Oneshot. u.e. A/N: The French and co is from Google Translate.
Hibiscus wanted to rip her hair out when the owl delivering the Daily Prophet arrived.
BREAKING NEWS ON HIBISCUS LILY POTTER
By Esteemed Journalist Rita Skeeter
Ladies and gentlemen, Hibiscus Lily Potter, formerly known as our Girl-Who-Lived or The Chosen One before signing of the Treaty of Peace in 1996, was seen in the Ministry of Magic on October 13, 2002! Yes, folks - it seems that our war hero, Miss Potter, has finally been found!
-After facing dangers for five years, Miss Potter brought peace to Wizarding Britain by wedding her soulmate, known as none other than Minister Riddle himself!
Minister Riddle (1998 onwards), formerly Professor Riddle, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1996-1998) and known as the Dark Lord, along with various other titles, signed the Treaty of Peace in 1996, for an end to the war in Britain in exchange for Miss Potter's hand in marriage.
However, after her graduation in 1998, Miss Potter vanished from the Wizarding World without a trace. Little over four years later, however, Miss Potter was seen as part of an envoy from the French Ministry to introduce her new position to the British Ministry of Magic!
After going into deeper research, I have discovered that Miss Potter left for France and completed her Auror training in a record time of 2 of the expected 3 years! Miss Potter then rapidly rose through the ranks, becoming an extremely accomplished Auror with a perfect case record.
But that is not all, folks - Miss Potter was promoted to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the French Ministry of Magic precisely a week ago, becoming the youngest Head of that Department in history worldwide at the age of twenty-one!
Hibiscus stopped reading at that. She'd made sure to painstakingly and completely obliterate her trail when she'd left her home country. Trust Shacklebolt to announce it to the world even when he'd said they had an agreement when she'd visited British Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which she'd put last on her list from all the countries they'd had to go to. She was going to kill him; painfully, slowly, for destroying the work she'd done in the past four years.
Four years of freedom, of peace. Of safety and comfort. Of no reporters jumping and swarming her each time she stepped outside, of no friends and family to poison her with their words. Of no Tom, but that was okay... or maybe not... especially when she kept her wedding ring on her finger. It was better for her, better for them; they'd even told her so.
Someone must have seen me, she thought, then suppressed a snort. Of course they'd seen her - she'd flounced right in front of their very noses when she Portkeyed to the British Ministry of Magic's entrance with her guards and strolled through the very halls she'd once broken into to save the ungrateful public to introduce herself as the new fellow Head of Magical Law Enforcement to that ponce, as they'd finally made publicised six hours ago.
Hibiscus sighed as she tossed the newspaper into her bin; it was four in the afternoon, and she still had two hours to go, but the blasted Prophet was now troubling her along with running an entire Department.
She bent over her paperwork again - one of the perks of being Head she should have realized. Only to be interrupted almost immediately.
"Mlle Potter! Le ministre britannique de la magie est arrivé pour vous féliciter personnellement pour votre nouveau poste!" her assistant flirtily giggled as she poked her head in her office. ('Miss Potter! The British Minister of Magic has arrived to personally congratulate you on your new position.')
ibiscus paled.
She did not say that.
No.
Way.
Clear your mind, mask your face, bite down on your tongue, keep yourself clean - I do not want to be seen in public with a disgrace- You're not there anymore, Hibiscus told herself firmly. You're safe here, and he can't get to you, even if his mantra still plays in your head every day and he's standing outside your door.
Slightly shakily gathering herself together, she forced down the memories which still panged her heart slightly and forced herself to walk to the door. Unconsciously taking a deep breath, opened it.
The sight of him would have tumbled over any person in her shoes, but she was not Head of a Department, fancy French one or not, for nothing. She was a professional at hiding her feelings - still, she couldn't help the slight, wary twitch of her hand to, to her embarrassment, her wand pocket.
Tom was as handsome as ever, with barely a difference from his charming sixteen-year-old self from the diary back in her second year. His dark hair fell elegantly over his forehead, and his aristocratic features still smooth and chiseled and defined as ever, his robes immaculate and his posture elegant and lazily radiating exceeding power - although she noticed a tense clench in his jaw.
But it was his eyes she forced herself to calmly meet first, and they were more stormy than anything she'd ever seen; pools of piercing dark blue boring into her own and fixed on her so intently that she knew he'd even missed her hand's movement - although, admittedly, she'd toned it down to just a flicker of her fingers before her wand was in her hand, and he would only have caught a barely-there blur of her index.
"Good afternoon, Minister," Hibiscus politely said after a moment, more proud of herself for keeping her tone steady than she'd like to admit. She would have thrown away just about her entire inheritance in Gringotts to not say it, but she had to.
"Would you like to come in?"
Tom's lips were tightly pressed into a thin line.
"Of course."
She stepped inside and motioned him to do the same, then - internally very reluctantly - closed the door.
It was a mistake.
The second she did so, his hands were on her waist and gripped her so tightly she'd probably bruise as he spun her around and his fingers moved to hold her face to his.
Hibiscus instantly pivoted sharply, her right foot driving sharply into the arch of his own, her left hand wandlessly and nonverbally flicking to blast him across the room and her right hand an inch from her wand before Tom's magic pinned her in place so forcefully that she knew she wouldn't be able to move even if she'd tried; she should have remembered that he had once been a Dark Lord who had disposed of more than one Head of Department with merely a flick of his wand.
"Why did you do it?" he breathed, his breath fanning across her lips as he pressed his body to hers. "Why didn't you ever come back, even once, to just let me know that you weren't dead? I spent every single f***ing day of the past years searching for you, and here you are - frolicking in the French Ministry of bimbos while I tear apart every single record there is."
And there it was - the old insecurities, the doubt of whether she was doing the right thing, the pain and the hurt and the punch to the gut that she shoved down forcefully.
"Are you quite done?" Hibiscus coolly asked, with an intentional lack of emotion and a fair amount of coldness. She was surprised when Tom visibly flinched as if she'd slapped him. "There might have been a very good reason why I made sure to not leave traces for the whole of Wizarding Britain, much less for a single person."
Hibiscus was slightly thrown off guard again when hurt pierced Tom's deep blue eyes at the lack of reference to him; once, she might have found it something he jolly well deserved; once, she might have believed it. But she knew better now; oh, so much better. She wouldn't be fooled again.
"I could barely sleep for the past four years, not knowing where you were, if- if you were alive, if you were safe, if you were happy- happy without me-" he whispered, his adam's apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed.
"Am I to believe you cared about me, Minster?" Hibiscus arched an eyebrow dryly, uncaring of the unprofessionally amused tone in her voice; he was meant to be the most professional of the two, both before and now, although he wasn't then and he wasn't now either… She subtly exhaled slowly as the lines in Tom's mouth wavered slightly.
Remember, Hibiscus. Remember why you left. Remember how he might as well as have single-handedly destroyed your life.
"I care for you, Hibiscus," he breathed. She had to refrain from starting slightly when he said her name for the first time in ten years; as much of whatever he was to her, he was honest, and hadn't toyed around with her at least. But who was he kidding?
He can't know, she suddenly panicked on the inside. He couldn't - he couldn't… could he?
"You've always been a good manipulator. You'd have made your noble ancestor very proud, Riddle," Hibiscus forced between clenched teeth.
Could he know?
She had to make an enormous effort to reign in the impulse to gently hold his hand when he recoiled as if she'd punched him in the gut (like she had wanted to so, so many times… before). She'd been sure it would have finally tripped him slightly, made him raise an elegant brow or make his lips twitch ever so slightly…
Could he know that she once loved him?
Hibiscus internally cringed. At least he hasn't gone into the next stage of teasing, of making fun of her, of embarrassing her in front of the whole school-
She forcefully shut her mind down. It never did any good, anyways; all she could remember before France between the brief coloured paintings in her memories were the dominant black-and-white scenes when she'd face the world with her chin held high even and her back straight as the bile and bitterness and betrayal rose in her throat and collapse into big, shaking, soundless gasps between her dry sobs later in her well-warded dormitory.
Vous êtes en France, Hibiscus. Vous êtes en sécurité ici. Rien ne pourra ou ne vous blessera à nouveau. Je suis là pour toi. Toujours. Je promets, Fleur's voice echoed in her mind. Tonjours. Je promets. (You are in France, Hibiscus. You are safe here. Nothing can or will hurt you again. I'm here for you. Always. I promise. Always. I promise.)
Tonjours. Je promets. (Always. I promise.)
"I -I, I'm sorry, Hibiscus," Tom whispered, his eyes glinting strangely. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry, Hibiscus," Ron had said to her before he slammed the compartment door shut on her first ride to Hogwarts. "But I'm not going to be friends with the wrong sort who talk to bloody slimy snakes!"
"I'm sorry, Hibiscus," Malfoy had said to her on her first day in class when she'd brightly greeted him. "But I'm not going to be friends with filthy halfblood Gryffindors."
"I'm sorry, Hibiscus," Remus had said with a final cold look. "But I never took you for a fool, much less a traitor. He murdered Lily and James, Hibiscus - Lily and James! And Sirius- You shouldn't have agreed to the treaty."
I'm sorry, Hibiscus. I'm sorry, I'm sorry-
Hibiscus finally felt herself slip as she let go a strangled sort of mix between a choke and a gasp as she flinched, although not by much; his magic trapped her and his arms still pinned her own to her sides and his hands and eyes were locked on her face, but the action and the sound was clearly visible.
Could he know that she still loved him; she'd never stopped, and probably never will-
"Unless if you have any business to do here other than trying to insult me again, Minister, I'm afraid you should leave now," Hibiscus coldly said, pain stabbing her in the chest.
He won't mind, silly girl. He never has and never will. How many times must you tell this to yourself?
"Insult you again?" Tom asked, his emotions flickering across his eyes faster than she could interpret them.
"Indeed, Professor." And Hibiscus couldn't stop the sudden violent and instinctive jerk her fingers made as they slipped to her throat, where Tom had once violently seized at the Ministry in her fifth year, where the Glamour dropped to reveal the soulmark, Avada Kedavra splayed out on display in poisonous green ink and beautiful looping, elegant handwriting that she'd stared at and traced for far too long and far too many times.
She watched in bitterness, despair and resignation as Tom's eyes followed the movement.
She'd lost his game.
Again.
"Oh - Hibiscus, I-" his voice cracked. "I'm so sorry."
Hibiscus stared in disbelief as Tom's eyes began shimmering brighter, as his Adam's apple bobbed wilder - she squashed the foolish urge to softly stroke it - and his head lowered as a tear fell onto her nose.
She cursed herself to hell and back as her arm moved of its own accord and she very slowly shakily touched his chin, tilting it up gently and used her other hand's forefinger to lightly brush against the corner of his eyes.
Tom's gaze snapped up to her, and she flinched again, trying to brace herself against the heart-clenching smugness of his smirk that she had missed and the gleam of victory and triumph as he trampled over her again.
What she saw made her do a double take.
His eyes had widened in surprise, then he closed them and leaned forward ever-so-slightly into her touch. They opened again to reveal the beautiful, bottomless and entrancing blue orbs she could stare into forever until the end of time, as saltwater freely dripped onto her cheeks.
Was Tom - was Tom - crying?
She'd seen him effortlessly manipulate Ginny and Dippet and the entire world, with fake, warm smiles and nice laughs that she despised because it wasn't the real him and because she should have hated the real him. She'd heard him shriek in true fury as she used the Portkey to escape, and his real, slightly wild, yet nonetheless absolutely breathtaking, laugh of total carefree and abandon that she'd give her arm for to hear again.
But never - ever - had she seen him cry, in his acting career and much less based on his actual feelings.
He's manipulating you again.
But Hibiscus couldn't help herself from hesitating for a moment, before whispering.
"Tom?"
And as she shakily cupped his face in both of her hands and gently wiped away his tears with her fingertips grazing his cheekbones, he gazed at her with such an intensely sorrowful and sad and guilt-laden stare that she knew she'd been right when she tried to tell Remus that Tom could feel and he wasn't a monster, because she'd loved him all along and still did with every fibre in her heart.
"It's okay, Tom," she hesitated again, before she recklessly - but also firmly - went with her intent. She leaned up on tip-toes - she still hadn't grown past his chin - and gently pulled his face down slightly as she pressed her lips softly against his forehead for the most fleeting of moments, before she released him and her arms hung limply by her side. She could almost hear his smug voice, the sneering of the Slytherins and the hateful jeers of her housemates.
'Detention, Miss Potter. Fifty points from Gryffindor.'
But as she looked at him now, his shoulders suddenly violently shook and then he was letting out small, gasping and dry sobs, so similar to her own but gut-wrenching in a way hers had never and will never be to in her eyes, because she still loved him more than life itself.
"I don't deserve you, Hibiscus," he softly whispered, still shaking. "But I- I wish for you all the same."
Hibiscus froze as she lost herself in his breathtaking eyes and smooth voice which spoke of the coldness of ice and snow and sleet and storms.
"I'm sorry for killing your parents and trying to take your life on All Hallows Eve, because I don't know where I'd be in a world without you."
Tom's long, elegant finger traced the old lightning bolt with the lightest touch.
"I'm sorry for trying to kill you all these years; for so crudely rejecting your offer of peace back when you so bravely faced Quirrell, for making a twelve-year-old girl face a thousand year old basilisk all by herself, for -" Tom's voice shook. "-torturing you against the headstone."
"I'm sorry for plaguing you with all your nightmares about the Department of Mysteries - for killing your godfather."
His tone cracked. "I'm sorry for forcing you into a position where the public demanded you marry me."
"I'm sorry for calling out on you in class, for turning your house against you. I'm sorry I picked on you for the whole time I spent teaching you, for humiliating you. I'm - I'm sorry for brutally shooting down every single attempt you made at making peace with me."
"I'm sorry for blowing at you that night. For - for saying you were with Boot, when the fidelity binding I forced you to take has never shaken once on your side, even after all these years, while I brought Bellatrix to the ball."
"I'm sorry for saying you weren't wanted here."
And then, those were the words she'd been searching for, wishing for, yet never expecting to hear, because Hibiscus had never imagined Tom would actually say them. She looked up; his eyes were averted but when she brought her hand up again this time and softly turned his head and searched for the lies she was so afraid of in his eyes, she could find none - it was all real.
It was all real.
It was all real.
And she finally let go of the already tattered mask she'd been clinging onto for so long, so hard.
"I love you," she breathed against his lips. "I love you, Tom."
Tom's gaze snapped to her so sharply that she thought he'd crick his neck; his eyes pierced into hers, scanning them intensely for an insanely long moment.
Hibiscus averted her eyes.
"It's alright, Tom. I'm really sorry I put you in that position - it's been what, four years," she laughed brokenly before realising Tom's eyes had closed, his mouth furrowed as if in pain. "Look, Tom - Tom, I'm sorry I said that - no, I'm really sorry-"
Tom's smooth lips crashed against hers in an almost desperate manner, his mouth pressing into hers and she was tasting the cross between mint and the darkest of dark chocolate, of rain and hail and the salt of his tears. He was kissing her in waves of emotion; one second she was his last, dying breath and another she was a delicate fairy and she could only fiercely kiss him back because who knew whether this would be the only chance she'd get to.
Tom released a choking cross between a sob and a moan as he pulled her body flush against his, the sound vibrating from his throat to her own, as his long fingers dug into her waist and pressed her against him, her own hands desperately clutching the hem of his now untucked shirt as she desperately tried to hang on to the rollercoaster she was riding, until Tom pulled away slightly.
Hibiscus had a heart-stopping moment of fear, before she blinked open her eyes and gazed at his brilliant and bright, bright eyes which were no longer plagued with the tinge of red she'd seen just before he bent down and kissed her. His breath fanned across her lips, and she realised she was still grasping his shirt as his hands moved to cup her face.
"Don't ever - ever - be sorry you said that. Because I let you go once, and I'll never do it again," he breathed. "Because I love you too." And she knew everything was going to be okay as he leaned in once more.
fin. Take 1 (i've never done dis before) -