Five days later, Evelyn and the boys were back at Hogwarts. Sirius stayed the night with them and she enjoyed eating breakfast with her uncle. Later that afternoon, Sirius left, saying he had to go back and be with his godson but Evelyn wondered if he was actually tired of the daggers Tom had been staring into the side of his head for hours. He apparently did not like to share her attentions, something he made more than clear when he kept her up all night trying to make up for it.

The more time she spent with him, the more she felt that bond grow, that cord in the center of her chest strengthen. What was once a soft, golden string had now become a black rope, constantly pulling her to him, driving their souls to be together. Now, as Evelyn got ready for the ball in her room, she felt a slight pain in her chest just from being apart from him.

You might kill her if you leave her side for too long. That was what Sirius said. Her own magic wasn't strong enough to fight it. But how long was "too long"? Weeks? Days? Hours?

She didn't want to test it and Tom wouldn't let her anyway. It was already a pain to convince him to give her two hours to herself to get ready. And though she believed that a part of Tom was worried about paining her, Evelyn knew that this clinginess was just the result of Tom loving her. He cared about very little in this life. Now that he had chosen her, he wouldn't give her up easily. He didn't want to be apart from her purely because he loved her. Two hours, to him, felt like an eternity.

So she smiled as he begged her to let her get ready with him. "You've spent weeks away from me. What's the difference now?" she had asked.

"I'm not ready to leave you alone just yet" he murmured. Not yet. Because they both knew that he would have to go back to hunting the Death Eaters. Tom was asking for what little time he had.

Evelyn just kissed his cheek and went back to her dorm to get ready.

The Hogmanay Ball was a tradition started after the year Voldemort died. The professors believed that the halls needed some happiness so they decided to hold a ball every five years on New Year's Eve, named after the Scottish celebration. They would dance until midnight to mark the dawn of a new year, another one without fear. Evelyn was only a second year when the last one happened but she never would have imagined going at all, much less with the son of the wizard whose death they were hailing.

But there was also another reason to celebrate: Tom's birthday.

He hadn't told it her when it was but it was surprisingly easy to bribe a thirteen-year-old into telling her stuff when all she needed was a few sickles. It was the same date as their father's: December 31st. Because Voldemort was determined to make his son into his spitting image, even down to the day. Evelyn frowned when she heard it—Tom was his own person, not his father's to mold—but resolved to make it a day of love.

"Are you almost done, Little Dove? We're already late." Like Tom cared about being late. He was probably reveling in the fact that they would have to spend less time there. "Yes, but I'm not reveling in the fact that you're not with me so hurry up."

"So bossy." But she smiled.

Evelyn pinned back a few strands of her curled, dark hair. It was in an updo with several of the curls hanging down. To be honest, she left it somewhat messy like that for Tom, knowing his fingers would ache to pull on the hanging locks. Knowing that she would like it if he did.

Her makeup was simple. It was always simple; she was never very good at doing it. Plain skin with a little bronzer to carve her cheeks, thin black eyeliner to go with the mascara, and nude lips with a little gloss. But even though her makeup was simple and her hair nothing special, Evelyn felt beautiful.

"You are beautiful."

"You haven't seen me yet."

"I don't have to see you to know that you are beautiful, Little Dove."

She smiled as she pulled on her dress. It was a simple black gown, strapless and hugging her breasts to accentuate what little cleavage she had. After hugging her waist, it fell straight to the floor. But the one part of the dress that was a little daring was the slit: high, going to her hip and showing off more skin than her boyfriend would like. She had a feeling that if anyone looked too long, they might end up at the bottom of the Black Lake.

Evelyn slipped on a pair of black gloves made out of a mesh-like material before putting on some short, slingback heels to match. She looked at herself in the mirror as she slipped on a pair of small, pearl-dangle earrings. And Evelyn realized with a startle that she felt beautiful. More than beautiful, actually.

She felt divine.

"Tom, I'm re—"

But before she could even finish the thought, there was a knock on the door. "Have you been waiting out there?"

"For about an hour and forty-five minutes, yes." Evelyn rolled her eyes and opened the door to see him.

Tom.

He was wearing a crisp all-black suit with his deep brown curls styled nicely on top of his head. His eyes were dark as he stared at her, holding out a bouquet of roses so dark red, they looked almost back. Tom's jaw dropped, literally, as he took her in.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he rasped, stepping into the doorway and grabbing her waist tightly. His lips came down to her ear and when he whispered, hot breath traveled down her neck. "So beautiful. And so mine."

From this close, she could smell the shadow and musk lingering on his skin. It began to intoxicate her, clearing her head of any thought that wasn't Tom. "Do you like the dress?" she managed to ask in a daze.

His hand tightened on her waist. "Like it? I fucking love it."

"Even with the slit?"

Tom stepped back and eyed the slit with a mixture of lust and slight anger. She could practically see the emotions running through his black eyes. Finally, after a few moments of deliberation, Tom said, "No. If anyone gets near you, they're dead anyway. The slit just gives me easy access for later."

Evelyn stepped up to him and wrapped her fingers—which were now painted a shade of nude to match her lips—around his lapels. She stood on her tiptoes and brought her lips to his ear, just as he did to her. "Do you know what else makes for easy access?" she purred.

"What?"

She smirked before brushing her fingers down his cheek. Something in her makeup must have brought out this inner sexy goddess because right now, all she felt was confidence. Evelyn felt like the most beautiful, attractive woman in the world whereas before, all she could feel was that she was a poor substitute for her father, a disappointment. And she knew that it was Tom that made her feel like this. He freed her from her grandparents. He made her feel powerful. He made her feel loved.

It was crazy what a little thing like love could do.

Evelyn leaned into Tom's ear and whispered, "No underwear."

Tom growled and pushed her against the wall so quickly that she gasped. "Fuck the ball. I need you now."

His hands immediately used the slit to hike up her skirt and settle the fabric at her waist before wrapping her legs around him. She could feel his hardened cock through his slacks as it thrust into her. Soon, the sounds of a buckle being undone could be heard through her shaky breaths.

Evelyn leaned in to kiss Tom but he pulled away. "No. No kissing."

She pouted. "Why not?"

He leaned down and bit her ear. "Because I don't want to ruin your makeup; I want to ruin your ability to walk."

Wetness began to trail down her thighs. Tom somehow knew exactly how she wanted to be treated, saying everything she wanted to hear. Whether it was their bond or just the way that they fit together, she didn't know. He knew when to treat her like a queen, like a lover, like a whore. He knew it all.

"Such a naughty girl," Tom groaned as he pushed into her body. "You deserve to be punished for wearing a slit like this."

Evelyn moaned at the sheer size of him. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as he punished her with his quick, hard movements. He wasn't being gentle, not now.

"You're the only one who can use it."

Tom's hand made his way to her throat. "Good. Only I can fuck you like this. You're mine."

"Yours." She would always be his.

Evelyn's eyes rolled back in her head but Tom's hand on her neck tightened. "Look at me." She obeyed instantly and opened her eyes to stare into his black irises. "I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you."

And then she saw it. Reflected on his dark irises was her face, her mouth open from the pleasure, her eyelids hooded with lust. "My beautiful fucking girl," Tom murmured, moving his hand from her neck to her chin. His fingers were cold yet soft, somehow managing to drive her wild with even the barest of touches. So gentle despite his hard thrusts.

Tom's breaths quickened in her ear as he continued to pound into her over and over. Evelyn felt heat rising within her but she fought hard to push it down. She wasn't ready for this to be over. She wasn't sure if she ever would be ready.

"Let go," Tom growled.

"B-but..."

"Let go, Little Dove," he purred into her mind. "Give me your everything. Give it all to me." And then he added, "I'll be here to catch you."

So she did. She felt herself come undone as Tom pressed into her one final time before coming deep inside of her. Evelyn's chest was heaving, as was Tom's, but all she could focus about was the feeling of being completely surrounded by him. Of being consumed by him.

And as Tom pulled out of her, as he buckled his pants and fixed her dress with a kiss to her forehead, as she took his arm while he led her down the corridor, she couldn't help but reach out to the bond in her chest and feel it growing stronger.

Tom hated dances. He thought they were a pathetic waste of time, a piss-poor excuse to spend money on a useless suit and flowers. He thought that the idea of dancing for hours sounded worse than the torture he inflicted on others, that the idea of being surrounded by a room of imbeciles and mudbloods might have been the seventh layer of hell. Tom hated dances.

Until he went to one with Evelyn.

With her, he would gladly buy the suit. He would pick the largest bunch of flowers he could find. He would dance for days. He would greet thousands of mudbloods personally. He would do it all for her.

. . .

Tom never hated dances. He just hated dances without her.

Tonight, she was beautiful. She was always beautiful but tonight she was fucking beautiful. Tom wasn't sure if there was a word in the English dictionary that described how radiant Evelyn looked on his arm.

Her dress almost brought him to his knees when he first saw it. It was so simple and yet so stunning. At first, he could have done without the cleavage and the extremely high slit until he realized that only he could benefit from them (which he had already because fuck, she wasn't lying about not wearing any panties). Now, they were just a way to show off what was his.

It took everything in him not to ruin her makeup or pull on those little curls that dangled from her bun. Rest assured, he would later. Now, he just wanted to let her enjoy being the prettiest woman in Hogwarts.

They walked into the Great Hall, where the dance was held. Unlike the Yule Ball, the Hogmanay Ball wasn't decorated with holiday decor. It was a gothic-style ball with thousands of hanging candles and stars lining the ceiling. On the edge of the room sat great iron candelabras with even more candles. Candles and fairy lights were part of traditional Hogmanay decor so they were all that filled the room.

"This is beautiful," Evelyn murmured as she looked around the room.

Tom didn't take his eyes off of her. "Yeah. Beautiful."

Every pair of eyes had turned to stare at them, probably because the son of the Dark Lord was actually at one of these bloody things and with the beautiful, mysterious daughter of Regulus Black. Hardly anyone knew anything about her, just that she was beautiful. And tonight, everyone in Hogwarts knew truly how beautiful she was.

Tom heard several sets of whispers as he led Evelyn to the dance floor.

"Who is that? She's so pretty."

"Did someone actually manage to snag Tom?"

"I'm jealous and the thing is, I don't even know which one I'm jealous of."

He just smirked and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. A slow violin began to play an eerie melody while Tom gracefully moved her around the dance floor.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him. "This is a shock. You're quite the dancer."

"If I told you my skills earlier, you would have asked me to do it more."

She giggled. The sound made him feel warm, uncomfortable things in his stomach. "Well, it's too late. I know now. You'll have to dance with me every night."

Tom felt his smile soften as he looked down at her. "Gladly."

They danced for hours, neither of them wanting to leave the other's embrace, not even for something as trivial as food or drink. The music continued well into the night but Tom didn't tire. Sleep didn't matter when all he could think about was holding her, dancing with her, being with her.

He was a good dancer. His father taught him. It was all part of the act, of course. Purebloods held stupid balls all the time and a good dance could charm someone without them even knowing it. Now, though, dancing didn't feel like an act. It felt like something natural to do with the only woman he had ever loved.

The music slowed and the students began to trickle out, though the ones that remained still watched them, entranced by the magic that seemed to be radiating from the dark couple on the floor. The Dark Lord and Dark Lady, dancing together.

If Tom had his way, he would be doing this for eternity.

Perhaps he would. Tom had been looking into soul bonds, into their magic. Practically nothing was known about them except for some guesses like Sirius's. But Tom wondered if a soul bond was a sort of Horcrux, if his soul inside Evelyn would live on unless something killed her. Like his father's snake, Nagini.

Only time would tell.

Evelyn rested her cheek on his chest and slowed. She was getting tired, he knew that, but he wasn't ready to let her go. They still had a few minutes to midnight and he would be damned if this night ended too early.

She yawned and smiled. "Happy birthday, my love."

Tom stiffened but still held tight. "How did you know?"

"Mattheo." Tom frowned—his bloody git of a brother would pay for this—and she giggled. "Don't be mad at him. You never told me and I wanted to know."

"When's your birthday?" Tom asked even though he already knew. She didn't need to find out how much digging he did on her when they first met.

Now, it was Evelyn's turn to stiffen. "What time is it?"

"11:59."

"In one minute then." He smiled and rested his cheek on her head. His little Evelyn, whose birthday was just one day after his. Well, three-hundred and sixty-six days, technically, but who was counting?

The clock chimed at the edge of the room. Twelve bells, cheers echoing after each one. Another year without his father terrorizing the Wizarding World. Another year until he began doing the same.

But Tom didn't care about that. Not anymore. His only focus was the woman in his arms.

He pulled back and kissed her gently. "Happy birthday, Little Dove. I'll give you your present tomorrow."

She smiled and cupped his cheek. "I have everything I could ever want."

Tom grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Then let me give you more. Let me give you the world, Evelyn Black."

Her eyes softened. "You already have."

And after that, they didn't need words because none would do justice to how he was feeling.

Tom's life had always been darkness. The darkness of his birth—of a muggle mother who died as soon as he left her womb—the darkness of his father's legacy, the darkness of the power deep in his veins. His life had always been surrounded by black shadows.

But Evelyn?

Evelyn was the light. She was the stars, not banishing his darkness but embracing it, making it more beautiful just by being there with him.

Tom had always thought that being in love was a weakness. It was a trick, some magic spell, something muggles made up to give themselves hope.

Until he. met Evelyn.

Now, he realized that love was feeling his heart stutter in his chest at her smile. Love was feeling like he had come home every time she entered the room. Love was the way his mouth twitched upwards at the sound of her giggle or the way his body melded to hers in the early hours of the morning. Love was a cord that wrapped around the heart he didn't know existed, pulling him closer and closer to the most radiant woman he had ever seen.

Love was a lost little bird finding her way home to him.

Doves mate for life and... and I think it was my soul's way of recognizing you as mine. At that moment, when I looked into my eyes, I knew. You were my hope, my happiness, my new beginning. My Little Dove. Tom said that weeks ago as he held her through the night. He knew—even before he knew that he knew—that they were meant to be together. That they were two doves finding each other in the depths of a storm.

He would weather any storm for her. He would fly to every corner of the Earth to be with her. He would do anything for her.

For her, his soulmate. His love. His Little Dove.

Not my heart clenching over words that I literally wrote. But let's be honest: we all want a Tom. Have a good weekend my luvs, let me know what you think xx