New Resolve

May 1, 1945

Tom said nothing as he removed his cloak and dropped it to the floor with a plop, the fibers clogged with water from the downpour he had spent a little over two hours brooding in. Rosemary's eyes glittered back at him through the dark loathingly and he exhaled. He was very much dreading this evening's second blow (though this time self-inflicted) to his delicate ego.

A sickening feeling settled into his stomach while his nerves crawled uncomfortably beneath his skin; only for her was he willing to submit to this torture of admitting his transgressions. "I shouldn't have said those things to you," he told her quietly. "I didn't mean them."

"I know," she sighed into the dark.

Silence fell between them. From the moment she turned away from him and Disapparated, he desperately ached for the comfort that only she could provide him. Tom knew that he wasn't forgiven for his foolish outburst– and that he probably didn't deserve to be, for that matter– but surely it would pass. What he had told her earlier couldn't be further from the truth: he did need her, now more than ever before.

Moments later found him in the bed they shared, clutching her tightly against his body. The absence of her struggle to escape him eased his overall devastation from the evening's events, though only slightly. All the planning– everything he had accomplished– was for nothing. Dumbledore had beaten him to all of it. And then of course was the duel, which he couldn't seem to shake from the forefront of his mind. What he had witnessed was the sort of magic he had believed to exist only through the exaggerated words of legends. The painful realization that he could no longer deny Albus Dumbledore's magical talents was not lost on him.

He pressed his lips to the back of her neck. "Are you still willing to help?"

"Of course." Her voice sounded tired and strained, but Tom didn't have the energy to think much of it. Rosemary was still loyal and that was all that mattered to him for the moment.

For three nights in a row, an odd dream plagued his sleep. It was nearly identical to the one he experienced two weeks prior, a conversation of sorts. What he could remember of it the following morning was, once again, exceptionally vague. He failed to decipher the faces of the two figures that were speaking; the voices, however, were strikingly familiar. Unfortunately, they seemed to be just beyond his ability to place them:

"Do you honestly expect me to believe this was all for revenge? That this was all for her?"

"In the beginning? Certainly."

Then the words would become garbled, as though he were trying to hear from underwater. But the dream would always end the way it had the first time:

"You know, I have always seen a bit of myself in you."

"We are nothing alike."

"Oh, I beg to differ. But if you insist on refusing to take my word on the matter, please allow me to demonstrate..."

Tom still hadn't a clue what any of it meant; he supposed he could consult Professor Moonfall from Divinations or read up on dream interpretation himself, but with what spare time? He had so much to do and learn before his next opportunity at exposing the truth about Dumbledore. He would not rest while the entire wizarding world stopped to praise the miserable toad for his victory.

It was everything Tom could do to try and escape it. Every time he turned around, it seemed that Dumbledore was being given a new award; his mood was especially soured when he saw a picture of Dumbledore on the front page of the Daily Prophet, shaking hands with the Minister for Magic while being presented the Order of Merlin award. There was even talk of establishing the day that Grindelwald was defeated as a bloody holiday. The worst part of all was knowing that all of this glory could have been his if he had only beaten Dumbledore there.

But no matter: he would get his glory. And more of it, too. Until then, he would just have to suffer from the humiliation – though it would be far easier if Dumbledore was not also his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

To escape from it all, Tom spent the entirety of his free time alone in the Room of Requirement. He missed Rosemary's company, but there was no longer time for distractions. Where to begin, though? In what books could he find the sort of magic he had witnessed?

One thing at a time, he kept telling himself, consulting the list he had made in his diary last summer and had continued to add to throughout the term. It ranged from learning to control Fiendfyre and Inferi to more general goals, such as discovering a way to increase the overall power delivered in each of his spells.

Tom had a few ideas for the latter, some potions and incantations he had discovered through his studies, but none of them seemed on par with the level of strength he desired. It was then, while he stared down at the words on the page of his most beloved book regarding dark arts, that the ridiculousness of what he was doing occurred to him.

If he ever hoped to be the greatest wizard of the age, even stronger than Grindelwald or Dumbledore were, he would need to extend outside the boundaries of books to find what he was looking for. How was he supposed to get anywhere if he simply relied on the written word of others whose magical talents he planned to surpass?

He needed to travel and actually visit the mythical locations he had read so much about. He needed to experiment with magical items and discover their properties for himself. Why should he base his knowledge on the discoveries of previous, less capable minds? He needed to invent his own version of magic, one that would outdo all others and push the boundaries of magical power further than they had ever been pushed before.

Tom enthusiastically got to work upon this exciting realization, resting only to attend classes and eat and sleep occasionally. After a week of this admittedly reclusive behavior, however, he tore himself away from it, knowing it would be unwise for him to neglect his loyal followers for long. Or Rosemary, for that matter.

He caught her by the hand in the corridor after Ancient Runes on Friday and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. "A moment, Miss Horton?" He was pleased that some of his charm had found its way back into his voice over the last couple of days.

"Yes, Tom?" she answered in deceptive sweetness, the undertones of her voice laced with irritation. He assumed it was because she was feeling ignored given his recent preoccupations – surely she wasn't still angry with him over his rash actions on that terrible night. Then again, he wondered while his eyes trailed down to the enticing glimpse of cleavage that this angle afforded him, perhaps she was experiencing another type of frustration: the same frustration that had clearly been building latently within him all week, only to be realized with her in such close proximity.

He lowered his voice so the passersby wouldn't hear. "I will be calling a Knights meeting for this evening and I was hoping you might grace us all with your presence."

She smiled at him in a rather forced way and nodded. "I will be there."

"And afterward," he whispered, running his fingers down the side of her arm. "I was hoping to give you a nice, long fuck. Wouldn't you like that, Rosemary?"

"Perhaps another time," she told him crisply, stepping just out of his reach. "I haven't been feeling well lately."

"Sorry to hear," he said in a low voice, trying to hide his disbelief. Rosemary had snubbed him? That had never happened, not even when she was with Warren. She must have been feeling neglected after all – either that or playing hard to get.

"Before I forget, Adam and Faye invited us to spend the Hogsmeade trip with them tomorrow. If you are too busy to go, I will plan to go on my own."

"I'll be there," he replied instantly, though he had originally planned to skip the first and last Hogsmeade trip of the year. There. Surely that would win him some points – maybe even enough to change her mind about 'not feeling well'.

"Very well," she pursed her lips and turned away, leaving him as perplexed as ever.

"Grindelwald's Defeat Restores Peace to Wizarding World," he read the featured Daily Prophet headline aloud to them later that evening. "Tell me, my friends: what do you think of this?"

"It's complete shit," Lestrange snorted.

Tom smirked. "Precisely. Do not believe this propaganda," he urged them, setting the newspaper on fire with the tip of his wand, "Grindelwald may be out of the way, but let us not forget our true goals. We must press on."

At least he didn't have to worry about dealing with such passively irritated behavior from the Knights; they wouldn't dare to dismiss him as Rosemary had. He watched her leave as soon as the meeting adjourned and in his prideful reluctance to bend over backwards and plead for her forgiveness, he stayed in the Slytherin common room to visit with the others far longer than usual. Surely she wasn't expecting him to make her wait – at least then she would be angry. Anything was better than the awful indifference she had dealt him earlier.

But instead of waiting up for him with a glare, Rosemary was fast asleep (or at least pretending to be) when he returned to their dormitory. It slowly dawned on him then that he had miscalculated and actually punished himself rather than her. Tom cursed as he crawled into bed beside her and found her naked, knowing he would be spending the night with a torturous, raging erection. That settled it, he thought with a sigh: she hated him.

Rosemary snuck out of bed and dressed before Tom woke up, just like she had done all week. Until his mood over the Grindelwald ordeal settled and she felt comfortable broaching the subject he clearly believed to be resolved, the best thing for her to do was avoid him. He saved her a great deal of effort in this regard given his tendency to keep to himself lately. However, that didn't keep her from wondering where he was sneaking off to. She supposed he was just doing what he needed to stay calm and collected amidst all the celebration of Dumbledore.

But Tom didn't seem depressed or devastated or even concerned since the night of the Great Duel, as it was now being referred to. In fact, he seemed to be in a better mood than he had in a long time and wasn't all that different from the Tom she knew and loved, from what she could tell through the Knights meeting and their limited interactions. But something was slightly off; he seemed more intense, somehow…a feat which she wouldn't previously have thought possible.

She watched him sleep and his angry words flooded her mind all over again:

"I have no need for you to worry about me. Nor do I need your help."

His might have thought his half-apology was enough to resolve things. But it wasn't enough – not anymore. Things were different now; after all of the things she had done to prove herself to him, it seemed that the least he could do was to stop shutting her out.

"Morning Rose," Faye settled in across from her at the Ravenclaw table that morning and considered her. "Merlin, you have got to take care of those split ends. Your hair is too gorgeous for you to let it become all ratty." For the first time in weeks, Faye was truly acting like herself.

"You seem chipper this morning," Rosemary greeted her dryly.

Faye shrugged. "I suppose I've gained a new perspective as of late."

"And that is?"

"Well, now that this ridiculous war is over, everyone will eventually forget about Grindelwald. That means Jasper will be able to come home. You see, I don't care what any of the papers say – Grindelwald's men didn't kill him. I know it. He's still out there hiding, just waiting for the right time."

Rosemary shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Faye was right about one thing: Grindelwald's men hadn't killed him. "I hope he comes home soon," she forced herself to say. "I'm sure he will."

"Yes," Faye said resolutely, which made Rose feel even worse. "Did you hear about my row with Becca?"

She nodded. Everyone had. Apparently, Rebecca Orion was far from over Markus and had finally worked up the nerve to confront Faye about his expulsion.

"Well after that, and after I realized all of this about Grindelwald and Jasper, I began feeling terribly awful for everything I said about Avery to the Ministry pricks. So much so that I couldn't sleep last night and wrote him with an apology and invitation for him to meet up with us in Hogsmeade this afternoon."

Rosemary smiled. "I'm proud of you Faye." She meant it, too; Faye was almost as bad as Tom when it came to apologies.

"Do you think he'll come? I never received a reply…"

"I'm sure. He's probably desperate to get out of the house and away from his mum."

"She's such a nag," Faye shuddered dramatically before continuing with a smile, "Anyway, I can't wait to see Adam's face – I haven't told him a thing! I invited Becca too – don't give me that look, you don't have to pretend to like her anymore. I just feel a bit obligated…apparently, just before Markus was expelled, they were considering getting back together."

Rosemary rolled her eyes; judging by Markus' promiscuous behavior after their split, she doubted that he felt the same way as Rebecca did. But regardless, Becca's company on their outing was a small price to pay. She looked forward to seeing Markus that afternoon, both because she missed him and because it afforded her another opportunity to skirt by Tom without a confrontation.

The morning post began to arrive and a gray, official-looking owl dropped a letter toward them that landed sticking straight up in Faye's porridge. "Well, maybe Markus has replied," Faye smiled while gingerly shaking her breakfast off of the envelope. "From the Office of Healer Blair Caswell McHughes…wait a moment. This is for you!"

Rosemary nodded, unable to breathe or speak. She had recognized the wax seal on the back of the letter as St. Mungo's immediately.

Oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin….

"Well what are you waiting for? Open it!" Faye demanded and tossed it across the table to Rose, clapping her hands together in excitement.

Rosemary held the slightly sticky envelope between her fingers and hesitated, wondering if she should wait for Tom. Wouldn't he be upset if she didn't?

Who cares? she snorted internally. She had put his needs first all week.

With this resolve, she hastily broke the seal with her butter knife and pulled out the parchment letter, her fingers shaking. "Tell me what it says – I can't bear to look!" she cried and tossed it back across the table to Faye, who snatched it from her impatiently.

Rose watched as her eyes scanned the page and suddenly, her friend's face fell. "What? What does it say?!"

"Well, I'm not sure how to say this…"

She suddenly felt as though she might faint and cry and die all at once.

"I'm joking Rose. Don't be an idiot – of course you got the position."

"You are bloody awful." Rosemary tried to scowl but ended up beaming instead as Faye handed her back the letter and her eyes poured over it:

Dear Miss Horton,

On behalf of Healer-in-Charge Blair C. McHughes, I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the Healer-in-Training position in the Phinney Woolsledge Potion Poisonings Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. As you likely know already, this offer is contingent on your achievement of the appropriate N.E.W.T. scores in required courses.

If you choose to accept, please sign and return the enclosed offer letter within one week.

Best regards,

Belinda Balfour

Secretary of the Office of Healer Blair C. McHughes

She smirked at the ridiculousness of the words – as if she would actually have to choose whether or not to accept; she would work for nearly free if she had to. But that apparently wasn't going to be the case, judging from the offer letter: her salary of the five-year contract was set to begin at 8,000 Galleons per year with raises upon completion of each stage of training.

Rosemary read both letters again and again, somehow unable to grasp the reality that what she had wanted so badly was finally hers. If she had a quill to sign it right then and there, she would.

"Congratulations, Rosemary," Faye grinned. "I know how badly you wanted this…for whatever reason."

"Thank you," she replied breathlessly, too elated to bother thinking up a retort for Faye's quip.

"When do you start?"

She peered at the offer letter once more. "The second of July, just after graduation."

Faye scowled. "Well, that won't do."

"What are you talking about?"

"My wedding!" the blonde cried. "As maid of honor and my dearest friend, I thought you might be a bit more invested in helping me prepare."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "I will still have time to help, Faye. How can you possibly have more to prepare, anyway? You've been planning for months!"

She sighed. "One day, when you and Tom are planning your wedding, you'll understand."

The words 'Tom' and 'wedding' in the same sentence gave her an odd feeling. It was inevitable that they would settle down, of course, but at the same time it was rather strange to think of the two of them doing something so normal as a couple. And given her hurt feelings as of late, it seemed even more outlandish to think about. Maybe it was best not to marry someone who could so easily inflict pain on her without thought.

But despite her anger, she was simply too excited to resist sharing the news with him. "Speaking of Tom, I'm going to find him," she announced.

Rosemary moved to leave and promptly froze, noticing Warren towering above her with a sneering look on his face. "Congratulations on the position, Horton."

"Thank you," she replied politely, perplexed at how he had found out already.

"For as long as it lasts, anyway." With one last sneer, he abruptly turned on his heel and headed out of the Great Hall.

"What do you think that was supposed to mean?" she asked Faye.

"Not a clue. Mary-Ann Scout was right – he has gone a bit barmy since you broke his heart," the blonde snorted in amusement. "What a shame. He was quite a catch and could have had anyone else if he had been smart enough to leave you alone. Instead, he went and picked a fight with Tom and the way that turned out for him wasn't exactly a surprise." She sighed. "Men and their egos."

"Indeed," Rosemary replied tightly, glancing in the direction that Warren had just departed. "Does anyone in his family work at St. Mungo's?" If anyone would know, it was Faye who had memorized almost every pureblood family tree.

"I believe his uncle might, on his mother's side. Starts with an 'S'…St-

"Stidolph?" Rosemary groaned.

"That sounds right."

"Perfect," she sighed, jumping up from the table to sign and send off her offer letter before Stidolph managed to convince McHughes to revoke it.

But just as she reached the Grand Staircase, Professor Thurston stopped her. "Miss Horton, I was told to inform you that you have a visitor waiting upstairs in Headmaster Dippet's office."

"Who?"

Please don't be Stidolph or McHughes or anyone from St. Mungo's. Anyone but them.

Professor Thurston smiled obliviously, as though Rosemary would be delighted to hear the news: "Your father."

"Panic and terror aren't the only kinds of fear. There are deeper kinds, more terrible kinds. Apprehension and heavy, heavy dread." ― Veronica Roth

Hi all! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed last chapter: RosiePosie15, MissVolturiKingsFan, x2leoj, calhounariel97, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, Oksanallex, Lady Ravanna, Charlotte Blackwood, Skydoll, marly4077, ecl123, and three guest users!

Also, congrats to gr8rockstarrox, who won the quarterly drawing for reviewing TDLR and Charlotte Blackwood's stories, "Unknowns" and "Craving Comfort"!

This is a two-part chapter and I'll be updating again either Saturday or Sunday morning! :D