The royal jet's wheels touched down with a smooth hum on the private tarmac of TIA airport in Tirana. Outside, the Albanian dawn was already heavy with heat, casting golden light over the runways and glittering on the metal of the grounded aircraft. Inside the sleek cabin, a gentle chime followed the captain's announcement.
"This is your captain speaking. Your Highness, we have touched down in Tirana. It's a very hot morning — dress for warm weather."
Jareth exhaled through his nose and stretched his arms up with a long groan, cracking his neck. "I booked a couple of rooms at the Xheko Imperial Luxury Hotel & SPA," he said as he reached for his travel bag. "Figured you might want to go to that cabin alone, Tom?"
Tom stood from his seat without a word. He was silent as he moved to the aisle, and with a flick of his wand, the tailored layers of his former outfit shifted and melted into something more practical. The glamour faded into an open-collared forest green shirt over a white tee, paired with black cargo joggers and sleek black Converse. The necklace around his neck remained — a small black charm that glinted faintly under the early sun through the jet window.
"Yeah," Tom said finally. "Severus, go with Jareth to the hotel."
Severus grumbled under his breath, already annoyed by the heat, but gave a begrudging nod.
Jareth glanced at Tom with a look that lingered — as if wanting to say something else — but thought better of it. "Text me the second you get there. I'll message you the room number."
Tom gave a single nod, stepping toward the exit. The stairs began lowering from the jet's side with a mechanical hiss, letting the morning sun pour through the open door like molten gold.
He didn't turn back.
There was only one place he needed to be. And every second he stood still, Jess was still in the hands of a part of him he had never fully trusted.
It was time to bring her home.
It didn't take long for Tom to find the location. The cabin was nestled deep in the heart of Valbona Valley National Park, hidden by layers of dense forest and ancient magic. As he drew closer, the familiar sting of the wards brushed against his senses — strong, potent, and reinforced. Of course. The Locket had clearly added to them.
He stepped carefully along the narrow, warded path, which hummed with recognition at his presence. The morning air was already thick and humid despite the early hour, the golden rays of the rising sun piercing through the trees. It was just after 5:30 a.m.
"Cherry," Tom called quietly.
With a soft pop, the house-elf appeared at his side. She waved her tiny hand, cooling herself from the growing heat.
"How is it in the cabin?" he asked.
Cherry blinked up at him, her expression unreadable at first, then carefully schooled into one of forced neutrality.
"Mistress is asleep upstairs… snuggling with the Diary," she said, keeping her voice low.
Tom's jaw tensed, but he nodded once. "And my daughter? Nagini?"
"Passed out on the couch," Cherry replied. Then she hesitated.
"And the Locket?" he asked, already expecting the answer.
Cherry's expression darkened. "The nasty Locket is stuck to the chair with a very strong sticking charm. It's powerful magic." She spat to the side. "And he has something around his neck. Parselmagic… very old. Cherry's never seen that kind before. Feels like… like a curse, but not painful. Just binding."
Tom narrowed his eyes, gaze lifting toward the cabin's front porch. "Jess did that?"
Cherry nodded, arms folded. "The whole cabin is quiet now. The Locket is still awake, but he hasn't moved. Just stares. Like he's waiting."
Tom stepped up to the cabin door, wand already in hand. With a quiet flick, the wards recognized his presence and gave a subtle click — the lock disengaging. He eased the door open and slipped inside, closing it silently behind him as Cherry appeared at his side with a soft pop.
The air inside was warm, almost too warm, made heavier by the thick stillness that clung to the walls. Cherry sniffed and scrunched her nose before moving to the small AC unit tucked near the window. With a wave of her hand, it rumbled to life, spreading a low hum and a slow stream of cooler air through the main room.
Tom's boots made no sound as he stepped further into the space, his eyes already drawn to the still form sitting rigid in a chair by the couch. The Locket.
Head bowed, his face hidden beneath tousled hair, the Locket didn't move — didn't speak. He looked more like a broken puppet than a piece of a dark soul. Tom approached slowly, wand steady. With a gentle flick, he lifted the Locket's chin.
Dark Red eyes stared up at him, ringed with heavy circles. His face was pale, lips drawn, and dried tear tracks stained his cheeks. The sight gave Tom pause.
"Mhmm… that's not a good look for you," he murmured quietly.
The Locket flinched slightly, biting his lip before whispering hoarsely, "You would… if you were forced to sit here… and listen to them upstairs."
Tom's brow lifted ever so slightly. "Huh… I see."
The Locket's voice trembled with bitterness. "You're not upset? Not jealous of it?"
Tom lowered his wand and stepped back, his voice calm. "No. Why would I be? The Diary and you… you're still part of me. We are the same soul."
There was no malice in the words, just truth — quiet and absolute. He turned away from the chair and moved toward the staircase without another glance.
"Cherry," he said over his shoulder, "coffee, would you?"
Cherry, who had just finished adjusting the thermostat, gave a quick nod. "Yes, Your Highness."
The Locket blinked, slowly looking at the elf. So… this was Cherry. The one Jess brought up that stumped him, even in the illusion. He had no idea who she was.
And now he sat here silent, bound, listening. Again.
Tom reached the top of the stairs, his steps soundless on the old wooden boards. Morning light spilled in soft gold through the high windows, casting long patterns across the floor of the lofted bedroom. The air up here was warm, still carrying the weight of sleep and dreams.
His gaze drifted immediately to the bed.
There they were.
Jess lay curled against the younger version of himself — the Diary — their bodies wrapped in quiet intimacy. One pale leg was tangled in the loose sheet, the heavier blanket long discarded and half-hanging from the edge of the bed. The U-shaped pregnancy pillow cradled her from behind. Her long raspberry waves were mussed from sleep, spread like silk across the pillow. Her face looked peaceful.
Tom walked over quietly, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes softened. Even now, after everything, the sight of her made his chest tighten. She looked so small curled up like that. So safe.
The Diary was holding her gently, arms wrapped around her as if he were afraid to let go. And when Tom sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning over to stroke his fingers lightly along Jess's cheek, the Diary stirred.
Another pair of crimson eyes blinked open beneath the tousled fringe of dark hair. He met Tom's gaze, a soft, knowing smile forming on his lips.
"Morning…" he murmured.
Tom returned the smile, quiet and genuine. "Morning," he replied. His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "Thank you for protecting her."
The Diary's expression didn't change — but something reverent flickered in his eyes. Gratitude. Relief.
Tom glanced once more at Jess, who whimpered softly and shifted, turning to snuggle deeper into her pregnancy pillow. The rise and fall of her belly under the light sheet made his throat tighten again. Her bump was real. Not just illusion-fed — real and growing.
Tom looked back at the Diary. "Tell me… what happened with her pregnancy? The images you showed me…"
The Diary carefully slipped out of the bed, trying not to disturb her. He moved with the quiet, fluid grace of a memory brought to life. Dressed only in his boxer briefs, he padded across the floor and opened a nearby drawer, pulling out a shirt. He tugged it on slowly, thoughtfully, before glancing back at Jess.
"She needs the rest," he said, voice low. "Let's go downstairs and talk."
Tom nodded. He stood, casting one last look at the woman who meant everything to him. Then he followed the Diary down the stairs, each step quiet with the unspoken weight of what was to come.
Descending the stairs, the Diary walked ahead, wand in hand — the same wand he'd taken from the Locket just the night before. As he reached the main room, the cabin still basked in the soft hush of early morning, filtered sunlight casting pale beams across the wooden floorboards.
With a flick of his wrist, the Diary aimed at the unmoving figure bound to the chair.
"You can move now," he said coolly.
The magical sticking charm broke with a quiet hum, releasing the Locket from his invisible bonds. But before the Horcrux could even twitch, the Diary added in a low, sardonic murmur, "And don't you dare go upstairs. You've done enough to her."
The Locket's bloodshot eyes lifted, rimmed with sleepless dark circles, but he didn't speak. Not yet.
"Did you enjoy your punishment," the Diary added with a smirk, "and my reward last night?"
The Locket sneered but said nothing, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. He rubbed his wrists, still sore from the binding spell.
Tom, who had been silent behind them, let out a soft chuckle and moved across the room to the dining table, settling into one of the carved wooden chairs. He looked remarkably composed, considering everything. Composed… but watchful.
Cherry popped into view beside them with perfect timing, setting down two mugs of steaming fresh coffee in front of them, her small hands moving efficiently despite the heat of the room. "Here you go, Your Highness… Diary-Tom," she said brightly.
Tom gave a short nod of thanks. The Diary offered her a wink.
The Locket finally stood from the chair, stiff and sore. He didn't look at either of them. Instead, he walked across the room toward the bathroom. His footsteps were slow, heavy, and he closed the door behind him with a soft click, not slamming it, but just enough to say he was still bristling.
"He won't get far," the Diary said idly, sipping his coffee. "Jess placed a containment barrier on the whole house last night. He's trapped here. Safely."
Tom gave a slow nod, wrapping his fingers around the warmth of his mug. His gaze drifted toward the loft, toward the woman still asleep above them, safe for now.
Then they heard it, a tiny, tired sound.
A whimper.
From the couch, a bundle shifted beneath a blanket. Nagini sat up slowly, her dark curls a mess of sleep, her eyes blinking as she looked around the cabin with foggy confusion… until her gaze landed on the table.
And there he was.
"Papa…?" she whispered, voice barely audible.
Tom and the Diary both raised a single finger to their lips and said in perfect unison, "Shhh. Mama is still asleep."
Nagini's eyes widened, welling with tears — but she smiled.
She was home. Her papa was here.
And for the first time in days, things finally felt… real.
Tom and the Diary both lifted their mugs at the same time, sipping in near-perfect sync. The air was quiet, heavy with the scent of fresh coffee and the residual weight of unspoken truths. They set their mugs down in unison, the soft clink against the wooden table marking a shift in the room.
The Diary exhaled, his fingers curling loosely around the ceramic handle.
"He had her in an illusion world," he said quietly, voice laced with lingering disgust.
Tom's eyes narrowed sharply, his spine stiffening. "What?"
The Diary didn't hesitate. "The first illusion was set at the Riddle Manor — designed to reflect the day we visited when we murdered our family… only altered. Modernized. He added little Muggle comforts to make it feel more natural to her, more familiar. Then he rewrote her memories."
Tom's jaw tensed, but he stayed silent.
"He made her believe he was you. The main piece," the Diary continued. "And he didn't just playhouse with her, he got physical. Passionate. Which leaked into the real world. After their first time, he skipped forward in time, weeks ahead, so that when she 'woke up' in the next illusion… she was already nine weeks pregnant."
Tom's hands curled slightly against the table's edge, knuckles white.
"He changed the setting to Hogwarts," the Diary went on, tone darkening. "Had her living there with him while he played the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I followed him into the illusion and watched. He did it again. Another night of passion."
A pause. Then the Diary glanced toward the stairs.
"And when he came back to the real world… he realized the bump was still there. Her pregnancy had grown in sync with the illusion. He panicked."
Tom didn't move, but his expression said enough. He looked as if the earth had shifted beneath his feet.
"He left to go shopping," the Diary said calmly, his eyes not leaving Tom's. "To the magical alley tucked here in Albania."
Tom's expression remained unreadable, but his gaze sharpened.
"That's when I came out of the diary," the younger version of him continued. "I took it with me… went upstairs, placed it under the bed. I just— I needed to be close to her. And I couldn't leave, not with the wards tuned to him. Not with her still under the illusion's spell. I wasn't going to risk going on the run while she was still unconscious."
There was a beat of silence before the Diary flicked the wand he'd taken from the Locket the night before. From upstairs, something stirred — a soft metallic rattle. Then, with a faint magical hum, a thick, leather-bound book came floating down the staircase. Its cover bore old, silver lettering, the spine slightly bent from use. A chain trailed behind it, the Locket's Horcrux still bound and glowing faintly green with the remnants of Jess's spell.
It landed gently beside Tom with a soft thud.
"He brought back that spellbook," the Diary explained. "And used it on her. Scanned her, here in the real world. It showed her at nine weeks… with twins."
Tom's breath caught. "T-Twins…?"
Across the table, Nagini had climbed up onto one of the chairs, sitting upright in her little booster seat. She nodded solemnly, her wide eyes glowing with quiet certainty.
"The tapestry at the Kuran estate showed it too," she whispered.
Tom bit his lip, glancing toward the closed bathroom door. "But she looks… bigger," he murmured. "Further along. Why?"
The Diary exhaled slowly, his tone turning grim. "Because he skipped time," he said. "A whole month. She's now fourteen weeks. He advanced the illusion. Let her live out an entire month while only days passed out here."
Tom's hands clenched around the arms of the chair, tension radiating off of him in quiet waves.
"We'll have to ask him why," the Diary said, voice calm but pointed, "once he finally comes out of the bathroom."
Tom didn't answer. His eyes dropped slowly to the book beside him, its pages filled with knowledge, spells, truths — and somewhere within it… a twisted, possessive motive wrapped in the Locket's obsession.
Just as the room began to still, the bathroom door creaked open.
The Locket stepped out slowly, towel over his shoulder, his face pale and drawn. His hair clung slightly to his forehead, damp from the cold water he'd clearly splashed on himself. He looked exhausted — but not just physically. The weight of everything he'd done pressed into his shoulders like stone.
Tom turned in his chair, eyes narrowing as soon as he caught sight of him.
"Come here," he said, voice sharp and quiet. "And sit."
The Locket paused, visibly chewing back whatever retort had been on the tip of his tongue. His jaw worked once, then twice, but no words came. With a slow breath, he obeyed, stepping barefoot across the cabin floor toward the table. He sat down stiffly across from them, eyes flicking up — only to flinch as a mug was slammed down in front of him.
"Nasty Locket," Cherry muttered with venom, popping away toward the kitchen counter with a final glare.
Silence held for a moment, save for the hum of the wards and the crackle of the coffee pot reheating.
Then Tom leaned forward, his fingers laced together in front of him on the table.
"So…" he said evenly, his tone still composed — too composed. "Explain to me."
The Locket blinked, unsure what to say.
Tom didn't give him a chance to escape the question.
"Explain why you would do this to my wife. No — our wife." His eyes narrowed, sharp enough to cut through stone. "Why?"
The Diary said nothing — just sat back slightly in his chair, letting the silence stretch.
All attention now rested on the Locket.
Waiting for him to confess. Or justify. Or both.
The Locket swallowed hard, his fingers curling slightly around the warm mug of untouched coffee. For a moment, he didn't speak. The weight of three identical gazes pressed on him — Tom's sharp and unyielding, the Diary's unreadable but alert, and Nagini's narrowed with quiet judgment from her booster seat.
"I didn't mean for it to get this far…" he finally said, voice hoarse. "I only wanted her."
Tom leaned back slowly in his chair, expression unreadable, a faint edge of coldness in his voice. "To yourself?"
The Locket nodded, shame flickering in his gaze. "She was mine… only mine. I wanted her to choose me and only me."
The Diary huffed, the sound sharp in the quiet cabin. He crossed one leg over the other, brow raised. "That's rich coming from you. You forget I heard your first thoughts. Back when we were all still trapped in the containment room at the Kuran estate — you loathed her. You wanted to get rid of her, destroy her even. You didn't see her as anything but a threat."
The Locket looked up, his jaw tight, fingers twitching where they gripped the mug. "I did. At first."
"Then what changed?" Tom asked quietly, eyes never leaving him.
The Locket hesitated. His eyes flicked toward the floor. "The moment I felt her aura… when she visited with him." He gestured faintly toward the main piece. "Something in me… it reacted. I didn't expect it. I didn't understand it. But I wanted her."
His voice cracked slightly as he continued. "Not out of vengeance. Not just for power. I wanted her because when she was near, I didn't feel fractured anymore. I didn't feel like just a piece." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I felt real."
Tom's eyes darkened, but not with rage — with quiet comprehension. The Diary, meanwhile, said nothing, but the tension in his posture eased slightly as he studied the Locket's expression.
"You didn't love her," the Diary finally said. "Not at first. You possessed her. Like a stolen name in a borrowed world."
"I know," the Locket whispered. "But I do now. I swear it. I know it's twisted… but I do love her."
Tom looked at him for a long, silent moment before replying. "And that's the most dangerous kind of love… the kind born out of obsession."
The Locket had no words. Only silence.
Tom's gaze didn't waver, though his fingers curled slowly around the edge of his coffee mug. Across the table, the Diary leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes narrowed — a perfect mirror of cold calculation with none of the patience.
"You wanted her?" the Diary repeated, voice a low scoff. "You wanted her like a child wants a toy — something to keep. Not love. Not protect. You only changed your mind when you saw how powerful her presence was."
The Locket lowered his head. "At first… I hated her. I saw her as a threat. Something that didn't belong in our life — in my life. I remembered being made. Remembered the curse and the cold, and the only comfort I had was memory — his memory. And in those memories, she was light… and I didn't understand why."
He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "But then I felt her. When she came into the containment room… when she touched the seal on the locket... the moment her magic brushed mine—" he blinked slowly "—it changed everything."
Tom stared at him, unmoved. "You wanted her because you were drawn to her magic."
"I wanted her," the Locket said, his voice growing desperate, "because I felt whole near her. I stopped feeling like a shadow. She made me feel real. And when she called my name in that world — when she kissed me and smiled at me like I was the one she chose — I believed it. I needed it."
"But you knew it wasn't real," the Diary cut in. "And you kept her there anyway. You forced her into an illusion. And when it started to slip, you didn't let her go. You rewrote it."
That quiet statement silenced the room.
The Locket's face crumpled slightly, the raw edge of guilt cutting through his defenses. "I thought I could keep her happy. I thought if I gave her what she wanted — a home, peace, even a baby — she'd stay."
Tom stood slowly, his gaze like fire tempered by steel. "You gave her a prison."
The Locket didn't argue.
He simply looked down at his trembling hands.
"I love her," he whispered. "Even if it's twisted. Even if I ruined everything."
"And that," Tom said coldly, his voice razor sharp, "is the part of me I've worked hardest to outgrow."
His words hung in the air like a curse.
"In that prison you kept her in… you helped create another child inside her. Twins." His fingers tapped once against the table, slow and deliberate. "But to take a whole month from her? To jump her pregnancy from nine weeks to fourteen?" His eyes narrowed, voice hardening. "You didn't just violate her trust. You violated time itself."
The silence that followed was heavy — thick with the weight of guilt and truths exposed. The Locket said nothing, his face pale, jaw locked. The Diary sat quietly, fingers steepled beneath his chin, watching his counterpart without a hint of softness. And Nagini, seated between them in her booster chair, simply sipped from her juice like a silent judge in miniature.
Then — the soft creak of floorboards above.
A moment later, the faint rhythm of footsteps descending the wooden staircase echoed through the cabin. All heads turned.
Jess.
She stepped into view, her long raspberry hair still a bit tousled from sleep. She wore one of Tom's button-down shirts — loose and oversized over the gentle, unmistakable swell of her fourteen-week belly. Her gaze swept the room… and landed on him.
Tom stood slowly from his chair, his expression softening instantly.
"Morning, love," he said gently, voice a balm against the tension.
Jess froze for only a heartbeat — and then her lip trembled.
She all but rushed toward him. Her feet carried her across the warm wooden floor in quick, soundless steps. The others didn't exist in that moment.
Only him.
She climbed onto his lap the moment he sat back down, curling against his chest, arms circling his neck like she needed to prove he was real — solid — there.
"Tom," she whispered against his throat, and it broke something in all of them.
He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. One hand rested instinctively on her back, the other gently on her bump.
"I've got you," he murmured. "I'm here now."
The Diary chuckled, a small smile forming as he leaned back with his mug in hand.
Nagini grinned and whispered loudly, "She always runs to Papa."
But the Locket said nothing. His eyes dropped to the table. His jaw was tight, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He didn't speak, and he didn't look up.
Jess sniffed softly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before sliding off Tom's lap. She offered a bright smile, the first real one of the morning, and turned toward the small kitchen.
"Who wants pancakes, sausages, bacon, and some strawberries?" she asked cheerfully.
Nagini instantly raised her hand with an excited look on her face. "Me!"
The Diary grinned at her, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes. "Mmhmm, me too, love."
Tom smiled, his gaze tender. "I've missed your food… so yes, please, my love."
Jess turned then, her eyes falling on the Locket, who hadn't spoken — hadn't even looked at her. His gaze stayed fixed on the table, distant and unreadable.
Her smile softened. With quiet steps, she approached him and gently rested her hand on his head, fingers brushing through his hair with care. The Locket's eyes widened slightly at the contact, startled.
"You are still a part of Tom," she whispered. "You are him."
He didn't respond, but his body tensed beneath her hand.
Then she looked toward the main Tom, her gaze serious but filled with love. "Don't force him to be reabsorbed. Let him decide on his own. He has to come willingly, or it will hurt you. The Diary… he'll go willingly."
The Diary nodded solemnly, offering no argument.
Tom's expression gentled, his eyes never leaving Jess. "As you wish," he said softly.
Then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the message. His eyebrows lifted.
"It's from Jareth," he said, looking up. "He sent the address and room number. He booked a couple of rooms here in Albania — the Xheko Imperial Luxury Hotel & SPA."
Jess's eyes widened with delight. "Ooo… like a family vacation?"
Tom gave a quiet chuckle and nodded. "Apparently."
The Diary smirked from across the table. "With your permission," he said, glancing at Tom and then back at Jess, "may I spend the vacation with you both… before I return to be reabsorbed?"
Jess smiled at him, her eyes warm. The tension in the room finally began to ease.
Soon, the little cabin was filled with the warm, welcoming scent of breakfast. Buttery notes of pancakes mingled with the sizzle of sausage and bacon, creating a homely aroma that curled into every corner.
The Diary had stepped away for a much-needed shower, the sound of running water echoing faintly from upstairs. Meanwhile, Tom sat calmly at the dining table, the enchanted locket resting around his neck. In his hands was the magical pregnancy spellbook, its pages spread open as he read with sharp concentration.
Across from him, Locket-Tom leaned on his elbow, drumming his fingers restlessly on the wood. His eyes flicked over the book occasionally, but his thoughts clearly wandered — trailing back upstairs, or perhaps even further.
At the kitchen counter, Nagini stood proudly on a little stool beside Jess, who was at the sink rinsing a bowl of strawberries. The little girl's sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and her tiny hands worked carefully under Jess's watchful eye.
"You're doing good, honey," Jess said, her voice soft and encouraging as she reached over to help guide a strawberry to the drying rack.
Nagini beamed up at her, eyes wide and bright. "I'm gonna be a culinary goddess like Mama!"
Jess laughed, her heart swelling. "That's my girl."
The morning had begun with chaos, but now… now it felt like something whole again — not perfect, but real.
And for the first time in a long while, the cabin felt like a home.
The bathroom door creaked open, and the Diary stepped out looking freshly showered. His skin glowed lightly with the heat, and his short-sleeved black set — relaxed and dragon-patterned — clung in just the right way. He sniffed his arm curiously.
"That was a nice shower," he said, rolling his shoulder. "Feels good not to smell like parchment and ink for once…"
Jess turned from the sink, her face lighting up. "Welcome to the world of warm water and soap." As he stepped over, she reached out, and he pulled her into a hug without hesitation, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She smiled against his mouth before kissing him back with just a little more heat.
Tom, still seated at the table with the spellbook open before him, lifted one brow in mild amusement.
Across from him, the Locket bit his lip hard, watching with darkened eyes. "How can you not be jealous of this…?" he muttered under his breath.
Tom glanced sideways at him, expression unreadable. "He is me," he replied calmly. "Just younger."
Jess glanced between them, then turned her amused gaze back to the Diary and Locket. "You know… the Diary and you," she gestured casually, "could pass as twins, kind of. And the Locket…"
She paused, squinting at the older, scowling version of Tom.
"…Looks like the slightly older, constantly grumpy brother."
Tom gave a quiet snort. The Diary grinned.
Jess blinked, suddenly thoughtful. "Oh my god. He reminds me of Sora…"
A beat passed. She frowned. "He didn't come with you, did he?"
Tom shook his head quickly. "No. I refused to bring that brother complex along. It's just your father and Severus. Regulus is keeping Sora calm and grounded back at Grimmauld Place."
Jess sighed. "Bless him."
The Locket glared but said nothing. His mood wasn't improving, especially as the scent of food filled the cabin. Warm butter, crisp bacon, fluffy pancakes, and sweet strawberries wafted through the air like some cruel mockery of peace.
The Diary settled casually into his seat at the table just as Nagini climbed onto her booster chair, beaming with excitement. Her legs swung under the table, eyes wide as she eyed the food with delight.
Jess appeared with Cherry behind her, both carrying full plates — golden pancakes stacked high with a melting pat of butter, fresh sausages, thick slices of bacon, and a bowl of glistening red strawberries on the side.
Jess set the plate down and smoothed a hand over her bump before sitting beside Tom. "Alright," she said brightly, "after we eat, Nagini and I are going to hop in the shower together, then we can all head to the resort."
She looked over at her daughter with a smile, tucking a lock of red hair behind Nagini's ear. "How about it, sweetheart? You and me — girls' spa day?"
Nagini's eyes lit up instantly. "Yes! Can I get the sparkly nail stuff?"
Jess laughed. "You can get the sparkly nail stuff, the fizzy bath bomb, the lavender lotion — whatever you want."
Tom chuckled under his breath, cutting into his pancakes. "Spoiling her already."
"Of course," Jess said without apology. "That's my job. She's earned it."
Across the table, the Locket poked at his food, barely registering the smell or warmth of it. His fingers fidgeted near the fork but didn't reach for it. That maternal glow Jess carried — the light in her voice, the easy way she touched Nagini's curls, the softness in her smile — it wrapped around him like a spell he didn't know how to fight.
Jess turned her head toward him, her voice gentle but firm. "Eat, would you? Please, Tom?"
The name hit him harder than any hex.
His eyes snapped up to meet hers, wide and startled, as if she'd just touched something raw inside him. His cheeks flushed — that unmistakable heat creeping along his cheekbones like he'd been caught doing something forbidden.
"O-Okay…" he stammered.
And then, like he wasn't the most dangerous Horcrux ever made — like he was just some awkward man trying to earn back a place at the table — he reached for his fork and quietly took a bite.
Across from him, all three of them watched: the Diary, Tom, and Nagini. Each with a different reaction.
The Diary smirked into his mug with a knowing look, nudging Tom lightly with his elbow.
Tom raised a brow, clearly amused.
Nagini blinked and tilted her head before whispering, "That was very slytherin of Mama."
Soon after breakfast, the cozy warmth of the cabin lingered in the air as the final dishes clinked softly in the sink. Jess, now freshly showered, stepped out in a light sage green wide-legged jumpsuit that flowed around her ankles like soft water. Layered boho jewelry adorned her neck and wrists, delicate star-shaped charms brushing her skin as she moved. Her hair was still damp, styled into loose waves that framed her glowing, refreshed face. She looked radiant as her 14 week pregnant belly was showing— comfortably dressed for the heat and ready for a calm day ahead.
Nagini followed close behind, dressed adorably in a mint green t-shirt with intricate sequin detailing across the shoulders. Her matching shorts shimmered faintly under the light, and her sandals clicked as she hopped lightly across the wooden floor. Her accessories — black bows pinned into her curls and oversized sunglasses perched on her head — completed her look with a playful, fashionable flair.
Meanwhile, the Locket had changed too. He emerged from the back corner of the cabin wearing a modern light kimono-style jacket embroidered with cranes and floral designs. A white undershirt peeked out beneath it, tucked into cropped black pants that tapered at the ankles. His open-toe black sandals tapped against the floor as he joined the others, his demeanor quieter, more introspective than usual.
Jess couldn't apparate due to the pregnancy, so Tom had flown with her under magical concealment, landing just outside the city. The Diary had carried Nagini by side-along apparition, while Cherry had popped the Locket to the edge of the city where they all regrouped on a quiet roadside.
"Cherry, go ahead and head to the hotel," Tom instructed, adjusting the straps of his green pinstriped shirt as the house-elf nodded and vanished with a soft pop.
Just then, a rumbling yellow taxi van came rolling up the gravel road. Tom raised a hand, and the driver pulled over, parking beside them with a curious look. The door creaked open as everyone began to pile in. Tom took the passenger seat in front. In the back, Jess slid into the center, flanked on one side by the Diary and on the other by a now-silent Locket, while Nagini nestled herself in the back corner with her sandals kicked off and her bows slightly askew.
Tom leaned forward to the driver. "Xheko Imperial Luxury Hotel & SPA."
The van pulled out onto the road with a lurch, the trees of Valbona Valley slowly giving way to the edge of city life as the group set off toward the next chapter of their tangled journey — a strange, unlikely family heading to a resort, with love, pain, and magic between them.
The taxi van pulled up to the front entrance of the Xheko Imperial Luxury Hotel & SPA right at noon. The summer heat of Tirana pressed against the windows, making the chrome finish on the sleek vehicles in the roundabout shimmer beneath the sun. The grand marble steps leading to the entrance were flanked by pristine hedges and statues of winged lions. A uniformed doorman in a crisp white jacket stepped forward to open the van's door.
Tom stepped out first, from the back of the van, Jess emerged next with a small hand on her belly. The sage green wide-legged jumpsuit she wore flowed gracefully with her movements, layered boho jewelry catching the sunlight in soft glints. Her damp raspberry-red waves had been loosely braided at the crown, falling down her back with fresh shine from the shower. The soft swell of her 14-week twin pregnancy was visible now — round and prominent beneath the fabric, shifting her center of gravity just slightly.
She reached up to help Nagini climb out. Oversized sunglasses sat on her nose, and a pastel bow clipped back part of her curly hair. She looked every bit like a child on vacation — except for the fiercely protective spark in her eye as she looked around.
The Diary followed behind, he looked relaxed, almost smug, as he stepped forward with a hand resting casually in his pocket.
Last came the Locket. Still clearly rattled but trying to keep his composure, and the faintest sheen of cologne clinging to him. His hair was carefully swept back, and the binding Parselmagic still shimmered faintly around his neck that looked like a snake tattoo around his neck to muggles and even other magical people besides, Jess and the others. He avoided looking at Tom, or Jess, especially Jess and instead stared hard at the hotel doors.
"Cherry's already in the room, I take it?" Diary murmured, glancing over his shoulder as he approached the doorman.
Tom gave a curt nod. "Jareth texted me that she's already prepping the rooms. Jareth picked the best room for us. Nagini will be bunking with him and Severus as his own room. All three rooms are close to each other apparently."
Jess smiled gently at that, her hand still resting on the side of her belly. "Let's go up and find our rooms. Mhmm three rooms. My husband. Well husbands. Which sounded kind like a polygamy how the way I said it…" He looked Tom, then glanced the Diary and Locket "Will be all staying with me." She says in parselmouth.
Tom extended his hand toward the entrance, voice warm and smooth. "After you, my love."
Nagini giggles "I'm gonna make grandpa spoil me!"
And together — like a strange, surreal royal procession — they moved into the grand lobby, beneath sparkling chandeliers and carved marble pillars, where chilled air and soft music promised a brief sanctuary from everything they'd just endured.
Nagini gasps at the entrance "its so huge and pretty like walking into a castle! Or palace!"
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime on the third floor, and the group stepped out into the tastefully lit hallway. Cream-colored walls with gold accents framed each door, the air subtly perfumed with something luxurious and floral.
Nagini's tiny fingers were curled tightly around Jess's, her sandals softly tapping against the polished floors as they walked. Tom led the way, his posture relaxed but focused. He stopped near the end of the corridor, pointing to each door as he spoke.
"That one there," he said, motioning to the first on the right, "is Jareth and Nagini's room. The one on the left across from it is Severus's. And this one—" he placed a hand on the last door in the row— "is ours."
Before Jess could respond, the door to the first room opened. Jareth stepped out, dressed in a cool grey short-sleeved shirt and linen slacks, a wide smile breaking across his face.
"Oh, my little girl!" he said warmly, stepping forward and opening his arms.
Jess's face lit up, her sage green jumpsuit swaying as she crossed the hallway. She moved into his arms, hugging him tightly.
"Hi, Dad…" she murmured against his chest.
Jareth held her gently, then pulled back just enough to smile down at her. "Your mother's on her way. She should be arriving sometime this evening."
"Grandma!?" Nagini piped up with delight, eyes wide.
Jareth turned to her with a laugh. "Yes, little one," he said, ruffling her curls. "Your grandma's excited to see you too."
He lifted up a set of hotel key cards between two fingers. "These are for you and your... husbands." He chuckled softly at the phrasing.
Jess grinned as she took the key cards from him. "Thanks. That's exactly what it sounds like, huh…"
Nagini tugged at his hand, bouncing in place. "Take me shopping! I want bracelets and snacks!"
Jess laughed and gave a playful wave. "Well go on, Dad. Take her shopping before she drags you down the hall."
Jareth smiled and winked, letting Nagini lead him down the corridor as she babbled about dresses, magic glitter, and pastries. Tom watched them go, then looked at Jess and murmured with a soft smile, "Let's go in."
Tom stepped forward and gently pushed open the door with a click of the card. Cool air welcomed them first, washing over their sun-warmed skin as they entered the Imperial suite. The scent of polished wood, fresh linens, and subtle cologne lingered in the room, a sharp contrast to the summer heat outside.
The lighting was soft and elegant, filtered through heavy baroque curtains that hung beside a grand arched window, which framed the city of Tirana in a golden noon glow. Cream and gold accents ran along the carved molding and furniture, and at the heart of the room stood a regal bed dressed in quilted satin, its headboard tufted and arched with ornate detailing. Plush armchairs rested beside the foot of the bed, and just beyond the glass partition wall, a gleaming clawfoot soaking tub beckoned inside the marble-clad bathroom.
Jess stepped in first, her sandals quiet against the polished floors. Her sage green jumpsuit swayed with each step, the curve of her 14-week baby bump clearly visible now, resting beneath the soft fabric as she exhaled. She brushed her fingers along the edge of a vanity table, eyes wandering with quiet wonder at the luxurious surroundings.
Behind her, the Diary strolled in, arms crossed behind his back, taking in the grand space with a pleased smirk. "Well… not bad," he commented. "I approve."
The Locket followed last. He hovered near the doorway for a moment before entering, his black crane-embroidered kimono-style jacket swaying as he slowly stepped forward. He didn't say anything, but his eyes drifted across the room—from the shining marble floors to the soaking tub, to the bed Jess would be sleeping in. His fingers twitched once at his side.
Tom closed the door behind them with a soft thunk. "Cherry already checked the space," he said casually, walking past them. "Wards are in place. We're safe here."
Jess turned, smiling faintly. "Good. Because after everything, I need a few minutes to just sit down." She moved to the edge of the bed and carefully sat down, placing her hand on her belly with a small, relieved sigh. "My back is already starting to ache a bit…"
Tom was beside her instantly, kneeling slightly as he reached up and gently pressed his hand to her bump, watching her face. "Want me to cast a support charm?" he offered softly.
Jess shook her head, brushing a lock of his dark hair behind his ear. "Not yet. Just… let me enjoy the peace."
From the corner, the Diary leaned against the window frame, his eyes softening. "We made it, Jess."
She nodded. "We made it."
And for just a moment, surrounded by glittering marble, gold fixtures, and sunlight spilling across velvet drapes… it felt like they could finally exhale.
Jess looked at the locket "come here..." the Locket looks at her and steps to her, she takes his hand "No pouting. No brooding. No hate. No Jealousy. Okay? All three of you are mine."
The Locket stared down at her, his posture still tense, but her voice—soft and warm and undeniably hers—made something inside him flicker. The weight of her hand in his felt like a grounding spell, firm but gentle.
His eyes shifted toward Tom, who stood calm and steady beside her, then to the Diary leaning with a smirk by the window—utterly at ease. They weren't mocking him. They weren't pushing him out. They were letting him in.
Jess's fingers gave his a squeeze, drawing his gaze back to her. Her green jumpsuit draped gently over her belly, the visible swell of her growing twins reminding them all of the strange and surreal journey they had just endured. Her expression was clear, commanding without cruelty.
"All three of you," she repeated. "Mine."
The Locket's throat worked around a tight swallow. His lip trembled—but he nodded. Just once. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
The Diary pushed off the window with a grin. "You always did need to be told directly," he muttered with fond sarcasm, striding over and clapping the Locket on the shoulder.
Tom said nothing, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he turned back toward Jess. Her hand was still outstretched between them all, still uniting the three souls that were once scattered.
Jess gave a soft, triumphant smile.
"Good. Now let's enjoy this hotel before I start craving…" Jess paused, her expression faltering slightly. "I didn't even get my pickles or olives last night…" she sniffed softly, her voice small and tinged with emotion.
All three of them blinked at her in unison.
The Diary let out a low chuckle from where he was lounging on one of the velvet-accented armchairs. "Pregnancy cravings and hormones — at the same time. Do you want some now, love?"
Jess nodded, her lower lip jutting in a pout. "Yes. A full jar of both."
Tom smiled, his tone teasing but affectionate. "Regular pickles, or your grandmother's?"
Jess blinked at him, lips twitching. "My grandma's…?"
Tom's eyes twinkled. "Cherry."
At the mention of her name, the little house-elf popped into the room with a soft crack, already dabbing sweat from her brow with a dainty cloth. "Yes, Master?"
Tom gave a nod toward Jess. "Can you get a full, unopened jar of Kuran pickles — cold. And her other stuff?"
Cherry blinked rapidly. "Princess Dawn is bringing Princess Jess's suitcase, as well as the Master's and Little Nagini's. But oh! Princess," she added, beaming suddenly. "I did bring Anubis."
She raised her hand and, with a subtle shimmer of magic, the black-furred feline appeared curled in her arms.
Anubis blinked slowly at the sudden change of scenery and looked up at Jess — then meowed softly.
Jess's breath caught. "Oh my Anubis…"
She stepped forward quickly, scooping him into her arms with trembling hands and hugging him close. "Did Cherry take good care of you?"
Cherry nodded proudly. "Daily brushings, fresh salmon, and nap times scheduled by the stars on the calendar."
The Diary chuckled from the armchair. "She named her cat after the Egyptian god of the afterlife, mummification, and protector of the dead?"
The Locket, still seated near the window, gave the faintest grin. "Fitting. He looks like he'd guard her soul personally."
Jess beamed at all three of them, her arms gently cradling Anubis while her free hand instinctively settled over the curve of her 14-week baby bump. The contentment in the room shimmered — fragile, warm — until a sudden flutter beneath her palm made her gasp.
Her eyes widened. "The three of you — hands. On my tummy. Right now."
They didn't need to be told twice.
Tom, the Diary, and the Locket moved in unison, each placing a hand over the smooth curve of her belly, their fingertips brushing one another as they leaned in. For a heartbeat, everything else stilled. And then…
There it was.
A soft, almost ghostlike movement — not quite a kick, not yet a roll — just a subtle, undeniable shift. Life stirring beneath their hands.
Their eyes widened in tandem, each of them staring down in stunned silence at the gentle swell of her belly, as though they could hardly believe what they felt was real.
Jess's voice was soft, glowing with awe. "Little flutters... Should I really be feeling them this early? With twins?"
The Locket, surprisingly composed, looked up at her and cleared his throat. "The muggle pregnancy book… the one I kind of stole, said you might start feeling fetal movement as early as 13 to 16 weeks in a singleton pregnancy." He hesitated, then added, "But you're unlikely to feel twins move any earlier than 18 to 20 weeks — especially for first-time mothers."
He looked toward the other two, something unspoken in his eyes. "Did either of you grab that book too?"
The Diary nodded casually. "Yup."
Tom's expression had softened into something unreadable — a mixture of wonder, protectiveness, and something deeper that only Jess could truly decipher. His thumb brushed gently over her belly.
And for a long, still moment, they simply stood together — the three versions of one man, and the woman who had somehow become their entire universe.
"Okay, move. I have to pee," Jess announced suddenly, waving all three of their hands away with a firm but amused huff.
They stepped back as she padded across the suite toward the marble-framed bathroom, her movements brisk and purposeful. The door clicked softly shut behind her.
Tom lowered himself onto one of the velvet armchairs near the edge of the bed and exhaled. "Well," he said, voice even, "you two should know — we're all going to be sharing this room. One king-sized bed. With her."
The Diary's grin was immediate and shameless. "Threes—"
"Don't finish that sentence," the Locket snarled, eyes flashing as he cut him off with a sharp look. "You think she could handle all three of us?"
The Diary folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the nearest wall, smirking. "I didn't say she couldn't."
Tom sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Knock it off, both of you."
There was a tense silence for a beat before the Locket rolled his eyes and looked away, clearly sulking. The Diary only chuckled under his breath.
The only thing keeping the atmosphere from boiling over was the gentle hum of the hotel air conditioning and the distant sound of running water from the bathroom. That, and the knowledge that none of this was about dominance — not really. It was about Jess. Always Jess.
And they all knew it.
Jess emerged from the bathroom, one hand rubbing her 14-week baby bump, the other adjusting the hem of her sage green jumpsuit. As she stepped into the room, a cold, unopened jar of pickles suddenly popped into existence on the table with a soft whoosh — courtesy of Cherry, no doubt. Her eyes lit up instantly, and she bit her lip, a tear welling up as the scent hit her.
"Ohhh thank Merlin," she whispered emotionally.
She crossed the room quickly, waving her hand over the jar. The lid spun on its own with a little magical hum and popped free with a soft clink. Without hesitation, she dipped her fingers into the cool brine and pulled out four hamburger pickle slices, popping them into her mouth one by one.
A delighted hum left her lips as she chewed, eyes fluttering closed in bliss. All three Toms — the original, the Diary, and the Locket — watched her in silence for a moment, then exchanged glances, each of them quietly smiling. There was something oddly heartwarming about seeing her so happy over something so simple.
Across the room, Anubis had settled himself on the wide windowsill. The soft breeze from the cracked window ruffled his dark fur as he crouched low, green eyes fixed on a flock of birds fluttering just outside. His tail flicked, then twitched — and then came the chirping. That sharp, quick sound of a cat trying to mimic bird noises.
Tom chuckled under his breath.
"He's hunting without leaving the room," he murmured.
Jess, still munching her pickles, smiled without turning around. "He always does that when he see's birds."
The Diary stepped back and leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching her with an almost dreamy look. The Locket said nothing — but his fingers tapped against his leg, and his gaze lingered on Jess with something deeper than jealousy this time. Longing. Maybe even guilt.
Jess dipped her fingers back into the jar. "These are perfect," she muttered happily. "Exactly what I needed."
And for a brief, quiet moment — surrounded by marble walls, gold fixtures, and the soft hum of a luxury hotel suite — everything was calm.
Tom chuckled softly, his arm draped lazily over the back of the plush velvet chair. "So… where do you want to go first on our lovely first day here, Mrs. Riddle?"
Jess blinked, caught mid-bite with another pickle slice between her fingers. She slowly lowered it back into the jar, her eyes flitting between the three men — her husband, his diary echo, and his soul-split Locket — all watching her like this was the most important decision in the world.
Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. "Uh… do we have any travel booklets on places?" she asked, slightly sheepish. "I wasn't exactly planning for a vacation when I got kidnapped and forced to live in a fake Hogwarts for a month."
Diary-Tom smirked from where he leaned near the minibar. "There should be some pamphlets in that little folder on the desk by the phone. Most resorts like this keep a list of nearby attractions, spas, restaurants, museums, and whatever else boring humans call fun."
The Locket, sitting on the edge of the chaise, tilted his head. "I'd recommend we avoid any crowded areas. You're pregnant, and it's hot outside."
Jess shot him a dry look. "Oh, now you're concerned about my condition?"
Tom raised a brow at both of them and stood, walking toward the marble-topped desk near the window. He pulled open a leather-bound folder and flipped through it, pulling out a thick travel guide pamphlet written in both English and Albanian. "Looks like they've got guided mountain tours, lake cruises, hot springs, artisan shopping districts, and a few private spas…"
At the word spas, Jess's ears perked. "Hot springs?" she repeated.
Tom looked back at her. "I was just about to say, some of the resorts here in the valley have access to secluded mineral pools. Healing properties. Quiet. Private. Cherry already requested a day pass for us at one of them."
Jess placed her pickle jar down and gently rubbed her bump. "That sounds… amazing." Then she paused. "But I do want to go shopping too. Maybe after."
The Diary clapped his hands together. "A morning soak in magical mineral water followed by spoiling our pregnant goddess with trinkets? Now that's a plan."
Tom gave a nod, amused. "Let's make it a slow start. Spa first. Then lunch. Then… we see where the day takes us."
Jess grinned brightly and looked down at her belly, fingers brushing gently across the slight swell. "Hear that, babies? Spa day." Her voice was light and playful, but filled with the kind of affection that made all three of them — Tom, the Diary, and even the brooding Locket — pause to admire her warmth.
Then her eyes flicked upward and a sudden thought visibly crossed her mind. She blinked. "Wait… is it even safe for me to be in a hot spring while pregnant?" Her face scrunched in concern. "Isn't that, like, a bad idea? I read somewhere that overheating's dangerous—"
The room went still for a heartbeat.
Before any of them could answer, a soft pop echoed near the minibar.
Cherry appeared, hands clasped, eyes bright with knowing.
"Bathing in a hot spring during pregnancy can generally be considered safe," she chirped, "but only with certain precautions. Mistress should avoid prolonged exposure to high temperatures. The water must be warm, not hot. The key is to prevent your body temperature from rising above 101°F—"
Jess blinked. "Cherry…"
"—and the soak should be no longer than 10 to 15 minutes at a time," the house-elf continued, ignoring the interruption as she pulled a folded brochure from her apron. "Cherry recommends not the hot springs, but something else just as fun. A cultural night show!"
She flounced over and handed the flyer to Tom.
"Traditional Albanian dancing, music, food, and it's air-conditioned," she added with a wide, proud grin. "Safe. Festive. Family-friendly. And no risk of cooking the little ones."
The Diary chuckled, taking the brochure and flipping it open. "Honestly? This sounds perfect for tonight."
Tom nodded thoughtfully, scanning the page. "Spa tomorrow, then. We'll make sure it's safe and monitored." He looked at Jess, his voice softer. "We're not risking anything with you. Or them."
Jess exhaled, visibly relieved. She looked at Cherry with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Cherry. Okay… spa tomorrow. Cultural show tonight. But I'm still getting a new outfit."
The Locket, still perched by the window, muttered under his breath, "Of course you are…"
Jess smirked without missing a beat. "You don't get a vote until you learn how to smile and not stalk me through illusions. Didn't I say no more brooding? You promised me you will stop. Do we have to leave you behind tonight?"
Cherry snorted with laughter and vanished with another pop.
And just like that, the first day of their strange little Albanian escape began to take shape — one plan, one laugh, and one outfit at a time.
The Locket stiffened, jaw tightening — but Jess was already turning away, sweeping a long curl back behind her ear as she stepped to the wardrobe. The teasing lilt in her voice lingered like perfume in the air, daring him to sulk and lose the moment entirely.
"I promised," the Locket muttered, almost too quietly for anyone to hear — but he wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking at her reflection in the mirror, watching as she placed a gentle hand on her belly again, humming softly to the twins. Something cracked in his chest. Not pain, not exactly. Something older. Something like longing.
"No leaving me behind," he finally said, barely above a whisper. "I'll behave."
Jess, facing the wardrobe, smirked again to herself. "Good. Because we're all doing this together."
Tom and the Diary exchanged a glance from their places on the velvet couch, both wearing matching faint smiles — the kind that came from hearing her voice fill a room again, commanding it without trying.
"Alright," she said with a clap of her hands, spinning around. "I need help picking the perfect 'cultural-show-but-make-it-fashion' look. This is going to be our first real night out since... everything."
Tom leaned back lazily, his voice smooth. "Whatever you choose, you'll be the center of the room."
The Diary winked. "As always."
The Locket sighed. "She already is."
Jess blinked at the suggestion — surprised, yes, but only for a fleeting moment. Then her features softened, lips tugging into a warm and genuine smile that melted some of the tension lingering in the elegant hotel suite.
"Alright," she said, turning toward the man closest to her heart. "Tom, did you bring your wallet?"
Tom gave a curt nod, already reaching toward the inner pocket of his tailored coat — the same one he'd adjusted for the trip, lined in smooth emerald satin and stitched with faint silver threading. He said nothing, but his posture said it all: ready.
Jess's smile brightened, the excitement building in her voice. "All three of us are going out shopping! I do need a new swimsuit."
Immediately, Tom's jaw tensed. He bit his lip, voice low with warning. "No bikini…"
Jess turned her head to give him a playful glare, her hand instinctively falling to her baby bump — the 14-week swell beneath the sage-green jumpsuit she wore now rounding out beautifully. "I could rock wearing one with this tummy," she said with a teasing edge, clearly proud of the two lives growing inside her.
From the corner, the Locket — perched rigidly in a velvet armchair by the window — narrowed his eyes. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his posture screaming tension. "No," he said bluntly, voice stiff with disapproval. "You'd show too much skin."
Tom nodded along without hesitation, his agreement quiet but absolute.
Then both of them turned their attention toward the only one who hadn't spoken yet.
The Diary leaned against the edge of the vanity, one hand tucked lazily into his pocket, the other resting on the polished marble. His eyes trailed over Jess with the practiced poise of a predator, which was not dangerous, but deeply hungry. Slowly, the smirk began to form.
"Sorry," he said at last, tilting his head just slightly. "I was imagining you in very sexy outfits. For us."
Jess's face immediately went red, a blush spreading from the tips of her ears all the way down to her chest. She blinked rapidly. "Is the teen version of you the horniest one?"
Tom groaned audibly, dragging a hand down his face, exasperated but not surprised. "We all are," he muttered. "But yes... he has a lot of pent-up energy."
The Diary offered a lazy shrug, clearly unfazed by the scolding. "I'm the youngest. Can you blame me?"
Jess stared at them, jaw slightly slack, then let out a deep, dramatic sigh. Her palm returned to her belly — a grounding gesture now — fingers splayed protectively across the bump. "I'm pregnant with twins," she said slowly, like she needed to remind them. "And somehow, the three of you are more exhausting than both of them combined."
Tom chuckled, stepping forward. He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then leaned down to kiss her temple with a softness that made her breath catch in her throat.
"But you love us anyway," he whispered.
She sighed again, this time in a tone laced with reluctant affection. Her lips twitched.
"I suppose I do."
The streets of Tirana were just beginning to buzz with midday warmth as the trio walked together beneath the golden sun. Sidewalk cafés were opening their patios, the smell of roasted coffee beans and honeyed pastries drifting into the air. Vendors were setting up carts of fresh fruit and local trinkets along the curbs. Jess walked in the center, her arms relaxed at her sides, fingers brushing lightly over her rounded stomach. Her sage jumpsuit flowed with each step, boho jewelry glinting as the sun bounced off gold and bronze accents.
She looked up, face flushed with contentment. "It's so lively here… I love this."
Tom walked to her left, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning ahead with calm precision — always quietly aware of their surroundings. The Locket trailed on her right, close but careful not to crowd her, his dark eyes occasionally flicking to her with unreadable thoughts behind them. The Diary strolled slightly behind, smirking as he watched them all, arms swinging freely like this was all part of some leisurely date.
Then Jess paused, eyes lighting up at a familiar storefront window.
"Oh — there's Dad and Nagini!"
Across the street, a small boutique glowed with pastel signage and frilly displays. Inside, Jareth stood tall with a look of pure patience as Nagini, eyes sparkling, held up a tiny lavender shirt adorned with glittery butterflies. She was saying something animatedly, and Jareth chuckled, clearly indulging her every whim.
Jess snorted under her breath. "Oh my god, she's going to make him buy the entire store."
Her gaze shifted then — sharp and delighted — toward a bold display just two shops down. Bright swimwear lined the front windows, mannequins in breezy robes and sunhats posed mid-stride on sandy platforms.
"Ooo!" she squealed, pointing. "There's a swimsuit shop. Come on — I want you three to sit while I try some on. I need opinions."
Tom groaned with quiet dread. "So long as it's not a bikini…"
The Locket, serious as ever, gave a firm nod. "No bikinis."
Jess rolled her eyes dramatically, grabbing their wrists and tugging them toward the store. The Diary, however, was grinning from ear to ear.
"Ooo," he purred, already picturing it. "A swimsuit runway just for us. I love this vacation."
As the four of them entered the boutique, the air inside cooled with charm-cooled enchantments, and Jess's eyes were already scanning the racks — ready to stir chaos, laughs, and just a little harmless teasing.
And the boys? They were in for a show.
The boutique doors chimed softly as Jess stepped inside, her eyes immediately locking onto the colorful racks of swimwear lining the bright, airy walls. The smell of fresh cotton and floral body sprays lingered in the air, and the summer heat from outside gave way to a welcome chill of air conditioning.
Without waiting, Jess made a beeline for the swimsuit section, eyes scanning over everything from high-waisted sets to daring two-pieces. She moved like a woman on a mission, one hand protectively over her baby bump as she ran the other through the hanging fabrics.
Behind her, the three walked in — like sin made flesh.
Tom in his tailored shirt and sharp gaze. The Diary with his loose, casual confidence and ever-ready smirk. And the Locket, more reserved, a sleek glamour concealing just enough of his usual dark edge to make him appear like a twin to the others. Together, they moved like a coordinated unit — devilishly handsome, in sync down to their mirrored strides. One store employee glanced up and visibly paused mid-fold, clearly caught off-guard.
Diary wandered toward a rack near the door and plucked a hanger. He held up a deep purple bikini and grinned.
"Mhmm," he mused, eyeing it thoughtfully. "I bet she'd look wicked in this one."
Tom let out a low hum of agreement, folding his arms across his chest. "She does look good in purple…"
The Locket glanced toward the corner Jess had disappeared behind, then back at them with a small sigh. "Only at home in our pool, maybe… Wait — where exactly are you and Jess living now?"
Tom raised an eyebrow at him. "Her apartment. Riddle Manor's long gone. After the mission at the Cup, it was torn down. The new one's being rebuilt — the basement's still being re-dug. Maximus told me there was a safe in the old foundation with a stash of muggle money."
The three leaned subtly toward the changing room area, trying to catch a glimpse. Diary gave a theatrical sigh.
"How are we supposed to see her model these?" he whispered. "We can't exactly sneak back there."
At that moment, a young store worker — maybe nineteen, mop of curls and a name tag reading Ben — glanced up from behind the register. He caught their subtle movements and raised a brow. Then his eyes flicked toward Jess… then back to the three identical, too-perfect men.
"We've got… uh… special couple's changing suites," Ben said, trying not to stare too long. "They're private. Meant for, you know, couples who want feedback on fits…"
Tom tilted his head slightly. Diary's smirk sharpened. The Locket crossed his arms but said nothing.
Ben blinked.
"…Wait. Are you all with her?"
The three of them turned in perfect unison — slow, fluid, and nearly predatory — and gave identical smirks.
Ben's jaw nearly dropped.
"Oh… wow," he mumbled, face flushing scarlet. "She snagged herself triplets…"
Diary chuckled low in his throat.
Tom offered a polite nod.
The Locket raised an eyebrow but didn't correct him.
Ben quickly cleared his throat and gestured toward the back with a flustered grin. "R-Right. I'll get that special room ready for the four of you."
Tom leaned toward the others, voice low. "This'll be interesting."
Diary grinned. "Front row seats to heaven."
And with that, the triplets-in-crime followed the clerk down the aisle, waiting for their queen to begin her runway show.
Jess stood with one hand settled lightly on her bump, the other brushing through the neatly arranged racks of swimwear. The gentle hush of hangers sliding on metal bars filled the air around her. Some were too revealing, others too plain, and none felt just right for what she had in mind. She bit her lip, her eyes scanning for that perfect blend of flattering, stylish, and appropriate-for-possessive-magical-partners.
A voice chimed in gently beside her.
"Hello there! Need any help today?"
Jess turned slightly and found a woman in her early thirties smiling warmly at her — the kind of salesperson who didn't push, just offered. But her eyes flickered almost immediately down to Jess's visible bump.
"Oh yes, actually," Jess said with a smile, brushing her hand over her stomach. "I could use help finding swimsuits that'll fit comfortably and please my three boys over there."
She tilted her head toward the trio by the front, currently leaning on a rack and trying (poorly) to look casual. The saleswoman raised an eyebrow.
"Three?"
Jess gave a mock-dramatic sigh and whispered with a conspiratorial smirk, "They grew up with this very old-fashioned grandmother — robes, modesty charms, the whole thing. So I can't wear anything that shows off too much to the general public. No bikinis, unless I want three different lectures and two brooding fits."
The woman laughed softly, eyes gleaming. "Oh, sweetheart. That's jealousy talking."
Jess chuckled under her breath, her eyes twinkling. "I know. That's why I said I want something cute — but safe. Something that says, 'Yes, I'm taken. But also, yes, I still look fabulous pregnant with twins.'"
The woman's smile widened. "Well, you're glowing. How far along?"
"Fourteen weeks," Jess answered proudly. "Twins."
"Ahh," the woman nodded knowingly. "Alright then. Follow me — I've got a few maternity-friendly suits that are perfect for warm weather and turning heads just the right amount. You'll still look like a goddess — but the kind that belongs to a temple guarded by three handsome warriors."
Jess laughed again, the sound soft and real. "That's exactly the vibe I'm going for."
Together, they walked toward the back racks, the saleswoman pulling a few handpicked suits — supportive halters in soft lavender, ruched one-pieces in sage green, even a strappy dark plum suit with golden stitching that sparkled faintly.
And from across the store, three pairs of red eyes watched… waiting for the show to begin.
Ben returned with a soft knock to the edge of the swimwear aisle, cheeks still tinged with color after realizing exactly who — or rather what — the three men were to Jess. With an eager smile, he motioned for them to follow. "The private cuddle changing room is ready for you all. It's quiet, has velvet seating, and a full-length mirror. Most of our upscale couples request it."
Jess grinned and gave the boys a playful look over her shoulder. "Come on, my royal council of fashion judges."
Ben led them toward the back of the boutique, past racks of elegant swimsuits and pale gauzy robes, until they reached a softly lit room separated by thick golden curtains. Inside was warm-toned wood flooring and a cozy arrangement of French-style furniture — two high-backed white armchairs and a matching curved loveseat gathered in front of a large gilded mirror. A low rug centered the space, giving it the air of a private little theater. An ornate chandelier dangled above like the final touch on a romantic stage.
Jess stepped in first, fingers brushing along the silky fabric of the curtain as she passed through. She let out a pleased hum. "This is perfect."
Ben smiled again and gestured to a nearby rack already filling up with options. "Your consultant pulled some suits already based on what you mentioned. Maternity-friendly and modest, but still… flattering."
Diary dropped onto the loveseat like he owned it, legs spread and eyes already glittering with anticipation. "Mhmm. I'm ready."
Tom settled more formally beside him, crossing one leg over the other, his hand resting on his thigh with cool elegance. "This should be interesting."
The Locket hesitated, but when Jess gave him a look — that look — he moved forward without complaint, settling into a chair with a sigh, hands resting on his knees.
Jess glanced at all three with a spark in her eye. "Stay right there. Behave. I'm trusting you."
Tom smirked. "We'll be angels."
Diary grinned. "Speak for yourself."
The Locket gave a grunt, but his gaze didn't waver from her.
Jess disappeared behind the curtain with a soft swoosh of fabric, and the room fell into a held breath of anticipation. The chandelier's light sparkled above them, casting soft glows over the polished mirror as if the whole room was waiting to applaud her first reveal.
The curtain whispered open.
Jess stepped out in the first swimsuit, a two-piece with a soft retro flair. The halter-style top was printed with cheerful white daisies and little green stems, hugging her curves and offering the right support across her chest. The high-waisted bottoms in a rich green cradled her 14-week baby bump perfectly, the gentle ruching across the front flattering her figure rather than hiding it. The roundness of her belly was evident and embraced, the suit clearly chosen with both comfort and charm in mind.
Her hair, still softly curled from earlier, fell around her shoulders as she walked forward barefoot across the wooden floor, her cheeks slightly flushed. She stopped a few steps from the center rug and placed a hand on her hip, lifting a brow.
"Well?" she asked, fighting a smile. "Do I look like your garden goddess or a vintage milkmaid?"
Tom was the first to react, his expression unreadable for a beat—then a slow, approving nod. "You look lovely. The color draws the eye exactly where it should."
Diary leaned forward with a wide grin, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Adorable. Tempting. A little tease wrapped in springtime. I'd vote yes."
The Locket said nothing for a moment. His gaze trailed over the fabric, over the bump, then to her flushed cheeks and the confidence she wore so well. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
"…It suits you. You look like yourself. Just more… maternal."
Jess blinked, a little caught off guard by the gentleness. Then she softened, stepping closer and turning just slightly to show the full view.
"You all approve then?" she asked with a tilt of her head.
The curtain slowly pulled back again, and Jess stepped forward—this time with a more elegant air, her hips swaying just a little with each step.
The second swimsuit was a structured one-piece in a delicate pastoral print, the pale cream fabric kissed with soft green countryside scenes. The boning along the bust gave it a corset-like effect, making her silhouette appear even more graceful while offering gentle support. A matching wrap skirt tied at her side, swishing softly around her legs as she moved. The high slit on the skirt revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her thighs with each step, and the fabric draped gently around her rounded bump, the sash above it cinched with perfect taste.
Her hand lifted to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear as she turned in a soft spin.
"Well? Do I look like I'm about to be painted in some romantic art gallery?"
Tom, still seated, adjusted his posture as his gaze lingered on her—thoughtful and appreciative. "You look like a royal muse," he said finally. "Like someone carved into stone and blessed with life."
The Diary gave a low whistle and tilted his head. "Okay… yeah, I take it back. This one might be the one. It's like you're on the cover of a vintage romance novel."
The Locket tried—he really did—not to react too strongly. His mouth opened as if to protest something, but no words came. His jaw shifted slightly as he stared at her, then finally muttered under his breath, "…it's modest. Graceful. Still too perfect."
Jess blinked, clearly hearing that last part. She smirked at him. "You're not mad I'm showing skin… you're mad I look good while doing it."
Diary snorted with laughter, tossing a pillow at the Locket.
Jess turned slightly, placing a hand on her bump and letting her smile grow soft again. "One more. Then I pick the winner." She disappeared behind the curtain with a playful twirl, the curtain swaying behind her like a tease.
The curtain pulled open a final time—and this time, Jess stepped out wearing a bold black one-piece with crisp white symbols arranged like a ritual circle. Sigils, crescent moons, and pentagrams decorated the fabric, and the unique high-cut design with cross-back straps gave the swimsuit a confident, edgy energy. Gothic, witchy, unapologetically her.
It hugged her curves like a tailored spell, the material stretching just enough over her 14-week baby bump to accentuate it rather than hide it. The pattern curved along her belly in a way that felt protective—like the runes themselves were warding the twins inside.
She turned slightly to the side, hands resting on her lower back as her belly pushed forward proudly.
The Diary let out a low whistle again. "Okay. That's it. That's the one."
Tom exhaled through his nose, arms crossed, but his eyes didn't leave her. "You look… powerful. Like a gothic goddess."
Even the Locket, who had been holding back most of the time, didn't have a sarcastic comment this round. His eyes were fixed on her as though spellbound, lips slightly parted. He eventually muttered, "You look like yourself in that one. Not a model. Not a fantasy. Just you."
Jess's smile turned warmer, softer, glowing like the midday sun outside. "Good. Because I feel like myself in it."
Then she winked. "And it has full coverage, see? Not a bikini."
The Diary raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. We were wrong. You win."
Tom nodded in approval. "We'll take it. And get it in her size before she grows again."
Jess laughed, resting one hand protectively over her baby bump as she stood just outside the curtain, her voice playful. "That might be in a week. However… I have one more just for you three. Something I'd only wear at our own pool, if we decide to stay somewhere with one while the new Riddle Manor is being rebuilt."
The Diary's eyes widened immediately, leaning forward like he was about to witness divine revelation. "Oh my god… show me." He licked his lips without shame, already bracing himself.
Jess's grin turned downright wicked. She stepped back behind the curtain with a teasing sway in her hips, her laugh echoing off the polished floor of the private changing area. "Behave," she called over her shoulder, amused, "or I'll pick something with ruffles just to spite you."
Tom chuckled, shaking his head. "She would, too."
The Locket said nothing, but his gaze remained fixed on the closed curtain. His jaw was clenched tight, and though he wasn't speaking, the anticipation was clearly eating him alive. The glamour Tom had placed on him made the three of them look like devilishly handsome triplets, and the synchronized tension in the room only amplified that illusion.
The curtain eased open.
And then she stepped out.
The bikini she wore was bold, unapologetically striking—black and white occult patterns traced across the fabric like ancient spellwork. Symbols of crescent moons, alchemy, and other arcane markings decorated the top and bottom. The triangle-cut halter top cupped her breasts with confident support, while the low-rise bottom hugged her hips and sat just under the curve of her 14-week pregnancy bump, proudly revealing her full, rounded belly. Every movement of hers exuded quiet strength and radiant femininity.
Her red waves fell in soft, glossy layers down her back. She stood with one hand on her hip and the other gently stroking her bump. "Well?" she asked with a smirk. "This one's definitely just for you three."
The Diary made an outright strangled noise, mouth slightly open. "That's—Jess, that's not fair—"
"I can and I did," she purred.
Tom rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled hard. "This is not for public use. At all."
"I agree," the Locket muttered, refusing to look directly at her. His voice was hoarse. "This is dangerous…"
Jess twirled slowly, shamelessly. Her laughter was low, victorious. "So?" she asked again, head tilting. "Do I get your approval or not?"
The Diary groaned into his hands. "You get everything. All of it. My loyalty, my wand, my soul—take it."
Tom simply muttered, "We're buying that one, but you are only allowed to wear it within magically sealed privacy wards."
The Locket muttered something about needing to sit down.
Jess grinned, gave one final wink, and slipped back behind the curtain. "Hope you're all ready for what comes next. Smug, pregnant, swimsuit-loving wife included."
And none of them had a single coherent thought left after that.