Dawn Potter crawled through the opening under the Whomping Willow that led to the Shrieking Shack in the dead of night. She'd only been in the past for two months, and even though she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t be getting involved in the war, here she was sneaking out after curfew to meet the Dark Lord. She brushed herself off and removed the invisibility cloak, storing it in her bag for later.
The tunnel went on and on, giving Dawn some very much not needed time to think. She had a good life here. It was only two months old, but it was good. It was better than her old life. Here, no one expected her to defeat a dark wizard as a teen; they didn’t put all their hopes and dreams on a child. Instead, they put their hopes and dreams on a doddering old man who didn’t give two shits about them; a man that would let hundreds, if not thousands, of them die just so he could rule over magical Britain from the shadows. Here, in 1976, Dawn had real friends. She’d found herself surprisingly drawn to the sixteen-year-old version of her potions professor, Severus, and the younger brother she’d never known that Sirius had, Regulus. They were so much different than Ron and Hermione. Her new trio spoke less than the ‘golden’ one she’d left behind, but they said so much more. Dawn didn’t have to worry about them being friends with her for her fame or her money; she could be honest with Severus and Regulus in a way she’d never been able to be with anyone else, because neither of them had happy home lives either.
Dawn Peverell, unlike Dawn Potter, had not been able to talk the hat out of Slytherin, but she was making the best of it. Her name was respectable enough to keep the purebloods off her back and her quiet nature kept pretty much everyone else away. Instead of killing Nazareth the basilisk, she’d bonded with her and had already made more money than she’d ever had her hands on in the past (future?) by selling her venom. Dawn Peverell could have a nice, quiet life. But a large part of her was still Dawn Potter and that part had a massive hero complex and little to no regard for her own life.
So, she’d sent a letter in parselwrit to Tom and invited him to come talk about his future. She didn’t sign her name on the off chance he’d just have her killed without bothering to show up. He might still kill her. No, he’d probably still kill her, but it would be better to just get it over with, rather than live the rest of her life in fear. It was exhausting.
She got to the end of the tunnel and threw the trapdoor open then clamored up inside and shut it behind her. It was half past midnight, so she had some time to waste. This also meant that she had time to worry. For the next half hour, she paced around the room and regretted every choice she’d ever made. Would it really have been so bad looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life? She could have fucked off to some random forest and left society behind forever, but her dumb ‘saving people thing’ wouldn’t let her rest. She couldn’t stop herself from pacing back and forth, over and over again until an unseen spell threw her to the wall and trapped her there.
“Hey!” she said angrily as she tried to wriggle out of the foreign magic. “What the fuck!” Two tall figures entered the shack from the exterior door. The first was Lucius Malfoy, currently a seventh year and Head Boy. He’d only spoken to Dawn a handful of times so the confused look on his face was perfectly understandable.
“Peverell?” he asked in disbelief.
“Malfoy,” she replied darkly. This one hadn’t done anything to her, but he was a Malfoy, so it was only a matter of time. Her eyes moved to the other figure and found a much different Dark Lord than the one she’d left behind. He was about fifty years old in 1976, but he looked like he was in his late twenties. He looked like an older version of the diary spirit she’d met; he was elegant and regal with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, his hair was golden brown and wavy, without a single strand out of place.
“Let me down!” she growled.
“I don’t take orders,” the Dark Lord replied with narrowed eyes. He secured the shack with a myriad of wards and sat on the couch casually while Lucius stood against one of the walls.
“Look, man, I didn’t have to come here! I could’ve lived the rest of my life in peaceful obscurity and left magical Britain to rot!” she told him. “Except my bleeding-fucking-heart cannot, in good conscious, let you turn into that noseless monster,” she didn’t bother trying to hide her disgust, “without giving you a chance to see the error of your ways.”
“‘The error of my ways’?” Tom repeated darkly. He stood from his seat slowly and uncrossed his arms as he stalked over to the wall Dawn was still stuck to. He stopped mere inches from her face, but Dawn didn’t back down; she didn’t turn away, and she didn’t let her fear show. She focused on Tom’s bluer-than-blue eyes and switched to parseltongue.
“~You turn into a monster, Tom~,” she said. His eyes widened briefly before he rid his face of all emotion. Lucius, still against the back wall, flinched so hard he practically jumped out of his skin.
“~Don’t call me that~,” he said slowly, enunciating each word as he pressed his face so close to hers that their noses were almost touching.
“~Well I’m not calling you ‘Lord Voldemort~,’” she mocked his dumb anagram, and he growled in response.
“~You will show me the respect I am due~!” he demanded.
“~I am~,” she smirked. The smirk disappeared and she screamed as Tom crucioed her for her insolence. It went on for a long time and when he finally let go, Dawn was a twitching mess. To make matters worse, he ended the sticking spell that kept her up on the wall and she collapsed to the ground. “~Arsehole~,” she spat as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. At least she hadn’t screamed.
“~Why did you ask me to meet you here~?” he demanded.
“~To show you what you become~,” she told him. “~Look into my mind~,” she invited. “~Afterwards, kill me, don’t kill me, I really don’t care anymore; I’m just tired of fighting~.” He surged forward and grabbed her chin tightly. He dove into her mind with the same voracity as Snape and Dawn barely stopped herself from crying out in pain.
He saw flashes of these past two months but pushed beyond them quickly. He saw the ministry and the prophecy. He went back further, through the DA and detentions with Umbridge, he watched his revival and saw Cedric die, he saw the tournament, the dementors, the Chamber of Secrets, and the Philosopher’s stone. He lingered on memories of himself then pushed further, going through her years with the Dursleys until he got to her first memory, when he killed her mother. He removed himself from her mind and Dawn keeled over from the pain. She thought she was crying, but when she pulled her hands away from her face they were covered in blood.
She could here Tom and Lucius speaking but she wasn’t sure exactly what was being said. Her heartbeat was pounding in her head, muffling everything other than pain. Someone touched her and she flinched, backing herself up to a wall on instinct. Tom was yelling at Lucius, who knelt before him fearfully on the ground. Tom pointed harshly at the door and the blonde left quickly. Tom turned and approached Dawn cautiously. He kneeled beside her and cupped her face again, gently this time, and wiped away her bloody tears.
“~Oh, my dear, my darling, my own~,” he said as he looked deeply into her eyes. “~No one will ever harm you again~.” Dawn flinched and tried to back away from him, but there wasn’t anywhere for her to go. That response was not what she’d expected.
“~I d- I don’t understand~,” she said.
“~Of course not, you precious thing~,” he stroked her face gently. “~The headmaster spoke to you of our connection, yes~?” Dawn nodded as Tom ran one of his hands through her hair. “~Let me show you~.”
This time he pulled her into his mind. He only showed her what was absolutely necessary: bits of a childhood that mirrored her own; a different magical war coupled with a muggle war, both of which threatened his safety; fear as potent and vivid as her own; the hunt for immortality, which led to horcruxes. And it all made sense: she was a horcrux. She was crying again as he pushed her back out into reality. Her body betrayed her as it jolted forward to embrace him, though the more logical part of her brain stopped her before she got there. He’d crucioed her not ten minutes ago, and now she was seconds away from hugging him?
“~You’re not going to hurt me~?” she asked.
“~Never again, my darling~,” he promised. “~I will never harm you again~,” he repeated. Their magics met between them and a flash of light told her that magic had taken his words as a vow.
“~But… the prophecy~,” she said. Tom smiled down at her like she was a lost child, which she supposed she was.
“~Prophecies are notoriously hard to interpret. Most are only understood after they have come to pass~,” he told her, stroking her face gently. “~You have given me much to think on, little one. I will write to you through Lucius, but for now I must go~.”
He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead as he wrapped his arms around her. She tensed under his touch but relaxed as he started rubbing circles on her back and whispering sweet promises in her ear. He stood the both of them up and called Lucius back inside. He kept one of his hands on her shoulder as the blonde came in on eggshells.
“My Lord,” Lucius intoned. He flicked his eyes to Dawn, then to the Dark Lord’s hand on her.
“I have new orders, Lucius,” he said in monotone.
“I am at your service, My Lord,” Lucius replied.
“Good,” Tom smiled dangerously. “Miss Peverell is under my protection now, which means she is also under your protection. While she is within the castle walls, her safety is your responsibility.”
“I understand, My Lord.”
“~Is this really necessary ~,” Dawn asked while grimacing. “~He looks like he’s going to wet himself~.”
“~That’s part of the fun, my love~,” Tom smiled down at her and squeezed her shoulder. He switched back to English, “If so much as a hair on her head is harmed,” he warned and pulled Dawn back against him to emphasize his point, “there will be hell to pay.” Lucius was doing his very best not to look terrified.
“I will keep her safe, My Lord,” he said, flicking his eyes down to her again.
“You’d better.” He looked down at Dawn and spun her around, so they were face-to-face again. “~I will take care of everything, little one, and you will hear from me soon~.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead again though he did not immediately let go. Dawn wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him gently.
“~I’ll be okay~,” she told him, though he did not look convinced.
“Stay away from Dumbledore,” he warned in English.
“Always,” she replied. He looked her over once more before reluctantly removing his hands. The loss of contact was oddly painful for both of them, and they held each other’s gaze for a long time.
“Go,” he finally said, “Before I change my mind.”