Rosie ⎮ Tom Riddle

Forty Six

Lily

10 months later

  Happiness was a strange emotion, Rosalie had come to learn. No matter the weight of tragedy or the suffocating grip of fear, happiness had a way of creeping back into your life, stealthily weaving itself through the cracks of sorrow. It never stayed long, but it came back, time and time again, to take her mind off the worst of things.

  Tom had gotten what he wanted in the end, and now, here they sat together, a picture of what could almost pass for peace. The lake stretched out before them, still and serene, reflecting the golden hues of a late afternoon sky. Rosalie, nine months pregnant, rested beside him, her hands gently cradling the curve of her swollen belly. The quiet around them was almost eerie; they had never seen any birds settle by the lake, and sometimes they wondered if it was haunted, like so many things tied to their world.

  Tommy, their little boy, sat on Tom's lap, his small fingers plucking absently at the grass in the comfortable silence that enveloped the three of them. The boy leaned against his father's stomach, utterly content, the calm broken only by the occasional giggle as Tom would toss him a few centimetres in the air before pulling him back into his arms. Rosalie watched the scene with a soft smile, her heart swelling with the kind of happiness she had thought was beyond her reach.

  Tom's gaze lingered on her before shifting back to their son. He leaned down and whispered something in Tommy's ear, his words a soft hiss in that familiar, serpentine language—Parceltongue. Rosalie caught the smirk on Tom's lips and couldn't help but roll her eyes.

  "Is Daddy whispering secrets in your ear, Tommy?" she teased, reaching over to tickle her son gently. "What is he saying?"

  Tommy's giggle erupted into laughter as Rosalie's fingers danced across his small frame. Tom watched them both with a tender smile, the love in his eyes clear, even in this brief moment of teasing.

  Rosalie kept up her gentle tickling until Tommy, trying to catch his breath between his giggles, finally relented. "He said to tell you how beautiful you looked!" the boy exclaimed, his innocence glowing in every word.

  Rosalie's playful gaze turned to Tom, and she nudged him lightly with her elbow. "You know I hate it when you speak to him in your secret snake language."

  Tom chuckled. "Parceltongue, my love. And as this boy is the new heir of Salazar Slytherin, I would think you'd be more proud than annoyed that our son can understand it just as I can."

  She arched a brow. "Well, I like knowing what you're saying..."

  Tom gently set Tommy to the side and pulled Rosalie into a warm embrace, wrapping his arms around her from behind. The weight of her pregnancy made her lean into him with ease, but as she did, a sharp cough escaped her lips. Tom's expression shifted, his voice soft with concern. "Acting up again?"

  Rosalie waved him off, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's nothing. Only a lingering cold. I'm sure it'll go away soon." She held her forearm instinctively, forgoing the itch that it caused her to feel, the mark covered and concealed with a charm Tom had yet to learn about 

  He placed a hand on her stomach, his other resting at the curve of her back. "But you know..." He broke the silence of Rosalie's own thoughts. "I really did tell him that you're beautiful. The most beautiful thing in the world."

  Rosalie snorted lightly. "Yeah, wait until you see me giving birth," she said, half-joking, half-nervous about the day that was fast approaching.

  Ignoring her teasing, Tom picked Tommy up again, holding him close and giving him a nudge. "Go on, tell Mummy how beautiful she is."