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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DECEMBER 22ND.
The day Rosie had been dreading for weeks had finally arrived, bringing with it a cold, gnawing sense of dread that refused to let her breathe. The world outside was cloaked in a thick blanket of snow, each flake drifting down from the sky like a reminder of the inevitable passage of time. Inside the Hogwarts Castle, the festive cheer of the holidays was palpable. Twinkling lights adorned the towering Christmas tree in the Great Hall, and garlands of holly and ivy wound their way around the banisters and doorways. The sound of laughter and carols echoed through the corridors, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within Rosie.
She had known this day would come. The certainty of it had haunted her for weeks, a looming shadow that darkened every moment of joy she might have otherwise experienced. But knowing did nothing to soothe the tight knot of anxiety that had taken permanent residence in her chest. Her parents had been very clear in their letters: she was to return home for Christmas. It wasn't a request, it was an order. Their words had been sharp, the ink on the parchment as cold as the snow outside. They had even sent a reminder owl a week ago, as if she could possibly forget the orders she knew she was purposely defying.
Rosie had made her decision, though. She wasn't going home.
It wasn't an easy decision to make. The reasons behind it were complex, tangled up in fear, resentment, and a desperate longing for independence that her parents would never understand. They were strict, controlling even, and Christmas at home was always a suffocating affair filled with rigid expectations, stifling formality, and inevitable disappointments. The thought of it made her stomach churn. Each holiday was the same — a meticulously planned ordeal where every word, every action, was scrutinised and judged. There was no warmth, no joy, only the cold, unyielding pressure to meet standards she could never quite reach.
But the consequences of defying them ... those were the unknowns that kept her awake at night, heart pounding in the quiet darkness of her dormitory. Rosie could almost hear her mother's icy voice in her mind, sharp and unforgiving when she discovered that her daughter had disobeyed. The disappointment in her father's eyes would cut even deeper, a silent condemnation that would stay with her long after the holidays had passed. They would be furious, no doubt about it, and the repercussions would be severe. She could already feel the weight of them pressing down on her, suffocating her in a different way.
