud of a body hitting the ground hard. The two still standing shout in panic, and I can’t help but laugh. I can only hope that my disembodied chuckling sounds eerie to them, and I silence my shoes before running at another.
They’re facing away from me, making my kick to the side of their leg a surprise. A male grunt escapes my victim as he falls to his knees, and I pull back his hood before grabbing his hair in a firm grip. When I pull his face back enough for me to see, I don’t recognize him. But, he also sees me, and starts to say something.
Except I don’t care, so before more than three words leave him, I smash his face into the ground— with enough force to knock him out. My nose catches an amount of his blood, but not enough that I have to worry about him expiring.
“You’re alone now,” I sing into the snow-blurred area. “Why not make this easy and tell me who sent you?”
Bright red sparks come flying my way, and I bat it away like a pesky fly. The ground explodes where the magic lands, but I don’t spare even a glance. Instead, I try again, “Last chance. I’m going to find out one way or another, I suggest you choose the painless route.”
A Killing Curse crackles past my shoulder, making me snarl and allowing me to track the spell’s origin. Redirecting it takes half a thought, and I crack my neck before announcing, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Placing a shield in front of myself just in case, I go back to controlling the snow. Gathering it above my head, I can see the last cloaked figure in a matter of seconds, along with his latest attacks. Which bounce off my invisible shield, allowing me enough time to send the snow straight for my opponent.
Aiming for the hood, I direct my frozen weapon into his mouth and nose. The curses stop flying my way as I funnel more and more snow into his airway, feeling it coalescing in his lungs, melting thanks to his body heat, and replacing any air with water. With wand in hand, the cloaked figure grips at his neck, his hood falling to reveal yet another person I do not recognize.
Once he falls to the ground, his skin starting to turn blue, I sigh and pull the water from his airway. Ensuring to turn the snow surrounding his legs into ice, and grabbing the wand from his grip before he can try anything else. Two other disarming spells land successfully, and I end up with three wands total.
Taking quick stock of the motionless bodies, I don’t think either have come to yet. So, while staring at the sputtering man in front of me, I call out, “It’s safe!”
Four sets of crunching footsteps approach, and when the first set is close, I turn to smile at them. Tom is the first to my side, eyes scanning my body for any sign of injury before he kisses the top of my head.
“Are you hurt?” he whispers in my ear. Shaking my head to the contrary, Riddle lets out a puff of air, his shoulders releasing their tension before he raises back to his full height.
“If you don’t mind, you’re much better at Legilimency than I am,” I ask, my smile sharpening. “As long as he stays in one piece when we hand him over, I don’t care what state he’s in.”
“It would be my pleasure,” he responds with a wolfish grin. Turning red eyes on the man frozen to the ground, I cast a silencing charm around them before my attention leaves him.
Mary is helping Eithne walk while Malfoy diligently gathers the unconscious people, binding their extremities with a few flicks of his wand. Seeing that he has everything under control, I close the distance between me and my burnt friend.
“How bad is it?” I ask with concern, already noticing angry scorch marks across her face and legs.
“My leg got the worst of it, thankfully,” Eithne says with a wince, but her eyes are dry now. “I’ll heal after a day or two in the hospital wing, but I don’t know the next time I’m going to stop to smell flowers.”
Mary’s face is scrunched with rage while she glares daggers at the man Tom is tending to, but changes to a mix of awe and confusion when she looks at me, “You were bloody brilliant— later we will discuss you teaching me how to fight like that— but wow. Oh, and I already helped Sayre with what I know about treating burns. However, I’d still like to leave with her now and get some burn paste on it before long.”
“Uhh, yeah, sure. But, yes, please go. As soon as this is taken care of, I’ll come see how you’re doing,” I tell them with a kind but overwhelmed smile. As they turn to leave, I stop them briefly, “Wait! I’m sure someone will ask what happened, but please make sure that some other student goes to tell Dumbledore. We’ll stay here until faculty arrives.”
“Of course,” Eithne says with a strained smile, the burn on her face pulling the muscles in new ways.
Then Mary crouches down, allowing the small blonde to easily climb onto her back before they’re off. My eyes stay trained on them and their assent back to Hogwart’s grounds, only leaving once I’ve ensured they’re inside. Finding Abraxas again is easy, seeing as he moved himself and our current prisoners closer to Tom— who is intently concentrating on a silently screaming man. This time, Malfoy is who I approach, noticing that one of the bound men has woken up.
“Has he told you anything?” I inquire curiously. Doubtful, but my name isn’t Hope for nothing.
“Only that they’re Americans,” he tells me with a shrug, never looking away from those in question. “Tom will find everything they know, although I do wonder how much of their minds will be left if professors don’t arrive soon.”
Smelling the copper of more blood in the air, and shrug back at him, “I don’t know what the punishment would be for hurting those likely sent here to abduct me— or worse. Something tells me Dippet will be more concerned by the attack than the attacker’s well being. Worst case, the excuse will be damage sustained during my fight with them.”
He nods his understanding, and then the silence of what should have been a nice night falls while we wait for someone to show up.
********
January 23rd, 1944
Tom
Pacing; an activity that uses up latent energy while being repetitive enough to allow my brain to sort through the current mess. The night before was…a revelation of sorts for me. The overwhelming pride and attraction I felt for Hope as she took down three adult wizards was stifling, however that was nothing new for me. Truth be told, I worried that someone in this world might hear about her talents and come sniffing around like the dogs in my house currently salivating at the thought of breeding my girlfriend.
While I am strong enough to defend her, I will never be able to fight by her side unless we soul bond. Feeling insignificant, even in the face of someone I care about, scratches at old wounds that threaten to overtake my practiced calm. The need, the absolute craving to be important in this world chafes terribly against the understanding that pushing will not result in the life I want.
Hope is a powerful witch with the intellect to decipher who wants her and who wants her magic, and my position in her life is still finite. Needling her into an engagement is a doomed plan, I realized this long ago. Yet, how could I possibly protect her against the greed and ambition swirling around her like vultures?
The sharp crackle of flames in the Room of Requirement offers no comfort, neither does the fire whiskey I summoned. This bar usually helps to calm my nerves, a familiar place with the power to keep unwanted company away. Today, it does little to alleviate the nagging within each and every cell calling for more power.
However, this space has more than one purpose— Hope responds well to familiarity, to the impression of relaxed normalcy. If I can create the illusion of safety, perhaps she will be more receptive to a conversation about our futures. Being in the very same bar that we first met in all those months ago, my goal is to calmly see how much closer I’ve come to proving myself to her.
The door creaks open, and my head whips to watch my witch enter the space. I turn before she steps through, my heart lurching at the sight of her. Her hair is mussed from anxious fingers, and the anger already present in her expression sets me on edge. Her blue eyes, usually so sharp and clear, are shadowed with hurt and suspicion.
“Tom,” she breathes, relief laces her voice and wraps around my name. Pride flares at the sound, and I cross the space in an instant.
“Hope,” I reply, holding out my hand. “Come here.”
A small smile tugs at her lips as her hand slips into mine, and I pull her into my arms, inhaling deeply into her hair. Her body is tense, and I feel tremors running through her muscles. For a moment, we stand in silence, her forehead against my chest while I memorize the way she fits against me. How I ever bothered with other witches is now beyond me— not when my salvation is sighing into my chest, slowly relaxing in my hold.
“What did he say?” I ask softly, hating the tautness that returns with the question.
“You were right,” she whispers after a shuddering breath. “The men who attacked us, Grindlewald sent them. Dumbledore didn’t seem particularly surprised by what happened, and…”
The words are a hot spike through my chest, and Hope’s voice becomes strained before tapering off. My grip tightens involuntarily, fingers curling into her back, “Let me guess, the meddlesome old man planned this.”
She jerks back, eyes wide as she breathlessly tells me, “I never said that.”
“No, no you did not. Likely, Dumbledore never blatantly admitted to such a thing,” I allow, my anger still steadily rising. “However, you believe it. Do you not?”
She stares at me for a long time, suspicion flickering in her expression. But then she sighs, sagging against me once more, “I don’t want to be a pawn in their war. My Aunts sent me here to save me from being such a thing, but I just can’t seem to escape. How did you know?”
“It’s what I would do if I wanted to lure out a dangerous enemy: dangle an irresistible target,” I force a smile and a lightness in my tone I don’t feel. “And who could resist you, Darling?”
Hope’s shoulders shake lightly with laughter, but I’m trapped in a river of rage. Dumbledore has been the bain of my existence since I came to this school, so it’s only fitting that he would be the one to disturb the peace I’ve almost found. I knew, I just knew that the old bastard was not taking Hope in through the good will he pretends to garner.
The man practically taunted me at the Halloween Ball, it would not shock me if Dumbledore actually wanted Hope to ensnare me with her wiles. If he was afforded a look into the books that detail our world, if he saw what Hope showed me…the pieces fit together too well for me to convince myself otherwise. Given what I now know, the old man may have actually saved me, however I doubt that was his particular intention.
No, he likely sought to distract me, pulling me from the path that would have ended in needless death and destruction. Those actions likely have little to do with my soul, and more to do with Dumbledore’s incessant need to shape witches and wizards how he sees fit. The fact that he’s dug his bony fingers into Hope, using her to change the events of this world, makes my blood boil.
“He said that he feared ‘something like this might happen,’ telling me that I’m still save within Hogwarts. But, how true is that? If Grindlewald knows about me, about where I am, then there will be a way to get to me,” Hope says as she trembles in my arms.
The fire crackles behind us, casting long shadows that dance across the walls like specters of my thoughts. My fingers trail along her spine, grounding me as my fury coils tighter within my chest.
“Hope,” I murmur, keeping my voice measured. “Dumbledore sees you as a tool.”
“I know,” she says stiffly, though the bitterness in her voice is unfamiliar. “I just don’t want to believe it. My friends would laugh at me if they found out I naively attached myself to the man, everyone in my world is more than aware of his morally ambiguous actions.”
My hand cups her jaw, tilting her face toward mine, and I whisper while searching her eyes, “You know how to stop him, don’t you? How to separate yourself from Dumbledore and his reach?”
Her eyes narrow, but her voice just sounds tired, “And how would I do that, Tom?”
“By choosing your allies with care,” I answer smoothly, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “By tethering yourself to someone who doesn’t see you as only your power or a pawn to played. Someone who wants you. In this world, the best way to leave a family is by entering a new one.”
Her lips part, and the air between us thickens. My pulse hammers in my ears as she pulls away, striding to the bar, and relieving herself of her outer robes.
“A soul bond,” she says, voice brittle. “That’s what you’re suggesting.”
With a sigh, I close some of the distance she created, and lightly placing a hand over the one she has resting against the bar, “I can’t…I won’t be able to protect you the way you need as I am now. Last night, it killed me to watch you walk into danger, knowing that there would be little I could do if you were captured.
“While three wizards may be an easy battle, eventually someone will find a way to overwhelm you. Regardless of how feeble you attempt to portray yourself. As your husband, I will be able to stand by your side, and no one will be able to use you again.”
Hope turns to face me, blue eyes stormy as she softly says, “You make it sound so simple. But this bond… it isn’t just about protection. It would change everything.”
“For the better,” I counter, stepping closer. “Together, we’d be unstoppable. We wouldn’t have to be pawns.”
“And Grindlewald?” she breathes out, and I can see her inner turmoil in the churning blue of her eyes.
“He won’t risk facing you directly,” I say, commanding it to be true. “Not if he knows you’re protected— and with a soul bond, we’d be stronger together than anyone could imagine.”
“Tom,” she whispers, sadness saturating her tone. Her gaze drops to our interlocked hands on the bar top, “What if it doesn’t work the way you think it will? What if it makes things worse?”
I swallow hard, forcing down the desperation rising in my throat, and ensure my voice is filled with determination as I promise, “It won’t. Because I won’t let it. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not Dumbledore. Not Grindlewald. No one.”
Her silence stretches like a knife’s edge between us. I let Hope’s mind whirl with whatever thoughts must be plaguing her. Through our conversations, I learned that I cannot blame her lack of faith in my words and actions. Even without knowing her entire history. What I do know is that Hope has lived a life full of perilous lies and traps, all created with the intent of using her.
While my life has been decidedly different, the little orphan boy within calls out to the lost girl craving a safe place to belong. Danger will likely always lurk around the corner in her life, something she must know by now, and so the only option is having someone who can help protect her from such. Then, with a sigh, she returns to my arms, resting her head against my chest.
“I need two promises from you before I’ll agree to think about this,” she whispers, shaking her head— likely in disbelief of her own words. “First, I just…I have to be sure, Tom. Before bonding with you, I need to look into your mind— I know this is a terrible thing to ask. But, I don’t think I could enter a soul bond with anyone without completely knowing their intentions.”
“After a touch more Legilimency training, I have no issue with you entering my mind,” I tell her, my heart soaring higher than a bird in flight. My witch can have anything she’d like, especially when she agrees that she’s mine, “What is the other?”
Pulling away enough to search my face, Hope looks lower than sad— defeat lingers in her eyes and voice, “You have to swear on your magic to never turn off your humanity.”