I'm posting this chapter a few days earlier than I thought I would, but I couldn't resist!
"So what are your names?" Perseus asked as he led them through the forest, running back every so often to make sure they hadn't gotten lost.
"I'm Ruth Davies, and this is my husband, Henry," Danielle said, trying not to laugh. Tom was looking at her as if marrying "Ruth" had been the worst decision he'd ever made.
"You don't act like you're married," Perseus said bluntly after a moment of thought.
"What makes you think that?" Danielle asked, but before the boy could answer he disappeared out of sight, only to reappear seconds later, beckoning them behind a tree.
"There it is," Perseus said, pointing at something in the distance. Danielle pulled aside a branch and her eyes widened as she took in the daunting sight.
Nurmengard was a forbidding stone fortress, standing hundreds of feet tall. Black-clad guards were pacing around the perimeter, and there were no windows or doors that Danielle could see. It balanced on a set of craggy rocks next to a large body of water, and reminded her of the pictures she'd seen of Azkaban.
"My great-uncle was locked in there for years," Perseus breathed. "But they say he died…"
"Dylan," Danielle mouthed at Tom. He didn't give any indication that he'd heard her; he was staring at the prison with a look of intense concentration.
"Why do you want to go there?" Perseus asked, his wide brown eyes meeting Danielle's. Merlin, if she didn't know better she would have thought he was Alphard's son…they were completely identical.
"We just wanted to see it," Tom said shortly, interrupting Danielle's answer. "Thank you very much. Come, Ruth." Now he was the one to pull Danielle away, leaving Perseus staring after them.
"What are you doing?" Danielle demanded. "We could have looked for ways to get inside!"
"The building has powerful magical protection surrounding it," Tom said. "We would be noticed if we stayed too long."
They'd reached the cottage by then, so she couldn't argue with him any longer. Cepheus and Sylvia smiled wanly at them as they walked inside.
"Remind me why you cast a Memory Charm on them again? Cepheus was going to help us!" Danielle whispered furiously at Tom.
"I do not need help," he replied shortly.
"Then why have I saved your life so many times?"
Eyes flashing dangerously, he rounded on her, but Perseus bounded between them in an attempt to get past. Danielle ruffled the little boy's hair affectionately and walked into the sitting-room, where she examined the bookshelf, trying to ignore Tom. She was sure the books were Sylvia's—they were all Muggle classics. The old woman and Billy, with his insatiable love of reading, would have been best friends.
Her eyes landed on a tattered copy of Wuthering Heights tucked in the corner, and she smiled, reaching out and brushing her fingers along the spine.
"You've read it?" Sylvia asked, noticing Danielle's wry grin.
She nodded. "One of my friends gave it to me as a gift."
Sylvia opened her mouth, presumably to ask who, but Danielle felt a tugging on her arm as Tom pulled her into the small guest room, shooting a polite smile back over his shoulder. "What did you do that for?" she demanded, yanking her arm out of his grasp.
"Muggle books are not allowed in this time, as you very well know," he hissed, turning away from Danielle as if he couldn't even stand to look at her. "Do you want her asking questions about how you managed to obtain a copy of it?"
"Maybe they wouldn't ask questions if you hadn't cast a Memory Charm on them!" she shot back. "So what are we going to do now, huh? Go to Nurmengard right this instant so we can get away from here?"
"Tomorrow," Tom replied shortly. "I need time to plan." He pulled a stack of books out of his suitcase—Merlin, if I ever see those bloody books again I am going to scream—Danielle thought angrily. Really, she was beginning to wonder why the Sorting Hat would even consider her for Ravenclaw. She remembered the first time she'd seen the Prefects' common room and how excited she'd been to see the books there, books that couldn't be found anywhere else in Hogwarts.
Now her heart ached at the thought of the school. Hogwarts was the only place she felt safe and protected—now it was no longer a refuge. Pushing thoughts of the castle out of her mind, Danielle crossed her arms and asked, "Can I help?"
"I have things figured out," Tom replied, scarcely looking up from his books.
"Have it your way, then," Danielle muttered. She felt suddenly claustrophobic in the tiny room—she needed to get out. Without looking back at him, she opened the door and left, feeling a sense of relief when she stepped outside.
It was a humid day, and as she made her way to the cliff she could feel the salty spray blow into her face. Her patience only ran so far, even with Tom. He had to learn that she wouldn't put up with him acting like an arrogant git forever.
But look at her, acting as if she could change him! Perhaps she was the foolish one. Just because he "cared" for her and even kissed her on occasion didn't mean he had to change. He could revert back to the self she'd met him as, the self he really was, at any moment. And she would be powerless to stop it.
Danielle stood on the edge of the cliff, watching the waves crash against the shore and soaking the rocks below. The wind carried a taste of salt that lingered on her tongue, and fear began to rush through her veins like a slow-acting poison as she contemplated what would happen if they were caught. Gulls screeched and wheeled above her head as one brave bird broke apart from the flock, circling down to the water where it was hit by an enormous whitecap and rose, screeching but with a flopping fish in its mouth, triumphant.
With a sudden burst of daring, Danielle took a step forward so that the edge of her shoes were dangling over the cliff, her heels the only thing tethering her to land. She stared out across the water and imagined she could see Nurmengard on the other side. "Damn you, Georgina," she muttered. If only the stupid girl hadn't withheld the information from Dumbledore. Couldn't she have at least waited another twelve bloody hours to leave Hogwarts?
"DAMN YOU!" Danielle screamed again, but this time she wasn't just yelling at Georgina. She was blaming Tom, herself, Dumbledore, God…for their current situation. She wasn't a Gryffindor. She didn't want to be doing this.
Her echo reverberated around the cliffs until it sounded like a thousand Danielles were yelling at once. But her cry was drowned out by the shrieks of the seagulls.
Taking a step back from the edge, she pulled out her wand and aimed it at a nearby rock. She could feel raw magic searing through her veins now, bubbling and spitting and hissing. Incendio, she thought, and the rock instantly burst into flames.
Danielle laughed out loud—she'd thought that she'd never be able to master non-verbal spells. But Dippet had been right—she'd just had to let the magic flow through her and concentrate fully on it. She put out the flames with another wave of her wand and this time thought, Wingardium Leviosa!
The rock rose into the air and she caught it in her outstretched hand. Her mood had turned from frustrated to joyous. She could feel the magic singing in her veins, and for the first time she could understand why Tom yearned for power. It was an exhilarating feeling, like her nerves had been set on edge, singing and dancing and humming.
A smile broke out across her face and, her anger gone, began to walk back to the cottage, casting spells on random objects along with way without uttering a single word aloud.
When Tom was confident that he would be able to make it into Nurmengard without being caught, he closed the books and put them back in his suitcase, a satisfied smirk on his face. It would be too simple. And Clara would obey him at the end of the day no matter how much she protested beforehand, so she wouldn't be a nuisance.
After they'd found that ridiculous Taylor girl and brought her back to 1944, Tom would obtain Clara's Time-Turner and travel to the future. He would find the diadem in the interim before Grindelwald stole it. Tom felt a cold hatred for the Dark wizard—the diadem didn't belong to Grindelwald; it belonged to Tom himself, the heir of both Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Once he was cured and his magic had returned to its full power, he would turn his attention to discovering ways of becoming immortal. When he learned how to create Horcruxes, he would begin his search to find appropriate vessels for them.
The only problem now was her. Even if Tom did make himself immortal and gain power in the way his future self couldn't, Clara would still be mortal. She would die one day, left to rot in a graveyard like his pathetic, weak mother. The idea infuriated Tom more strongly than he would have thought possible. He was certain Clara wouldn't be able to create a Horcrux—even if she could, she wouldn't want to. Her soul was too pure, too untainted. Tom would have to find some way to make her immortal that didn't involve her consciously realizing it.
He stood up and swept over to the window, gazing over to where Clara stood on the cliff, staring out at the sea. The silly girl was probably missing her family and friends. Tom snorted in derision—he was thrilled to finally leave the MacDougal twins and Black behind. Not to mention that pathetic lump of a boy, Erik Dahl, and the snide one, Skender Bardhi. Bardhi had better count his blessings that he'd escaped from Tom just in time.
There was a knock at his door and Tom turned back around. "Enter," he called, watching as Cepheus stepped in. His grip automatically tightened on his wand; the boy and the Muggle woman he could deal with, but not this wizard. He had an air about him that reminded Tom of Dumbledore; meddling old fool.
Cepheus was holding that blasted book Clara had been looking at. "Sylvia thought Ruth might want to read it," he said, casting Tom a dark look. Feeling amused, Tom probed through his mind and easily found the cause of his gruffness: Sylvia was afraid of him and, by extension, the old man was as well. Even after Tom's Memory Charm, they were still unsettled.
Well, at least they weren't completely stupid. Unlike certain witches he knew who kept coming back to him, no matter what he did.
Tom smiled charmingly and took the book, thanking Cepheus. With another suspicious glare, the man retreated, and Tom was left alone to breathe a sigh of relief.
He would have to find some way to prevent MacDougal and Black from breeding. Though, by the looks of what he had witnessed back in his own time, it was probably too late.
Tom meant to carelessly throw the book onto Clara's suitcase, but he had to admit it caught his attention. What was in this book that made her enjoy it so much? Although he could clearly read her intentions, there was much he had yet to discover about her.
He glanced at the book one more time before flipping it open.
The sun was beginning to set when Danielle re-entered the cottage. Sylvia was making dinner for them, despite her protests that they had their own food, and Cepheus was reading Perseus a Muggle fairy tale. Danielle quietly slipped into the guest room, hoping Tom wasn't still cross at her.
He was sitting on the bed, reading, as she'd expected him to be. But it wasn't a textbook, as she'd presumed—he was reading Wuthering Heights.
Danielle actually had to rub her eyes and blink several times to make sure she was seeing correctly. "What are you—why—" she stammered.
"I was curious," he replied, closing the book and standing up. "I thought it might give me more insight into your character."
"And…?"
"I rather think it did." Danielle backed up into the wall as Tom walked toward her but stopped when there was several inches of space between them. "You are enticed by words," he murmured, his eyes burning into hers. "I will have to remember that."
"What about you?" Danielle asked shakily.
He merely raised one eyebrow, touching his lips to her forehead briefly before pulling away. "I must admit parts of the book were quite entertaining. I did not expect you to enjoy something so…violent."
"What did you have in mind? Romeo and Juliet? Or something else by Shakespeare?"
Tom smirked. "Sometimes he did get it right."
"The only time you'd agree a Muggle did," Danielle muttered under her breath.
His grin widened. "Why do you assume he was a Muggle?"
"Why do you assume he was a wizard?" she countered. "You just can't accept that Muggles are intelligent as well—more intelligent than wizards in some respects!"
"What proof do you have?" Tom asked, still infuriatingly calm. Before Danielle could rattle off a list of reasons, the door creaked open and Perseus stuck his head in.
"Mummy wants me to tell you that dinner's ready," he exclaimed, not noticing the tense atmosphere. Of course, Tom declined dinner, so Danielle was left alone to eat with the others.
"Have you managed to tame Gilgamesh yet?" Sylvia asked in the middle of the meal.
Danielle froze with her forkful of chicken halfway to her mouth. "What?" she choked.
"Sometimes you have to beat him at his own game," the old woman said, and actually winked.
Danielle spent the remainder of dinner wondering what Sylvia meant. When she went back into their room Tom was preparing for the next day's attack on Nurmengard. "Do you think we'll find Georgina?" she asked absent-mindedly while really pondering Sylvia's ambiguous comments.
"I believe so," he replied. "There is really nowhere she could have escaped to."
He glanced up at her, his eyes shining with that strangely amused light Danielle couldn't resist, and with a sudden start an idea began to form in her mind.
Of course, she went to bed before Tom that night. Her heart was pounding in anticipation of what was to come the next day. She didn't want him to see how truly terrified she really was, so she acted like it wasn't weighing heavily on her mind. She finally fell into an uneasy sleep, and comforted herself listening to Tom's steady breathing beside her.
Danielle awoke very early the next morning, and saw that Tom was still lying next to her. She'd woken up before him for once. Inwardly laughing, Danielle leaned over and gently grazed his ear with her teeth before pulling herself up to a sitting position and throwing her leg over his waist so that she was straddling him. Propping up on her elbows, she moved her lips to his jaw, kissing along his neck and throat until she reached his lips.
That woke him up. His eyes snapped open, taking less than a second to fix on her. "Clara, would you kindly explain what you are doing?" he asked, sarcasm and annoyance evident in every syllable.
"I can do what I want to my husband," she teased, and brought her mouth back down to his, letting her tongue slide across his lips.
He was as unresponsive as a statue. Danielle inwardly cursed—this would be more difficult than she'd thought. Gently, she kissed his nose and then his eyelids, letting her hair brush against his face. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she moved her mouth down, to the nape of his neck.
"You are trying too hard," he murmured, his hands reaching up to her face and pushing her back from him.
"It's not my fault you're made of stone," she mumbled.
"Am I?" Tom asked, and now it was his turn to kiss her, his warm lips moving against hers softly and then with an earnestness that made her heart race even faster. Danielle twined her hands in his hair, kissing him back as hard as she could.
With a low groan—she wasn't sure if it was voluntary or not—Tom flipped them over, so she was trapped beneath him. His eyes were sparkling with some sort of victory, and she realized that he'd cast a Silencing Spell on the door.
Now it was his turn to place hard kisses down her throat, his mouth lingering on the spot where the hammering of her heart was visible, before she felt his fingers begin to play at the hem of her shirt. One hand traveled slowly down the length of her body, stopping at her thigh, and he pulled it over his leg.
They were kissing more urgently now, and Danielle could feel him tugging her robes off her, his hips digging into hers. Tom's touch burned her skin, and she finally understood those romance novels she had laughed at when she was younger.
"Have my…feminine charms finally got to you?" Danielle managed to gasp as his lips danced over her bare arm.
"Do not flatter yourself," he warned. She could feel the vibration of his voice against her skin.
"I can't believe you sleep in a tie," she muttered. They were still fully clothed, though his were rumpled and her robes were beginning to fall away from her shoulders.
With one last rush of mischievousness, Danielle extended her finger and lightly brushed it down the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons as she did. Tom made no move to stop her, and she traced a pattern on his bare abdomen as he gave an involuntary shudder.
All of a sudden, Danielle pulled away from him, taking advantage of his lethargy to roll out from under him and standing up.
"How does it feel now?" she asked him smugly. "That's revenge for that night in the Leaky Cauldron."
With that, she left the room, leaving Tom sitting on the bed with a furious expression. His shirt was wide open, his hollow cheeks were flushed with red and his normally carefully parted hair was as unruly as hers usually was.
Sylvia was bustling around in the kitchen. When she saw Danielle she smiled and exclaimed, "Good morning! Is Henry awake yet?"
"Oh, he's awake," Danielle answered. "He's just a bit…frustrated…right now." She sat down at the table and took a bite of pancake, unable to keep the grin off her face when Tom appeared. He looked as polished as ever, but the muted burning in his eyes signaled that Danielle was going to pay for it later. He sat down across from her, and Danielle waited until their eyes met before biting her lip suggestively, looking up at him with hooded eyes. He shot her a warning look, and quickly glanced away. If Sylvia hadn't been there, Danielle would have laughed aloud—she had well and truly gotten the better of him.