Beta: Cloudy

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Returning to Hogwarts was done with little affair. Although as soon as my babeh snakes spotted me they did some double-takes. Daphne and Pansy squealed loudly. Pansy proceeded to then literally kick Draco out of the compartment so Tracey and Millie could squeeze in. I was dumped onto the floor so the girls could play with my hair on the way to Hogwarts. They twisted and tied it into different styles. Daphne temporarily lengthened it with a hair-growing and the girls really went to town on it.

Blaise tried to join in, but there was no room so I had to promise I'd let him play with my hair again after dinner. The girls were giddy with joy over it and their giggles and gleeful squeals brought a smile to my face.

The train ride down was one filled with delight, and the feast was remarkably cheerful. The Slytherins stayed up far too late in the night chatting and playing games that when classes resumed the following day we were tiredly rubbing at our eyes.

The first week back passed by without fuss.

And then I got the Daily Prophet headlines I'd been looking out for.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN

Oh goody, I thought joyfully as I read the Daily Prophet.

Voldemort had freed his Death Eaters from Azkaban.

All the pieces were on the board.

Yay, yay, yay, I thought with a big smile on my face. Now I won't have to trouble Booboo by killing his charges!

All I needed now was to prepare a trap for Voldemort. Golly gosh what an exciting time.

Not everyone was as happy about the news as I was, but it couldn't be helped. They would need to deal with a little discomfort until I made my move.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Every evening after dinner and before bed, I visited Tom. The boy—young man, I supposed, it was kind of hard how to define our ages since we were both mentally so much older than our physical bodies—was always preoccupied with something when I showed up. He loved inventing new spells and rituals, and had refurbished a portion of the basement to practice his spellcasting.

Voldemort, he had told me, was weakened from being freshly reborn. The next time they crossed paths Voldemort would be better prepared, and so should Tom.

When he wasn't working on his lethality, he dabbled in hobbies. He continued the piano, and had a ravenous appetite for mystery novels, but he also branched out to try different things. His current flavor of the week was trying out the cello.

I was very happy for him—hobbies did wonders for mental health, something I knew Tom needed to work on. His disdain for Voldemort bordered on obsessive hatred. Helpful for my plans to defeat Voldemort, but concerning for Tom's self-image.

One evening I hopped out of my chest to find that Tom had taken over the dining room table. The living room had become a cluttered mess of paperwork, floating chalk boards, and odd arcane runes scratched into the floors. Worst of all some furniture had been ripped to shreds.

Yeesh, I thought to myself as I stared at Tom. He was sitting cross-legged on the dining room table, his eyes closed as he concentrated on… something.

"Tom?" I probed. "You okay?"

When he did not respond, I reached out a tentative hand to place on his shoulder. His cool magic curled into mine, and he opened his eyes.

He said, "Apologies, I was doing some tracking."

"I see a tornado hit the living room."

"I… was a little frustrated," he admitted, his cheeks tinged pink. "I'll fix it in a moment."

"Anything I can do?" I asked.

"N—Yes," he said. "Maybe?"

"What do you need?"

He hesitated. "Harry's been doing very well in his Occlumency."

"Uh-huh?"

"That—" Tom shifted his weight uneasily, a disdainful expression crossing over him. "—thing has recently figured out there was a connection between him and Harry."

"There shouldn't be anymore," I said with a narrowed gaze. "Harry's Occlumency has been top-notch. He hasn't had any special nightmares for months. Why is this a recent connection and how do you know about it?"

Tom glanced away from me. "I may have been impersonating the soul fragment in your brother's skull and feeding false memories to it."

"You—I'm sorry, what?" I hadn't meant to shout but what he said completely floored me.

"Well," Tom said testily, "as long as a fragment is active the connection is there. Harry locked his up nicely, and he did it before that thing even realized it was there. I could keep myself hidden as I am an excellent Occlumency user myself, but why miss such an opportunity? It can't keep itself nearly as well hidden as it thinks it can."

"So—what? Vold—" Tom glared at me, and I hastily corrected myself, "—that thing thinks you're Harry?"

"Yes," said Tom.

"Okay," I said slowly. "And it only made this connection recently?"

"Today," said Tom, his lips curled back in a sneer. "After months of probing it, it only noticed today."

"And that's bad?"

"It's depressing," Tom flatly said.

"Ah," I said, as I realized what may have caused my darling's temper tantrum. "Er—were you able to find anything useful?"

"Its mind is a bloody mess," he said reproachfully. "Its thoughts are garbled at best, and incomprehensible most of the time. It behaves more akin to a wild beast with emotional flare ups more than anything. I'll need to keep it properly contained for a prolonged period of time in order to extract the knowledge it has amassed."

"Any ideas on that front?" I asked him, curious.

"Some," he said. "As insane as it is, it's still dangerous. The biggest issue is extracting the soul without further damaging it and finding a way to contain it."

"Why do we need to extract the soul at all?" I asked him. "Can't we just chop off his limbs and cut out his tongue?"

"It can still cast wandless," Tom said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Not as… efficiently and it does not always work, but it's something to keep in mind. As long as it inhabits a body, it can be a threat."

"And we can't put him—it, I mean it, please stop glaring Tom—in an anti-magic chamber because you need magic to extract the information," I said.

"Correct."

I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet as another thought occurred to me. "And you're certain Vo—it thinks you're Harry?"

Tom glowered at me. "Do you think it can outwith me?"

I held up my hands. "Darling, I know you're the cleverest wizard out there, but it's always best to be prepared for different outcomes. You're the one that pointed that out to me—it's why I got a second wand. Do you disagree?"

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Fine." He shifted his weight to lean back. "What did I—? Oh, right. I've been sifting through some of its memories. Would you like to know what I've found?"

"Yes please! Like what's going on with Rookwood," I said, hopping onto the table to sit next to Tom.

"Him? Last year Rookwood was doing research into the Department of Mysteries. This year he's focused on developing spells for it to use in its pathetic state. I found out what the weapon was," casually said Tom, although his lips curled back into a sneer at the word weapon. "The weapon as described by the Order turned out to be a couple of prophecies. Disappointing, but I should have known given how far its mind has already degraded. Of course it'd believe in bullshit."

I blinked. "I'm sorry, back up. Couple?"

"Yes. Couple, as in two," dismissed Tom, exasperated by the (perceived) sheer stupidity of his counterpart. "It's obsessed with finding them. I assume one for you and the other for Harry. Certainly explains why it's adamant about murdering you two."

"I know about Harry's prophecy," I said slowly, "but you said two. I know for a fact that there was originally only one prophecy made."

"Yes. Then Rookwood found another during his investigation," explained Tom. "After he escaped Azkaban, he went to Sweden for some medical treatment, then returned to find that decaying carcass. Rookwood was an Unspeakable and that stupid thing sent Rookwood to begin investigating the Department of Mysteries. It found out about the second prophecy shortly after the tournament concluded and so it became determined to obtain both of them."

"Wow," I whispered.

Tom peered at me. "I know that look. You want to know what it is."

"I do. I so do."

Tom smiled charmingly. "That would involve breaking into the Department of Mysteries, my dear."

"Yeah," I sighed dreamily. "What a heist."

Tom turned to face me entirely, his irritation draining away the longer he looked at me. His eyes danced with mischief and malice. In the warmest, sweetest, tempting voice he purred, "Rosie… my dear..."

Oh he so wants something.

But I was always down for shenanigans so I brightly asked, "What do you want?"

He held out a hand for me, his smile curled into something vicious. "Care to be a part of one of my schemes?"

I accepted his hand. "Hell yes. What do you have in mind?"

"We'll steal the prophecies then when we're prepared to contain that walking corpse I'll use the prophecies as bait and feed it false memories to lead it to our trap," said Tom.

I nodded, impressed by what it would entail. It would require Tom to pull off one hell of a lie to Voldemort. Not only would he have to perfectly build false memories, but he'd have to seamlessly send them to Voldemort in such a way that Voldemort was convinced it'd come from Harry. I didn't think I could ever do such a thing, let alone have the confidence to plan for it.

Given how insane Voldemort was, Tom's plan wasn't even a guarantee—

As if sensing my thoughts, Tom added, "Even if it doesn't come itself and only sends Death Eaters, that'd be fewer Death Eaters in its army."

"Very true," I agreed with a smile. "All right. I'll leave the planning to you, then. Uh, please try not to schedule it during my O.W.L.s."

Tom inclined his head. "If you insist."

"I'm going to need my beauty sleep to beat your scores."

Tom shook his head in amusement. "You can't beat what was already perfect."

"Watch me."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

January passed by in a blur of homework and ritual drafts. February was warm, wet, and most importantly: had a full moon that landed on a weekend.

Which meant that on February 4th (a Sunday) I could finally try out my ritual to create a worgen.

I originally believed to perfect the lycanthrope curse (operating off the belief it was a botched dark ritual using fossils of canis dirus) I would need more fossils of the dire wolf. But once I truly began to study rituals and Dark magic I realized that was a misconception. I had already done considerable work in completing the curse through my potions work, now I had to build on that.

Once I had a decent grasp of the subjects, the rest came slowly. My math wasn't on par with Tom's, but it was enough for me to get my point across. Tom was gracious enough to correct me in some areas and help steer my thought processes when I threatened to spiral down a wrong path.

Rituals.

Rituals was a type of magic that used ingredients to create exceptionally powerful spells. Tye type of spells that one wizard and one wand simply could not perform. Oddly, creating and using rituals was kind of like baking a cake. The runes were the cake pan, the ingredients the—er—ingredients, and the caster the chef. With the right cake pan one could form all sorts of neat designs that would hold the batter until baked, and the ingredients changed everything about the cake. The chef watched over the cake to make sure it didn't over cook or come out with a soggy bottom.

Of course there were some exceptions and it wasn't so cut and dry, but the process reminded me an awful lot like baking. More so than Potions. Potions was chemistry written by a poet; ritual crafting was baking with extremely dangerous ingredients and you had a solid chance of the oven exploding in your face even if everything was done correctly.

I had believed I would need a lot more canis dirus fossils than whatever the original ritual called for, but no. The canis dirus fossil was like the baking soda in this cake—really did not need to add more than what the original recipes calls for. Unless you wanted an exploding cake.

In my case, it'd be an exploding ritual that'd probably kill me or worse.

One piece was all I needed, and a piece was easily obtained. The size did not even matter. I actually bought the skull of a canis dirus from a retiring professor in Johannesburg. Nice fella. Felt nice to not have to steal from such a stand-up person and instead contribute to his retirement plans.

I did not know what the original ritual was, or what else they used, because it did not matter.

I would be overwriting the magic with my own.

February 3rd—the day before the true full moon—I spent my entire Saturday prepping my basement for the ritual. It took me hours to perfectly draw the runes—Tom looked them over—and several more hours to prepare the ingredients.

But come February 4th it was finally time.

Unfortunately an hour before Fenrir showed up at my home Tom's body said nope and promptly dissolved into ash. His soul returned to me.

I could feel him pout. He was clearly unhappy that his body expired before his calculations. I couldn't resist laughing as I swept up his ashes.

"Hahahaha. Your pouting is adorable."

"It is not."

"I assure you: it is."

Tom sighed. "At least we'll be able to use the binder next time."

"I love you, but you're gonna have to wait until tomorrow night for a new body."

"Understandable."

In the late afternoon Fenrir nervously entered the basement, eyeing the ritual apprehensively. He swallowed roughly, "That looks… big."

It was big. It took up my entire basement floor. I'd have to levitate Fenrir into the center of the ritual so he wouldn't accidentally smear any of the magical chalk. The grizzled werewolf scratched at his chin as he continued to stare at the arcane runes.

"It is," I agreed. "You can still back out."

"No… this is i', right?" he asked. "E'erything yeh've done… this is it."

"It should be," I said. "When you're ready, we'll get started."

Fenrir licked his lips. "It'll—it'll ta'e—er—'ow long?"

"Several hours," I patiently explained, offering Fenrir a supportive smile. "I'll knock you out before we start so you shouldn't feel any pain."

"Right, right…"

"We can't start any later than sundown. So… let me know whenever you're ready," I said.

"Let's do it," said Fenrir. "I'm ready."

I offered Fenrir a moderate sleeping potion, to which he chugged with a grimace. Before his unconscious body fell to the floor, I caught him with a Wingardium Leviosa and levitated him to the center of the ritual. I sat down on the outskirts, placing both of my palms flat on the floor.

"Incipio," I chanted, the runes coming to life.

"Good luck," said Tom. "Although you won't need it."

I smiled.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Fenrir Greyback opened his eyes to a dimly lit basement. He sat up sharply, instantly alert. "Rosie?"

"'M here," I responded tiredly.

Every inch of my body ached in a way that was eerily similar to the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse. I was drained; mentally, physically, and magically. Weakness set into my limbs making it difficult to even form a fist, let alone stand up. The moment the ritual was completed, I had collapsed face down onto the floor. I still laid on my belly, too exhausted to do anything but turn my head.

Fenrir hesitantly stood up, patting at himself. "Er—I feel—er—you 'kay?"

"M'fine, howwwdoyoufeel?" I asked, unintentionally slurring my words. Even my tongue was tired! Ugh.

Fenrir's brow was furrowed as he considered my question. "F-Fine? Did it—er—work?"

"I dunno. Let'sssssss find out?" I yawned, then winced. "Sorry."

Fenrir grinned. "Want a lift?"

"Please…"

The runes had disappeared throughout the ritual, leaving not a single trace of chalk on the floor. The werewolf moved quickly to my side, then bent down and carefully picked me up.

"Don' feel wea' 'least," observed Fenrir. "Usually kin'a tired 'fore the moon comes up."

I mumbled something along the lines of that's nice but I slurred it so much it came out as snice.

We headed up the steps. The basement's door was in the kitchen. As soon as we exited the basement, Fenrir's brow furrowed again. He stared intently at the windows, a hard frown on his face as he realized that it was dark outside. He shifted his hold on me in his arms, wordlessly heading out the front door.

When we stepped out, Fenrir Greyback looked up at the full moon.

He gaped. "I ain't—I ain't transformin'!"

"Not unless you wanna," I mumbled tiredly.

"How—how—do I?"

"I've no idea," I told him. "It's'pposed to be all natural."

Fenrir's expression twisted as he thought. "Natural? Ehh… I feel… ehhh…"

Gently, he sat me down on the step in front of my door. He helped prop me up so I could lean against my front door, then once certain I wasn't going to fall over he took a few steps back. He stared hard at his hands, clenching then relaxing them. He did that for a couple of minutes, marveling at how they stayed human under the moonlight.

Fenrir looked back up at the full moon—it was midnight judging by the position—and let out a long, steady breath. "Okay…"

He flexed his entire body and in between one second and the next he had transformed. Long, thick, silver fur sprouted out of his skin as he simultaneously grew in size and stature.

The original lycanthrope curse caused a temporary mutation of cells. The human body fused with dire wolf DNA to create an odd amalgamation of man and wolf. Werewolves retained a lot of their human features—simply brushed over with a wolfish tone. They did not gain much muscle so they normally remained at the same height and body type as their human form.

That was not the case with this transformation.

Fenrir stood well over seven feet tall, his shoulders noticeably broader, and limbs wrapped heavily in magically conjured thick muscle. His clawed hand was bigger than my face, and his tail lazily swayed side to side. The change from an average sized man to a behemoth was jaw-dropping. Or at least it would be if I wasn't so exhausted.

The head was the biggest transformation. Werewolves previously had a mixture of human and wolf features, but their human faces were still distinct enough to distinguish them. Now he had the proper head of a monstrous wolf, beefed up to match his massive size.

I whistled at the drastic transformation.

Worgen.

I had successfully transformed a werewolf… to a worgen. After years of work and effort… it finally paid off. I sniffled, a surge of pride and self-satisfaction blooming inside my heart.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. You were a huge help."

"Only in expediting the inevitable. Don't humble yourself too much."

Fenrir stared down at his claws in amazement, then said, "It's—whoa! I can tal'?!"

He only opened his mouth once when he spoke but still his words flowed out of him as if he were talking in his human form. His voice was much lower than before and had an underlying growl to it, but it was distinguishable enough to understand.

"You shhhoouuld be able to turn back assssss well," I told him.

Fenrir cocked his head, a big bushy tail waving behind him as he thought.

Then he flexed again and the human Fenrir stared at me in amazement.

"It didn' 'urt! It didn' 'urt or nothin'," he babbled in wonder. "Yeh did it! YEH DID IT!"

"Test's not over," I reminded him then yawned again. "Gotta make sssssure you can do it in sunlight, too. And that your sssaa—saaaliva isn't contagious 'less you're actively tryin' to spread it."

"Do the others—do they all nee' teh do the ritual too?" asked Fenrir excitedly.

"Shouldn't. Your version of the curse should be the dominant version."—another yawn— "If you spread it to the others, it should overwrite their version," I said. "But I can't guarantee it'll be a smooooooooth process."

"This is—this is—" Fenrir was at a loss for words, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I ne'er… I ne'er thought I'd see the day… No pain, no hunger… complete control. Yeh…"

Fenrir swooped down, picking up and squeezing me tightly as he twirled around.

"Rosie! 'Ow can I ever than' yeh?" he asked me. "Yeh've given me so much. I—I dunno wha' teh say or do. Yeh e'er need anything—anything—yeh say the wor'. Yeh say it and I'll ma'e it happen. Ha! Hahahaha!"

So full of joy, Fenrir Greyback threw back his head and laughed with all of his might. Still holding me in his arms, he transformed into his fluffy self and howled his delight to the moon.

Naturally, since this was a werewolf village he was immediately joined by a chorus of howls that woke everyone up. Hundreds of werewolf howls echoed throughout the streets, along with some amused human howls. Once the symphony started it was really for the best to embrace the howl fest. It wasn't going to let up any time soon.

Ah. What the hell.

I decided to howl with them, throwing a fist up in the air as Fenrir tossed me.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

The ritual was a success.

I had to go to class on Monday, but when I stopped by in the evening, Fenrir had proudly shown me his daylight transformations.

And he confirmed with me he was okay to spread it to anyone who wanted it.

I said hell yes, and by Tuesday night my entire fluff population had been transformed from werewolves to worgens.

To make my Tuesday night even better I did another ritual for Tom's new body—using Umbridge's dying breath—and Tom gave me special kisses as congratulations.

Best. Night. Ever.

Felt like such a shame I had to go back to Hogwarts and prep for classes and O.W.L.s but that was how life worked out.

Oh, and my fluff babehs were discussing making the day a holiday in honor of me and what I had done for them. They were arguing over the name and how it should be celebrated. Adults wanted booze. The families wanted to keep it below PG. There was some drama going on.

A lot of them also wanted to personally thank me, but I wasn't ready to reveal my true identity to everyone so they had to make do with adorable thank you cards and yummy chocolates.

I made the mistake of bragging to Tom I might end up getting more Valentine's chocolates than he ever did (out of gratitude for my fluff babehs).

He destroyed all my chocolate with a loving smile on his face.

It was extremely conflicting to be simultaneously furious with him and really turned on.

Ah… hormones. Or maybe my budding kinks were getting out of hand. Oh well.

He then set up a chocolate fountain for us on Valentine's Day and all was forgiven. Especially after I "accidentally" bumped him into it so he was covered in chocolate and needed my help to clean up.

What a great day.

Despite how awesome February was it tragically ended when March waltzed into our lives and the professors decided to ramp up our work load for O.W.L. prep. I lost all of my free time during the weekdays. I spent my evenings studying with the lions and snakes. Saturdays we did our homework, studied some more, and didn't finish until nearly midnight.

Only Sundays did I have an opportunity to sneak out to visit Tom, and thanks to the workload I was too tired to do much else than spend time with him.

Tom was gracious and supportive about it, even offering to help me study.

Obviously I refused. Accepting his help on O.W.L.s would be like admitting defeat already.

Somehow, someway, I was going to beat his perfect scores.

If I couldn't beat him at chess—we kept tying! Goodbye my chess master legacy—therefore I had to defeat him academically. My pride was on the line.

In March, I buckled down. I utilized years of obsessive study tactics I honed to test early into medical school. Flash cards, comprehensive essays, random pop quizzes, and late nights practicing made the entire month blur by. The only time I wasn't studying was when I did morning exercises (running or tennis), or enjoying my Sundays with Tom.

Studying became my life through March and well into April.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Finally, O.W.L.s had descended upon us.

We received our examination schedules and details of the procedure for O.W.L.s during our next Potions lesson.

"As you can see," drawled Professor Snape as we copied down the dates and times of our exams from the blackboard, "your O.W.L.s are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory exams in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night."

Professor Snape swept across the room. "I am supposed to warn you in detail about how the exam has increased its defense against cheating and list all the ways you'll get caught. I won't. If any of you get caught cheating I'll see to it you're expelled and expunge your presence from our House."

Professor Snape fixed each one of us with a stern glare to fully convey his point.

I beamed at him, excited to finally get the testing out of the way.

Our first exam, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning.

Sunday night I lounged at Lunar's Orchid with Tom, enjoying a lovely dinner among other things before heading back to get some rest. Although I went back early, I wasn't able to fall asleep until closer to midnight.

None of the fifth years talked very much at breakfast the next day, and all of my snakes were looking exhausted. Daphne's hair was thrown into a messy bun and she did not even put eyeliner on, Draco was unhealthily pale, Blaise kept fussing with his hair, Pansy threw up twice, Vincent kept running into walls, Millie cried when she accidentally spilled pumpkin juice, Gregory tripped over nothing several times, Tracey kept staring off into space, and Theodore—

Theodore—?

Looking around at breakfast I found that Theodore was sitting at the Gryffindor table and trying to coax a frazzled Hermione into eating. Awww.

Harry caught my gaze and mouthed, Hugs?

I grinned and headed over to the table to give my twin support hugs and forehead kisses.

Once breakfast was over, the fifth and seventh years milled around in the entrance hall while the other students went off to lessons. Then, at half-past nine, we were called forward class by class to reenter the Great Hall, where the new desks had been placed around the hall with a noticeable distance between each one. Each of the desks faced the staff-table at the end of the hall.

When everyone was seated Professor McGonagall stood before us and said, "You may begin."

She turned over an enormous hourglass on the desk beside her, and off I went.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Everything was going well.

On Thursday, my opportunity to surpass Tom's perfect score had arrived. I would finally have my O.W.L. exam for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Canonically, I knew Harry had the potential to get that coveted little asterisk mark next to his O as bonus points for his Patronus.

Tom landed O's all the way through his O.W.L.s, but surely he did not even know about the beautiful asterisk. How could he? It wasn't common knowledge—indeed, I had only read about it through the fandom and confirmed it with Dumbledore earlier that year who also assured me that there had been less than a hundred students to earn asterisks during the entire history of Hogwarts.

No way, no way, would Tom Riddle have been able to achieve such a thing. The odds were too stacked against him. This was my chance. My moment!

And so after flawlessly performing the basic charms I was elated when I heard the examiner say, "Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Potter...unless… "

Professor Tofty the examiner leaned forward expectantly.

"I heard, from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point...?"

My cheeks started to hurt, I was smiling so wide.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The silver fox shot out of my wand and Professor Tofty clapped excitedly.

Victory is MINE!

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Bonus (sleep deprived Rosie part one):

"What would you do if I was kidnapped?"

"What would I do—" Tom fell silent at the question. We were seated on the love seat. Tom had stretched out his legs onto the ottoman and was reading one of the books from the Mythago Wood series. My own legs were sprawled into his lap while I alternated between daydreaming and mentally planned for upcoming heists. Tom was deliciously warm and the love seat was irresistibly comfy. Listening to that fire crackle and smelling the cherrywood smoke—

It was really hard not to fall asleep. Frankly, I think I might have actually dozed for a brief bit considering how increasingly absurd some of my daydreams were getting. One half-dazed thought led to another until the question popped in my head and slipped out.

Tom lowered his book. "Depends."

"On what?"

"A lot of things. How do I know you were kidnapped? Do I know who kidnapped you and their motives? Am I certain that you cannot rescue yourself?" Tom ticked off, raising a finger for each point.

"Um." Since the question snuck out while I was half-dozing I hadn't anticipated him to seriously consider it. After another moment of thought, I carried on. "Y-You saw me get kidnapped?"

"I saw you but I did not stop it?" He shrewdly questioned, his brow furrowed. "Why?"

"They—er—they got us with a gas bomb? It made you sleepy—er—" I tried to think quickly to carry on with the scenario. "We were gassed. Dulled your reaction, and they got away with me before you could completely stop them."

"How did they get away?"

"Apparating."

"Do we know them?"

"Nope."

"Then why would they target us?" he questioned, shaking his head.

I didn't know how to answer right away. "I am not awake enough to give you a proper role-play experience, I'm sorry."

"Go back to sleep, Rosie."

"I," I said with an air of great importance, "would stop at nothing to rescue you."

"Mm-hmm," replied Tom. "You can rescue me in your dreams, Rosie."

"I will. You will be my prince in distress."

"Mm-hmm."

"Good night, Tom."

"Sweet dreams, Rosie."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Bonus (sleep deprived Rosie part two - switched to very shallow Third Person):

Rosie let out a soft snort, drawing Tom's attention away from his book. The witch was curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly after having finished rereading a chapter from her textbook.

Tom was seated in his favorite recliner, drinking milk tea expertly prepared by Sil. Tom had not been a fan of milk tea prior, but Sil had a way of preparing things just right.

He had to privately admit watching Rosie sleep so soundly made him sleepy. She was clearly exhausted from all the extra hours spent studying. Tom could relate. He was equally obsessive his fifth year, fanatically determined to score better than anyone.

"Mmmmff," mumbled Rosie.

"Mm-hmm," answered Tom. He had learned that it was best to respond to anything Rosie said in her sleep otherwise she'd get louder.

"Mmofhef?"

"Yes, quite," agreed Tom. He had no idea what he was agreeing to, but it made her smile in her sleep.

"Humphrultha. The—hmpph—ran—ran away?"

"Fascinating."

"The chickens ran away," she whispered.

"Better chase those chickens," said Tom in amusement.

"I don't know how to skate."

"You'll figure it out."

"Good. Tell Merlin I'll be home soon."

"Nope," he said.

Rosie let out a soft snort then rolled off the couch, her face smashed into the carpet and she let out an ooof.

She sat up slowly, rubbing at her nose. "Ow, ow, ow."

"Good morning, dear," greeted Tom.

"Morning darling," she said with a sheepish smile.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Bonus (sleep deprived Rosie part three):

"Fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff."

Rosie had fallen asleep on the couch again, but instead of her normal sleep talk she seemed to be repeating the same sound. Tom paused in his work to peer curiously at his girlfriend, wondering what sort of dream she was having to warrant such.

"Ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff."

Tom quietly moved to sit in front of the couch, observing Rosie's conflicted expression. Whatever she was dreaming about, she was clearly frustrated.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn."

It made her switch sounds, thought Tom, fighting back a smile.

"Fffffffffffffffffffffffuck."

Ah.

"Noooooo."

Aha. Tom placed a hand over his mouth to stifle his chuckle.

She was clearly distressed, her brow furrowed as she glared at whatever was in her dreams.

"Sauron is coming."

"Sounds dangerous," he said, popping an elbow on his leg and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "However will you escape?"

"Merfles," she whispered with great importance.

"Merfles," repeated Tom.

"It's okay," mumbled Rosie, stirring in her sleep. "Tom."

Tom raised an eyebrow. It was exceedingly rare for her to mention anyone that actually existed in her dreams. He could count on one hand the number of times she had talked about him in her sleep.

All of them were highly amusing.

"I would have your babies," she assured him.

What are you dreaming about? Tom wondered again as he tried not to laugh.

"I would let you have my babies," he said, trying very hard to keep a serious expression.

"Good. We can't let Sauron eat them. He'll get indigestion and it'll be the end of the world."

He couldn't. Tom started to laugh quite loudly which of course woke up Rosie.

She stared at him intently, clearly confused. "You're not pregnant?"

"What?" asked Tom.

She blinked once, twice, then her face lit up a bright red. "Oops. Forget I said that."

"No, no, no," said Tom with a smirk. "You're not getting away that easily, my dear."

Rosie whimpered.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Bucket List Completed:

10. Build werewolf army (possible conversion into worgens in honor of WoW? Praise be to Gilneas.)

50. Learn about ritual magic

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

I got my first published fanart for the story! I'm so dang excited. Artwork done by Melo4679_ on Instagram. Please go check out the original post to give it love.

Fanfic users will need to go to Instagram to see the picture since only ao3 & watty let's me place pictures in chapters.

The Worgen Army Shall Rise.

Rosie sleep talks when she's exhausted. Tom is amused by this.

Department of Mysteries next chapter.

Answer: Every time someone spoke a word with the letter f fireworks would magic into existence in whatever room they were in. Any time they said a word with the letter o oranges would rain down from above. And lastly, any time someone said a word with the letter x a deafening xylophone would start playing for a few seconds. Absolutely no clue if any of that would ever be possible, but I'd like it to be. :)

Question: What kind of Were Army would you like? Werewolf? Werecats? Weresnakes?

Reviews are love!