Tom Riddle, the son of the Dark Lord, has always been burdened by the weight of his lineage, destined to follow in his father's footsteps as the heir to a reign of terror. Yet, in Rosie Hart, he found a glimmer of hope-a love that made him dream of...
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WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES MENTIONS OF PARENTAL ABUSE. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.
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IT WAS THE END OF SUMMER.
And the salty breeze of the seaside had long become a familiar comfort to Rosie and Genevieve Hart. The two sisters had spent the better part of their break on the beach, soaking in the sun and allowing the constant crash of waves to lull them into a rare sense of peace. Genevieve, with her naturally tan skin, had freckled from the sun's attention, while Rosie had deepened into a warm tan. Their mother had made several disapproving remarks about Rosie's bronzed skin, commenting that she now looked "too wild" and "unladylike," but Rosie couldn't care less. For once, the sun's warmth made her feel alive, like the person she had always wanted to be, far away from the restrictions of her parents' house.
She had also spent a lot of time reading on the beach, usually on the soft towel beneath the umbrella while Genevieve ran off into the waves. Tom ha sent her several letters during the break, each one more comforting than the last, and in one of them, he had recommended a few books for her to read. Rosie had dutifully picked them up, gratefully for something to occupy her mind as she lay in the sun. In fact, she had become so immersed in one of Tom's recommendations that, now on her final night before returning to Hogwarts, she found herself curled up in bed, the book still open in her hands.
The house was quiet tonight, a stillness that felt almost eerie. Tomorrow, she, Genevieve, and their brother Oliver would all be leaving for school, but tonight, Rosie had one last moment to herself. The excitement that had buzzed around the house for the last few days had settled, leaving Rosise with a strange sense of dread she couldn't quite place.
As the hours ticked by, Rosie's throat grew dry, and she finally decided to get up for a glass of water. She carefully slipped out of bed, casting a glance at Genevieve, who was fast asleep in the bed across from her. Genevieve's face was peaceful, her lips slightly parted as she snored softly. Rosie couldn't help but smile at the sight of her little sister.
With a quiet sigh, she crept out of the room, making sure not to wake Genevieve. As she passed Oliver's room, she peeked inside to see him fast asleep, sprawled out across his bed. Rosie felt a pang in her chest. Things with Oliver hadn't been great lately, and she couldn't figure out why. They hadn't spoken much over the summer, despite Rosie's efforts to spend time with him. He had always seemed distant, avoiding her, and it hurt more than she wanted to admit.
