Dissindere Temporalis

So here we are again!

Chapter 21, it's hard to believe, especially when I think this chapter has pushed us over the 100 Reviews and 100,000 words mark. Which is just wild to me.

Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews or just simply enjoys.

Love you all!

Enjoy!

Tempus Mutationis

"The secret of change is to focus all your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new."

- Dan Millman

VICTORIA

Victoria wasn't an exciting person.

She knew that, she expected that.

In fact she would have been very happy just living her life, knowing the things she wanted to know and ignoring anything that didn't suit her.

She was honest enough with herself to acknowledge that.

However she now knew more than she had ever expected to, or wanted to. And it left her in an awkward position.

The sensible thing to do would be to give Draco, Harry and the others a pleasant smile, bid them good day and go back to her blissfully unconcerned world.

She could do her charms in peace, read her books, practice her make-up spells and pout at the cute boys all she wanted.

She was smart enough to get away with it, she knew she could choose it.

The question was, was that actually what she wanted?

It was sensible, it was practical.

And somehow that was the problem.

She wasn't sure.

She still wasn't sure, even knowing that it was the sensible choice

She'd grown up with Kel's visions, grown up knowing that her friend saw things that scared her, that haunted her, but selfishly she'd kept herself from asking about it.

Asking meant that she was involved.

Involved was messy, she didn't want messy. But she did stick by her friends side, defend her if people were nasty and jollied her up when the shadows were a little too dark around her.

But if she was honest with herself, and she prided herself on being brutally so, she was pretty sure that she and Kel would have drifted apart at Hogwarts…

If they hadn't fallen in with their group of friends.

But they had.

And now she was.

Involved that is.

So, did she want to extricate herself? Did she want to step away, to forget what she'd heard and go back to her uncomplicated and unfazed existence?

A part of her said yes.

But it wasn't a big part.

Because they'd awoken something in her, a thirst to know things, a curiosity that she was now finding was impossible to shake.

Pricks.

Which was why she woke up, a day or two after Christmas, to floo call Ross.

Out of the whole group, the dark haired boy felt the most on the outside, the one least seduced by the ever growing feeling of 'destiny' and 'deep magic' and general problems that seemed to be growing with their group.

Plus, he was funny.

"Hey Vic," he greeted, sitting in his flannel pyjamas by the fire in his room. He seemed unbothered, which she liked, "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to chat," she paused, trying to find the words, "About how mystical our group has gotten."

Ross' golden brown eyes lit up, "Oh thank Merlin, I thought I was the only one. What is up with that? They're from the future? Tom's some Dark Lord that destroyed the world? What?"

Victoria giggled, feeling relief swell in her chest, "I know. It's wild. But weirdly… it kind of makes sense?"

Ross nodded, slowly, "Yeah, it does. But… this isn't what I signed up for. Tom's way too interested in this Coven idea…and their warnings about the future getting darker… I mean I get that they can't just let it slide…but is it really my problem?"

He winced, "That sounded worse out loud. Such an arse…"

"No… I mean, yeah, you're totally being a prig." She grinned as he stuck out his tongue, "But I understand…"

Ross sighed, running his hand through his dark curls, "I mean, I like them. Ron and that… I really do… I just never really saw myself as a save the world type."

"Neither did I…" she admitted quietly, "I was just going to go with the flow... but now… now I know what could happen. I wish I didn't…"

They sat silently, the only sound of the pop of the fire.

Then, quietly she asked the question she really wanted the answer to, "What are you going to do?"

Ross didn't look up, as he stirred the embers with his poker, a small frown on his lips.

Slowly he answered, "I'm… going to join them."

She blinked, surprised, "Really?"

"Yeah…" he sounded honestly just as surprised too, "Huh…"

"You alright there?"

He flashed her a small smile, "Yeah, sorry, I just… I realised… I never wanted this… I never dreamed of being a hero. But I know now. And I think about leaving, about abandoning them, about just forgetting… A Gryffindor doesn't abandon his friends. And…maybe this is better. I was content but… now I can be more. More than just Robins, the sub-par Gryffindor…"

His gaze met hers, and she was surprised to see he looked lighter, more relieved, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"What about you?"

She swallowed.

She wished she had an answer to him, wished it was as simple as coming to a realisation that she shouldn't be such a coward, but she wasn't a Gryffindor.

It wasn't a logical thing to do, pitting herself against the entire world.

It wasn't smart.

But… it was right.

K A R A

"Is there something wrong, pumpkin?"

Kara shook her head slightly, slipping out of her thoughts as she took in the sight of her mother sitting across the kitchen table.

She looked worried, fingers lightly stirring her cup of tea in an absent way, as she considered her daughter.

Kara forced a swift smile onto her lips and lifted her own cup to her lips for a quick sip, buying herself a moment, "No mama," she assured her, voice carefully light, "I was just thinking."

"I could see that…" Mrs Thompson pursed her lips slightly, "You've been quiet though, since you came home. Something's bothering you…"

"It's nothing…" she lied, because how could you tell your mother that four of your friends had travelled back in time to save the world, "Just a lot of homework."

"Mmmmhmmmm…" her mother's tone suggested she didn't quite believe her, and the little look over her cup as she delicately sipped, definitely confirmed it, "Is there a boy?"

Kara choked, a tiny bit of tea spluttering out of her mouth over the wooden table, making her mother's smile widen even more.

"Mama!"

"What?" her mother chuckled warmly, clearly amused by her daughters scandalised expression, "Is it so hard to believe that someone might have caught your eye?"

"Yes!" Kara waved a hand, a little theatrically she thought, clearly Draco had been more of an influence on her than she'd thought, "There's too much to do for there to be any of that…nonsense!"

Her mother pressed her lips together, clearly to keep from chuckling, "Of course pumpkin, I'm sorry. But you do usually like to talk about your friends. Like that nice Ross and Ron. And you talk a lot about that Tom…"

"That's because I thought Tom was like me." Kara sighed, "You know…non-magical."

Her mother's brows furrowed in confusion, "But you are magical."

Kara pressed a hand to her forehead, "There are some people who think people from…well people like me, aren't really magical."

Her mother shook her head, confused, "But you're a witch, you're going to school with all of them to be a witch…"

"Yes but…" Kara groaned, "It'd be like if we got a letter tomorrow that said we were heirs to some estate and title. We'd be 'new money' not as old or snobby as some of the others."

A dark look flickered over her mums face, "Kara, are kids bullying you?"

"No!" Kara quickly disavowed, but her mother's face was unconvinced, "No…no one really cares in Gryffindor."

"But people do care?" Her mother was relentless now, clearly up in arms about her baby being looked down on, "Do you want me to write to your headmaster."

"Mum!" Kara was horrified, "No! God, that would be the worst."

"Okay, but baby." Her mum reached out to touch her hand gently, "I hate the thought of you being picked on…"

"I'm not…" she assured her, touched, squeezing her hand back, "My friends support me, my House supports me. I'm not the only one… Trust me. I'm fine."

"If you say so," Mrs Thompson smiled softly, "So you thought Tom was… from a background like you?"

"Yeah," Kara thought for a moment how to explain it, "I mean he is, he grew up in London. Non-Magically."

Tom had been very hush hush about his years before Hogwarts, but she'd gathered that much.

"But…?"

"He found out this year that his mum was a witch. Descended from one of the most famous wizards in history."

"Ah…" her mother sipped her tea again, "So he did get the letter giving him a snobby title."

Kara snickered, before shaking her head, "More like if he found out he was actually a Prince, heir to a kingdom."

Mrs Thompson's eyes widened and she put her tea down, "Ah,"

"Yeah…" Kara shrugged, pretending she didn't really care, "So he's not actually like me."

Her mum's gaze was gentle, "Honey, did he stop talking to you? After he found out?"

"No?" Kara blinked, "No he just used it to make the bullies regret picking on him."

Mrs Thompson huffed triumphantly, "Bullies hmm?"

Kara groaned, "Mama, no… they didn't pick on me. Gryffindor usually has people like me. No one cared," Bit of an exaggeration but she wasn't going to tell her mother the whole truth, "But Tom was in Slytherin… and usually that House only has the blue-blooded bunch."

Her mother considered her words, before nodding, "But Tom didn't change after he found out?"

"No…" she sighed, "But I'm the only muggleborn…non-magical background one, out of my friends."

"It's good to be different, pumpkin." She smiled, warmly, "Some boys like that…."

Kara groaned, "Muuuum."

"What about Ross?"

"MUM!"

Kara let her head thunk down on her arms as her mother continued to pester her about her friends.

There was no room for thinking about boys right now, not with their hunt for the Founders tests, Tom's hunger to learn Olde magic, and the revelation that four of them were from a dark future that had been ruined. But how was she supposed to tell her mother that?

Although, she supposed thoughtfully, eyes falling on the blackout curtains that still hung in the window, and remembering the sandbags and shattered houses they'd passed while coming home a week ago, perhaps her mother also wanted to focus on lighter things.

For a moment her mind supplied a fleeting thought… like a half imagining from a daydream.

But she shook it off.

There was no time for silly things like that.

DRUELLA

"You're still brooding."

It wasn't often that Druella could startle Tom, the boy was so watchful and cautious that surprising him was rather challenging.

So it was typical that this time, when she hadn't been trying to startle him, that she actually succeeded.

Tom jumped a little at her words, and then promptly glared, "I'm not."

It had become a tradition, after that first year, that he would spend the Winter Hols with the Rosiers. Druella's mother hadn't forgotten how Tom had defended her son, and so he'd become family, practically another son.

Druella had wondered, after Professor Merrythought adopted Tom, if he would now spend his holidays with her. But she needn't have worried. Her Mother and Professor Merrythought were friends, had been for many years, and on the subject of Tom himself, they were especially aligned.

Both of them saw him as a son. Both of them appreciated that the other saw him that way too.

So Merrythought was staying at Hogwarts for the Winter break, but she was coming to spend the night before Yule with them and give her gifts in the morning before returning to the school.

Meaning that Druella had three weeks to try and sort out where Tom's head was at.

The revelations that had come out, just before the Yuletide break, were startling ones, shocking, horrifying even.

But they also explained a great deal.

It explained why Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco were so different. It explained why she felt a connection with Draco, though she hadn't yet confirmed her suspicions.

It explained the sadness, it explained the way sometimes they were sadder and more hurt than any young people should be.

It explained why Draco had always eyed Tom with suspicion and wariness.

It explained why Harry and Tom had this deep connection.

In one life, they were fated enemies.

In this life, Harry had chosen another way.

'How many people would do that?' Druella wondered, 'How many people would come back, ripping time apart to save a world that had treated him so poorly, and to give the person who had ruined their life so thoroughly another chance?'

Very few.

Harry was truly special.

They'd shared their big secret, giving them enough details to understand, without giving too many.

Druella knew the general gist of how history had gone, but she didn't know how her individual story had ended. She suspected a connection with Draco…but otherwise her future, her fate, in that darker future was still an unknown.

Tom wasn't so fortunate.

He was part of the destruction of the Wizarding World.

It would be easy to say he was responsible, that he was the reason things had gone wrong, but that would be sanitising the facts.

Voldemort's rise was a symptom of a greater problem. The sentiments that his followers had acted upon were already there, festering on the sides of their society. The bias, the hatred, the fear, that was all already here. He'd simply weaponised it.

Oh she had not doubt he believed it, knowing that he was the descendant of Slytherin, she could absolutely see a world where Tom would use it as a way of justifying his greatness and confirming his place.

He'd also used it to galvanise a population used to being in power, and who were resentful of their status at the top being eaten away.

But the sentiments had already been there. The embers quietly smouldering until he fanned them into open flames.

Still, it was one thing to consider it with that kind of dispassionate gaze, and then to know that it was you that had done it. You who had caused so much hurt, so much pain.

Especially to people you cared for.

Because Tom did care for Hermione, he valued her intellect, he enjoyed her company, he sought her imput.

Because Tom loved Harry. Their bond was deeper than brotherhood, than romance. It was like they were two sides of the same coin.

They were the definition of balance.

Now he had to face that he'd hurt Harry, or rather a part of him that he couldn't remember, a potential future, had hurt Harry, had almost destroyed him.

She didn't blame him for being shaken to his core.

But he needed to talk about it.

So she simply popped her hand on her hip and arched her eyebrow at him, "Really?"

He stared back, before finally huffing a sigh.

She hid the victorious grin, it worked every time on Bash, and it seemed Tom was no different.

"I'm not brooding, Druella."

"You are," she moved into the room and folded herself neatly to sit beside him, "Come on, better out than in."

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are. Now, spill."

His exasperated look was both amusing to her and a sign that she had won.

"I just…" Tom sighed gustily, "I don't know what to do now. I don't know what to believe. My friends…are they even my friends? I had thought… from an early age I'd learned that friendship and caring were foolish and only for the weak and easily misused. These last few years, I'd begun to think… but now… now I know that they never really were my friends. They came back to manipulate me, like a chess piece."

"That is ridiculous."

"Is it?" he fixed her with a dark look, "How can I be sure that anything is true? Anything is real? They came back to reshape the future. Reshape me. How can I trust any of their motivations…?"

Druella considered his words. He was considering this like a Slytherin, using logic and shrewdness and cunning to make justifications, when really, Harry and the other's motivations had been largely emotional.

There were only a few people who could reach Tom on an emotional level. One was Harry. The other…

"What did Tierra say?"

Tom gave her an affronted look, "What does the Hufflepuff have to do with it?"

"Please," Druella scoffed, "You always like to canvas all the opinions and when it comes to emotions, Tierra is the opposite of a Slytherin. Of course she's the one you'd get the measure of."

He looked a bit scandalised that she'd read him so well, "The day a Slytherin has to rely on a Hufflepuff is the day the world ends."

"Uh huh." Druella wiggled her fingers, in a give it to me gesture, "I know you spoke to her about it. What did she say?"

Tom glared.

Druella wiggled her fingers again.

"She said they came back to save me." He grumbled, glaring, "I told her they came back to save the world from me, but she said that that was stupid and they'd come back to save the world…and me."

"Smart girl."

"Druella…" Tom scowled, but she butted in.

"Tom, you have a terrible tendency to think the world revolves around you." She informed him, "And often it does. You're a natural leader, charismatic, powerful, handsome, all qualities that encourage people to accord you a certain level of inherent respect." She waggled a finger at him, "Harry and the others could have come back to any point in time to try and save the wizarding world. They could have erased you from existence, they could have gone back to the time of their parents, or even the Founders. Instead… they chose now."

He frowned at her, "Tierra said the same thing."

"That's because she's emotionally savvy, unlike you." Druella lightly tapped his nose, smiling as he wrinkled it, "They came back in time to save the world. They came back to this time…to save you."

Tom considered her words, which she counted as a win. He'd not outright dismissed them, which was a victory in itself.

"So that means...?"

"It means that Harry cares about you enough, despite everything, to want to help you. It means that we actually do have a chance to save the Magical World. It means…" And here she shifted close, and leaned her head on his shoulder, "That you are even more special than we thought."

She saw him smile a little at that, and chuckled internally at his vanity, pleased that he looked less worried.

Quickly she leaned up and gave him a big, wet kiss on the cheek, before standing up and dashing out of the room, laughing as his irritated noises followed her.

Her mother saw him as another son, and Druella definitely saw him as another brother.

Sometimes brothers needed more of a push.

Speaking of…

"It's going to take a bit of time to rebuild that trust," Bash mused, sitting on her bed that night.

The twins often had these late night chats when they were on holidays. No-one understood them quite as well as their twin did.

"It will, but at least he's open to that." Druella sighed, leaning back against the headboard.

He traced the pattern of a rose on her bedspread, "They're Dimitera."

"Almost certainly," she agreed, "How could they not be? Bound by space and time and magic, it's like something from an old saga."

"Mmmmm," Bash mused thoughtfully, "Seems that we've fallen into a rather big adventure…"

"Like you mind." Druella teased, smiling at her twin softly, "You've always wanted more."

He winked back, before his face sobered, "There's something that has been bugging me though…"

"What's that?" she cocked her head/

"Dimitera are balances, a foil, a partner or a rival that creates stability." Bash mused quietly, "Harry was Tom's Dimitera, back in their original timeline…"

Druella nodded.

Bash sighed, "But Harry was born late into the piece, long after Tom had begun his rise to power… who was supposed to balance him before Harry came along?"

"Dumbledore?" Druella shrugged, "He'd defeated Grindelwald, apparently, and was poised here at Hogwarts."

"What are the chances that he was the Dimitera of two Dark Lords?" Bash shook his head, "Still, you're probably right actually. He was the one to balance and foil him in those early years. Until Harry."

"Maybe the magic knew one day that Harry would be in this time?" Druella pointed out, "Now they are truly Dimitera, balancing each other, like Morgana and Merlin."

"Or Arthur and Merlin," Bash winked, as she rolled her eyes at the old familiar debate.

Scholars had always debated whether Merlin was the Dimitera of Arthur or Morgana, or whether Morgana had been Arthur's. Or even Merlin and Morgana.

Still she was relieved that her twin seemed to agree with her.

Their friends were more exceptional than they'd thought. But it changed nothing…

Harry and Tom were going to do great things.

And the Rosiers would be by their side when they did.

DOREA

Dorea knew something was wrong, as soon as Harry came home for the Winter break.

All of the children were subdued, even the usually boisterous Ron. Hermione looked tired, and her nails had been chewed down to nothing, and as for Draco… the blond had purple shadows under his eyes.

But none looked more out of sorts than her Harry.

He was pale, tired, and it felt like all the energy had been drained from him.

So she was glad when Draco disappeared home to France, Ron in tow, and Hermione to Hector's home, leaving her 'son' alone with his concerned guardians.

It was hard to leave him be for a day or two, to step back and give him the space to recuperate and then maybe be more willing to talk, but Dorea was a Slytherin. She could be patient.

After all…you didn't stop being a parent, even if your child was long gone.

She only too vividly remembered those years after Gareth's death, the feeling of being utterly lost in her grief. It was like losing her direction in a storm tossed sea, like losing her purpose, her drive.

She'd felt adrift.

She'd been lost.

She knew that was why Charlus had brought them home to England, rather than remaining on the Greek Islands he'd been researching.

It had been too painful to remain.

At least home, at the Castle of Linn that they'd bought after Graduation and in anticipation of their marriage had no memories of the sweet little dark haired boy they'd lost.

Sometimes when she thinks of him, the memory of his gummy smile as a chubby baby, and then his laugh as he ran across the grass as a toddler, she wants to crawl back into her bed and cry until she can't remember him anymore.

Harry isn't Gareth.

Nor does he replace the baby she'd fed at her breast, or the boy she'd watched take his last rattling breath in his father's arms.

But he's a Potter, he's the godson of a Black.

He's Family, and he had lost his parents as she had lost her son.

How could she do any less, than help him?

That was how it had begun anyway.

Now… now…

Harry feels like her son. Not Gareth, never Gareth. But still her child.

Sometimes she wonders if Harry's mother, somewhere out there in the ether knows that she loves her boy.

Either way, it didn't change the fact that Harry had found a place in her heart.

Seeing him so worn, so hurt, awoke a parental instinct that was as familiar as it was painful.

It wasn't the first time she'd felt it for Harry, nor did she think it would be the last.

But she also knew that she had to be careful. Address it as a mother, and a Slytherin.

Tactically. But lovingly too.

So she waited.

It was the night before the Yuletide and Christmas celebrations and the three Potters were gathered around the hearth with their logs.

Harry had expressed over the summer that he was interested in the older magical traditions, and so Charlie had gone out of his way to ensure their celebrations would tie in the more mystical style.

Dorea had learned of these observances back during her childhood as a Black, but her family had moved past them, to a more modern magical celebration. Nothing like the cheerful Muggle festivities, but also far removed from the deeper and more pagan origins.

The Yule log however was the only one that had made the transition.

In previous years she and Charlie had performed the ceremony alone.

Now, Harry joined them.

Harry had been drawn to the elder wood, which was both interesting and also concerning. She remembered his story of the Deathly Hallows, that he'd become the true master of the Elder Wand, and it seemed that the loyalty was now deeply engrained.

Elder was such a deep wood, with history in both Ancient and Olde magic. Modern magic had taken elements from the Muggle Christian traditions, focusing on the darker elements of its power.

It had been such a strong wood, so deeply tied into its magical roots, that the frightened Muggles had sought to suppress it, and turn its reputation from protection and power to darkness and evil.

And it had worked.

Few remembered now, a time when Elder had been one of the most powerful and deeply magical woods used in spells.

And it had formed a connection to her Harry.

Dorea caressed her own mahogany log as she silently watched Harry learn about the tradition from Charlie. Hers was a symbol of guidance… of growth.

It had also been a surprise, as every year since Gareth she'd been inevitably pulled towards the mourning wood of Willow.

It was both a relief to feel the quiet tug towards the mahogany now, and also a tinge of sadness as she placed the log on the fire and felt the magic slowly curl up her arm.

She was moving on, but the sorrow would never truly leave her.

But her purpose had shifted, from mourning her lost child, and the future he'd represented, to caring for her new son.

He was her new path.

She was glad that her gift this year was something precious, something he'd need for remembering, and also for letting the past go: a pensieve.

It had helped her a great deal in that dark year after Gareth first passed away.

But it had been important to remember that she couldn't live there in the past. They were merely a shadow… precious, but not living.

The magic felt warm, comforting, but also full of power, and her gaze inevitably shifted towards Harry. It felt almost like encouragement, like she was on the right path.

Her adoptive son sighed as he leaned back from his own log, looking thoughtful.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" she found herself asking, emboldened by the strong magic of the Mahogany.

Charlie glanced at her in surprise, but quickly refocused on Harry as he sighed and shifted, sitting down so that he was facing them on the rug.

"Yeah," his voice was slow, quiet, like he still wasn't entirely sure, but was going to try, "We told them. The others… about where we'd come from."

"Harry…" Charlie's gaze was alarmed, but Dorea, after a quick glance at her husband, focused back on her adopted child.

"And?" she asked softly, coaxing him to continue sharing.

It was risky, beyond risky. The secrets they held were potentially fatal, and a misstep could lead to a future even more dark and cruel than the one they'd left in desperation. But she was deeply aware that Harry knew that.

Her sweet boy had a tendency to shoulder far more responsibility than he was, well, responsible for.

He knew the risks far more intimately and far more horrifyingly than she or Charlie ever could.

She trusted that if he had chosen to share this, then it was for a good reason.

"We had to." Harry's voice was quiet, almost dull, "What were we going to do? Keep lying after we'd had an opportunity to share land in our laps? Secrets always come out… no matter how hard you try to keep them buried." There was a note of pleading in his voice now, like he wanted, needed them to agree with him, "Do I keep the secret, leading them down the path in hopes that it would get them where I needed them to be? Do I do as Dumbledore did with me?"

Dorea felt her heart squeeze sadly, and she couldn't help but reach out, cupping his cheek in her hand.

"You should always trust your friends, Harry."

"My parents trusted their friends," the boy's voice was bitter, too bitter for the 14 year old he essentially was now, "Look where that got them."

"Voldemort didn't trust anyone," Dorea replied, remembering the story vividly, "Look where that got him."

Harry's smile was wry, green eyes lighting up as they met hers, "Sneaky."

She smiled back warmly, "Slytherin."

That made him laugh, before slowly sobering once more as Dorea drew back to sit beside her husband.

"Tom didn't take it well, finding out his history. Or rather the future he might have had…"

"I can imagine," Charlie sighed quietly, and Dorea nodded, thinking back to the quiet, contained but fiercely intelligent boy they'd met, "What happened?"

"He was… angry." Harry said, but there was a halting note to his voice, and he continued on, "Not like Voldemort angry but… angry. He was hurt. He was angry at what it meant… he seemed… upset."

"I can imagine he was." Dorea nodded slowly.

She'd witnessed with her own eyes the way Tom's gaze followed Harry and his other friends, some more covetously than others, like they were precious.

Like someone might steal them away.

"I don't know if he was upset because it hurt his pride or because it actually upset him," Harry admitted, "I don't know if it was because he cared…or because it was such a failure."

"Feelings are complicated, Harry." Charlie rubbed his stubbled jaw slowly, "And very variable, person to person. Tom is no different for all that he considers himself to be exceptional. It is the gift of humanity that allows us to live… to feel…to hurt… to love."

"He was incapable… in my time." Harry mused quietly.

"Incapable? Or did he give it up?" Dorea gently nudged, and Harry's head tilted curiously, an action he had subconsciously picked up, amusingly, from Tom himself. It made her smile.

"Give it up?"

"Immortality," Dorea smiled wryly, "Over the centuries, many have craved it. But it is never the gift they think it to be. People wish to live forever because the idea of not existing, of being merely a passing breath on the winds of time is terrifying to them. But what they forget is that it is our morality, our fleeting life, which gives it the sweetness of being alive. It is our inevitable end, the closing of the book on our story, that means we have truly lived. Without that fear, without that end… what is life?"

Harry blinked at her.

She felt her eyes crinkle as she smiled even more warmly, "To achieve immortality… you must give up life itself."

He considered her words, a small frown crossing his face, "I think I know what you mean."

She rather suspected that no one truly understood the preciousness of mortality like Harry did.

It broke her heart.

Slowly she drew him into her arms, and hugged him tightly, feeling tears prick her eyes as she felt him hug her back. Loosely at first, and then like he never wanted to let go.

"I know you do."

TO BE CONTINUED…

Reviews

Vexinity - You sort of got Harry and Tom? Or at least you got an idea of their feelings. Apparently our Yule chapter always has a round of different POV's.

Shiara – You have indeed been waiting and clamouring for the reveal, and I'm glad that it lived up to expectations. Sometimes emotional intelligence is just as important and Tierra is a true Hufflepuff, loyal, hardworking and caring. Those things can be mocked…but they can be the heart of a group.

Amk – Tom may talk to Tia about it… which would then send her to yell at Charlie xD. But yes in essence they're back together but there are little fracture lines now that will take time to heal.

11Devil – Sometimes you just need a Hufflepuff to stubbornly see everyone through!

Smithback – Thank you! I enjoyed writing Tierra's POV. She flowed off the fingers very easily.