When Evelyn woke, her body hurt. It felt like she had been run over by the Hogwarts train. Everything was sore and standing up took almost all of her energy.

Her heart hurt too. That dream... It felt so real. It was the first time she had seen her father, talked to him, held him in her arms. And then he was gone all too soon as she was pulled back by shadows seeking to drive them apart. By darkness pulling her away from that lake.

It wasn't real, she told herself. But it felt real.

Evelyn winced when she stood up but to her surprise, nothing felt broken. Yes, her body felt battered but everything felt in place. That couldn't be, could it? Her grandfather had broken one of her ribs and she was sure her nose had been broken too. Evelyn rushed over to the broken mirror by the bed to find that, miraculously, most of her bruises had faded. What should have been deep purple and black marks around her body were faded so lightly she could hardly tell they were there. Her face was untouched and though her stomach had taken most of the hits, it was barely discolored.

With confusion written all over her face, she touched the tender skin. It hurt but it was bearable. Did a healer come see me? she wondered. No, they would have never allowed that. So then how did she heal? Did she sleep for several days, sleep through Christmas until her body had mended itself? No, they wouldn't have allowed that either.

So then what was going on?

Evelyn realized that she wasn't going to get any answers by remaining in her bedroom and if it was Christmas day, her grandmother wouldn't allow her to hide away anyway. So she began to get dressed, gently curling her hair and dressing in a long-sleeved black dress that reached below her knees. Her grandmother always insisted on formal holidays, somehow sucking the joy out of each one. Though Evelyn had to admit, she did like dressing up.

Makeup successfully covered whatever bruises weren't faded enough. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she could hardly tell that she had received one of the worst beatings only the night before. She looked almost normal. Almost because no makeup, no dress, no healing could fix the sadness in her eyes.

Evelyn carefully tiptoed down the stairs, making sure not to creak too much. Her grandmother wouldn't care if it was Christmas; if she brought too much attention to herself, her ribs would be broken again easily.

A crackling fire could be heard even before she entered the den. That's odd, she thought. Grandmother never lights fires. She can't stand the smoke. Her grandfather liked fires but he wouldn't be awake this early. Something was off. Something she couldn't put her finger on.

She walked into the large room. The walls were made entirely of dark wood, all except for the one made completely of glass windows that overlooked the lake. The mahogany was tall, almost two stories tall with an iron chandelier that was almost as grand as the one in the foyer. Shelves of books lined the walls, mostly magic books but some were the gothic classics she adored. There was a dark green loveseat to the right of the fire—where she normally sat—with two black leather chairs side by side in front of the hearth. A few lamps were around the room but these were rarely lit. Usually, the large windows at the side of the room were the only source of light in the room.

Evelyn trembled as she approached the chairs. Please, she pleaded to any god who would listen. Please make this Christmas bearable.

But as she finally looked at the room—really looked at the room—she stilled.

Because there on the green loveseat lounged a mischievous-looking Mattheo, holding an origami paper crane that he was attempting to gently burn with his wand. And in the armchair closest to the sofa, reading the Daily Prophet as if it were the most natural thing he could be doing, was Tom.

Evelyn gasped as she saw them instead of her grandparents. The boys's eyes flashed over to her. Mattheo's lightened to go along with the blooming smile on his face while Tom's darkened at the sight of her. The older brother sat his paper to the side and rested his hands on his knees, looking equal parts protector and destroyer as he sat in her grandmother's chair.

"Happy Christmas, Evie!" Mattheo beamed before she turned back to Tom.

"Your grandparents are dead," he said simply as if it were just another headline he read in the paper. Mattheo scolded him under his breath and Tom sighed. "And happy Christmas."

And despite the fact that her grandparents—her guardians—were dead, Evelyn couldn't help the small smile that began on her face. Tom studied her scrupulously, no doubt trying to figure out if she was alright or if this smile was one of hysteria.

It all made sense. He was the one who healed her. He was the one who lit the fire and brought warmth into the house. He was the one who saved her.

"Happy Christmas indeed," she whispered, her eyes going back and forth between the two boys.

Mattheo grinned and jumped off the loveseat, wrapping his arms around her middle and squeezing tightly. When he spoke, the joy in his voice could barely be contained. "We can spend the holiday as a family!"

Family. A real family. Her boys. Her family.

Evelyn pulled back and softly walked over to Tom. He was still studying her with that dark look in his eyes. "They're dead?"

He nodded slowly. "I vowed to protect you. They were impeding that so they've been disposed of. Don't expect an apology."

"I don't want one." And she didn't. Even now, knowing that they were gone, that she could finally be free from fear, safe from their hands, she didn't feel sad. She didn't feel angry. All she could feel was relief. A giant weight on her life was finally gone and she could breathe again. "Thank you."

Tom looked surprised for a moment. "You aren't going to chastise me for murdering your only family?"

"Hey!" Mattheo cried. Tom rolled his eyes but didn't apologize.

Evelyn shook her head. "No. They were never my family, not really. I'm surprised you did it but not upset. Not even a little."

Then, Tom stood up and cupped her cheek with his hand. "I told you not to question my love for you," he murmured. "It wins above all else. Even family. Your grandparents were dead from the first day they placed their hands on you. I just quickened the process."

He looked up and down her body before frowning. "How are you feeling? I couldn't heal you too much, not without waking you."

"I'm much better than I would have been. What happened?"

Tom's jaw clenched and his dark brown eyes glinted black in the dim light of morning. "I felt your pain. Mattheo and I packed our bags and apparated almost immediately but you were already unconscious by the time we arrived. Your grandfather was still taking the beater's club to your body. He died first. Your grandmother was terrified and pleaded for mercy, which she was thoroughly denied. Mattheo disposed of the bodies while I healed you as much as I could."

Evelyn looked over at her cousin. It was then that she realized how similar he looked to Tom. Same brown eyes, curled hair, same dangerous spark in his eyes. At age thirteen, he already knew how to dispose of dead bodies.

"Remind me not to get on his bad side," she remarked to Tom in his mind. He smirked.

"So they're really gone?" Evelyn asked out loud. "I'm really..."

"Safe," Tom finished. "You're safe with me. Always."

Mattheo snorted. "Ironic considering he's probably the most dangerous wizard alive." Tom scowled. Then, Mattheo shrieked just as he avoided a jinx headed his way. "Evie, stop him!"

She just smiled and rested her hand on Tom's chest, drawing his attention back to her. "What's going to happen to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will they send me away? What if the muggles find me? I'm 17 but their legal age is 18. What if they try to take me away somewhere—" Tom laughed under his breath, cutting her off. "What's so funny?"

"Darling," he replied, snaking his arm around her waist and nuzzling into her neck. "You're forgetting that you have an 18-year-old man standing in front of you who would kill any witch, wizard, or muggle who tried to take you. I think you'll be fine."

Her shoulders drooped with relief and she sank into Tom's comforting hold. He was right. She was just overthinking things. It wasn't as if she expected... this.

"You're right," she muttered, resting her head on his chest. "I'm just not thinking clearly."

"You've had a long night. You should rest." Tom's hand lazily ran over her hair.

"No! It's Christmas."

Tom smirked. "It will still be Christmas in an hour or two. Go to bed for a bit. Mattheo can take a nap on the couch and I can heal you more while you lay with me."

Evelyn nodded and began to start back toward the stairs but Tom held her back. "Kreacher," he boomed. His voice cascaded throughout the dark home like black velvet.

"Yes, Master Tom?" Kreacher croaked, appearing from behind the doorway to the den. He looked exhausted and a little fearful but he didn't cower away from Tom like she might have expected.

"Master?" she questioned, looking back and forth between the two.

Tom's hand appeared at the small of her back. "Kreacher is aware that we will marry. He is just practicing the proper greetings early." Well, that made one of them because, until that moment, Evelyn hoped but never actually knew that she would marry Tom. But he seemed to accept that it was going to happen, as did her house elf, so she went along with it.

"Yes," Kreacher replied. "Master Tom saved Mistress Evelyn from Kreacher's former masters. Kreacher is very grateful to Master Tom."

"Have Evelyn's things brought to my chambers," Tom ordered.

Kreacher bowed. "Yes, Master Tom." Then, he apparated away to another part of the house, no doubt packing up her room as they spoke.

She whirled back to the handsome boy. His hand was still on her back, a possessive reminder of who she belonged to. "Your chambers? Master? Marriage? What are you talking about?"

Tom rolled his eyes like she was being ridiculous. "Yes, my darling. When we marry—which will be happening—Black Manor becomes mine as much as yours. Last night, after I... took care of your grandparents, Kreacher appeared and cleaned up the blood. He made up the master bedroom for me and gave Mattheo one down the hall." He smirked before kissing her forehead. "It seems your house elf has recognized my place by your side before you. Is that a problem?"

"No." Her words were not hesitant. She supposed there was nothing wrong with it, she was just surprised. Evelyn went from being the sole heir of the Black family fortune to now being the sole possessor. To hear Tom call this home his felt right... just shocking. "What's mine is yours. Even now, before marriage."

"Good." He lay a soft kiss on her lips before looking at his brother, who was now fast asleep on the couch. "It would have been hard tearing him away from here anyway."

She laughed. "He isn't too fond of the London apartment, is he?"

"No. My father may have wealth but he burned our familial estate to the ground. The apartment is the only home we truly have. We cannot buy another because I cannot access our vault at Gringotts until I graduate from Hogwarts. So, in a way, this is the first home he's ever had, even if it's not his." She heard the hidden meaning in his words: This was the first home Tom ever had too.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck before kissing his cheek. "Well, it's our home now. Just the three of us."

Tom smirked but she could see the hidden smile in his eyes. His lips neared hers before he whispered, "Master and Mistress."

"For eternity," she breathed. And then he kissed her.

. . .

Whatever god had heard her prayers earlier listened. This Christmas was more than bearable. It was... wonderful.

After their conversation in the den, Tom brought Evelyn to "his chambers", which actually turned out to be her grandparents' old room. Only now, it was... different. The furniture was brand new and the layout went from closed off to open. Tom's presence practically transformed the room. It was cold and yet nowhere had ever felt warmer. The sight of her clothes in the closet made her want to swoon. She was really here in the master's chambers with Tom. He really came for her.

She fell asleep in his arms rather quickly. Tom didn't sleep, instead healing the remaining bruises on her stomach before contently running his fingers through her hair. When she awoke, they made their way down to the den to find Mattheo awake and hastily wrapping a gift he had in his bag.

Evelyn had never received a Christmas gift, not really, and yet she found herself opening a book on basilisk. "Because you picked basilisks when I asked!" he said, the biggest grin on her face. At that moment, it was the best gift she had ever received.

Mattheo had given Tom a book on the dark arts he had apparently asked for. Tom just gave his brother a handful of galleons while Evelyn felt horrible for not giving either of them anything. Mattheo shrugged it off, saying Tom's gift was more than enough for him, and Tom told her that he would be taking his gift from her later that night in their new bedroom, which made her blush like crazy.

"There's a new pair of lingerie in your drawers. Wear it," Tom growled in her head. An image appeared in her head, one of the new lingerie. It was a black corset and panties that hardly covered anything with lacy garters that wrapped around her thighs. It was much more daring than she was used to.

"Are they my Christmas gift?"

"They're my Christmas gift. Yours is arriving a little later than expected. It should be here tomorrow." She was about to tell him that he shouldn't have gotten her anything but she was interrupted. "I also got you a new necklace." Then, the image of his strong, veiny hand wrapped around her throat appeared in her head. Heat flooded into her core and she had to take a few breaths so she didn't soak through her underwear.

"You're bad, Tom Riddle."

"Positively naughty."

After gifts, Mattheo made Tom fetch a tree (she had no idea from where, it just appeared in the den), which they decorated with small candles that were supposedly enchanted to keep the tree from burning. Slowly, as they poured love into each room, as they replaced pictures and put up Christmas decorations, the house felt warmer, full of happiness and light even in the darkest of rooms.

Kreacher served them a traditional Christmas dinner, which Mattheo ate like it was the Last Supper. Evelyn even prepared a dessert for the occasion. She had told Mattheo she was a horrible cook but he seemed to like it, eating almost the entire dish.

But maybe that was because Tom was glaring daggers at him when he first tried to spit it out.

It tasted horrible but the look in Tom's eyes suggested that it would be the best damn dish the two brothers had ever eaten. She appreciated the way he tried to spare her feelings but she had a working mouth. The thing was bloody awful. Still, she smiled when Mattheo licked his plate clean, clearly trying to not face the wrath in his brother's eyes.

"Tom, don't make him eat it," she said when Mattheo reached for seconds of the custard tart concoction she tried to put together. "It tastes horrible. I'm a dreadful cook."

"Oh, it's the worst thing I've ever eaten. But this has been rather entertaining to watch."

"Thomas!"

"Little Dove, you should never step foot into a kitchen ever again. We have house elves for a reason."

She rolled her eyes but chuckled. This Christmas was odd and certainly different from any she had ever had but... but it was beautiful. It had bad dessert and dead grandparents and bruises and yet she had never felt more surrounded by love in her life than as she watched Mattheo gobble down a feast while Tom's hand gripped her inner thigh.

"This is the best Christmas I've ever had," she murmured, staring at Tom while Mattheo was trying to hide his gags behind a napkin.

"There are plenty more where this one came from. Hopefully with less dessert." She elbowed him and he laughed. He actually laughed. It was a hearty sound from deep within his stomach, rich and smooth like chocolate and so unlike the little chuckles he had let out before.

It was so beautiful that Evelyn couldn't help but laugh too, even as she elbowed him gently. "I love you, Tom."

He bent down and kissed her. "I love you too, Little Dove. Happy Christmas."

And later that night, when Tom got his present from her in the late hours of the night until the early hours of the morning, as she felt their bond glow under its ever-strengthening power, she finally felt free. Free, loved, and happy above all else.

Awww, a fluffy chapter! What do you think Tom's present is? Any guesses? I will be SHOCKED if any of you guess it lol. Hope you liked it!