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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SNOWFLAKES TWIRLED IN THE AIR, DRIFTING LAZILY DOWN FROM THE HEAVENS, EACH ONE UNIQUE AND DELICATE AS IT SETTLED ON THE GROUND.
The world outside was covered in a thick blanket of white, untouched and serene, with the occasional sound of distant church bells echoing through the night. Inside the cozy cottage, however, there was warmth—a warmth that emanated not just from the crackling fire in the hearth but also from the love shared between the two people within its walls.
Rosie sat nestled in the corner of the plush, oversized couch, her legs tucked beneath her, a woollen blanket draped over her lap. She watched the flames dance in the fireplace, their flickering light casting a soft, golden glow across the room. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the blanket, her thoughts far away as she cradled a warm mug of hot cocoa between her hands. The rich aroma of chocolate and cinnamon filled the room, mingling with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree that stood proudly by the window.
This Christmas was different from any she had ever experienced before. It was her first Christmas spent with Tom outside of Hogwarts, and more importantly, it was their first Christmas knowing they were going to become parents. The thought of the tiny life growing inside her filled Rosie with a mixture of awe, excitement, and an undercurrent of trepidation. So much had changed in the past few weeks, and while she still wasn't entirely sure she was ready for this new chapter of her life, the love she felt for both Tom and their unborn child gave her the strength to face the unknown.
Tom was in the kitchen, humming softly to himself as he prepared their hot cocoa, a task he had insisted on taking over from Rosie. She smiled to herself, listening to the gentle, melodic sound of his voice as he worked. He had been different ever since they found out about the baby. There was a tenderness in his actions, a gentleness that hadn't always been there before. He was still Tom—strong, enigmatic, ambitious—but there was something more now, a layer of softness that had begun to emerge as he embraced the idea of becoming a father.
"Tom, you've been at it for ages. Do you need help?" Rosie called out, her voice teasing as she craned her neck to see what he was up to.
"Patience, my love," Tom replied with a chuckle, his voice warm and affectionate. "I'm almost done. Just adding the finishing touch."
