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|| WOUNDS || CHAPTER 34
THE NIGHT HAD FALLEN COLD and eerie, its silence broken only by the distant sound of wands firing in the heart of the battle.
The clash between the followers of Voldemort and the Order of the Phoenix had escalated quickly, with curses flying and shadows moving with deadly intent.
Tom Riddle—no longer the boy he once was, but the wizard he had vowed to become—was at the center of it all.
His followers, loyal and ruthless, fought beside him, the very air thick with the dark magic they had mastered.
But it was a different kind of war than the one they had fought in secret. Now, it was real—there were no more whispers, no more subterfuge. Tom was leading his forces openly, determined to leave his mark on the wizarding world.
The battle raged, and though they had the upper hand, it came at a price.
Tom's robes were torn, his face smeared with blood—his own, though there was no shortage of others. His left arm had a deep gash, and he limped, his steps slow and heavy.
The darkness of the night surrounded him as he made his way toward home, his body weary, his heart heavy with the weight of the war he knew he could never truly escape.
When he reached the door of their small, quiet house, it creaked open on its own.
Nyx had been waiting for him. She always did, despite the worry that had begun to grow inside her every time he left. She couldn't bear the thought of him going into these fights, knowing the toll they took on him and yet there was no stopping it.
He had his path, and she had hers.
But tonight, seeing the blood on him—seeing him broken in ways she could feel even before he spoke—was different.
Tom barely had time to step inside before Nyx was on him, her hands gentle but trembling as she touched his face, the concern in her eyes so fierce it almost hurt.
"Tom!" she gasped, her voice filled with desperation. "What happened? You're hurt."
He stood in the doorway, not answering immediately. His usual mask of calm had cracked, and the exhaustion and pain in his eyes were raw.
"It's nothing," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just a few scratches."
"Don't lie to me.", Nyx snapped, her hands moving to his chest, trying to push him inside. "You're bleeding. You're in pain. Sit down."
Her voice had an edge to it, but behind it was pure concern. She had seen him hurt before, but not like this. Not with that defeated look in his eyes.
"Nyx, I'm fine," he tried again, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips, but it lacked its usual confidence. "It's just—"
"I said sit down," she interrupted firmly, her tone brokering no argument. She guided him to the couch, her hands now shaking as she helped him remove his robe. Beneath it, his skin was bruised and scratched, blood staining his shirt.
"You're not fine, Tom." She spoke quietly now, her voice softening, but her resolve unshakable. "I've told you, you can't keep doing this. Not like this. You need to stay safe—"
"I can't afford safety," he whispered, cutting her off. "You know that."
She paused, her eyes softening for a moment before they narrowed, frustration flashing across her face.
"You will stay safe, Tom," she said, her voice firm and loving in equal measure. "And from now on, I attend to these injuries. No more trying to pretend that you can just walk away unscathed. We'll heal you together, but only if you let me help."
He looked at her for a long moment, his breath shallow. She was right. She always was. And yet, the stubbornness that had been so ingrained in him for years made it hard to accept.
"Nyx—", he began, but she cut him off again, her fingers already moving to undo his shirt, revealing the deeper gashes on his side.
"No more. I won't let you do this alone," she said, her voice steady despite the worry in her eyes. "You are not alone, Tom. You never have been."
He finally met her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of everything—the battles, the darkness, the inevitable war—seemed to lift, if only a little. Her hands were gentle as she worked, but there was power in the way she cared for him. Her fingers traced over the injury, healing spells whispered under her breath, her care as fierce and unyielding as his own.
When she had finally tended to the worst of the wounds, Nyx collapsed next to him on the couch, her exhaustion catching up with her.
"Tom," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know how much more of this I can handle."
He reached out, his hand finding hers, squeezing it gently. He didn't know what to say. His instinct was to protect her, to shelter her from this world they were both ensnared in, but he knew it was futile.
"I don't want you to worry, Nyx," he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. "But I can't change who I am. I can't turn back now."
"I don't want you to turn back," she said, her words cutting through the tension like a breath of fresh air. "I just want you here. I need you with me, Tom."
The silence between them grew heavy. He wasn't sure what to say next, how to make her understand the fear that always lingered in the back of his mind. The fear of losing her. The fear of losing himself.
"I love you," he finally whispered, his voice raw. "More than anything, Nyx. Please, don't doubt that."
Nyx's eyes softened. She leaned in, pressing her lips gently to his, tasting the salt of his sweat and the bitterness of blood on his skin. She pulled away, her hand cupping his cheek.
"I love you too, Tom," she said quietly. "And I'll always love you, even when you don't think you deserve it. But let me help you. Let me help us."
Tom closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers again. "I promise you, Nyx. I won't let you go through this alone. I can't."
As the night deepened, they sat in silence, the weight of the world outside their door pressing in on them. But in that small room, with the fire flickering quietly and the soft sound of Selene and Apollo's distant cries echoing from upstairs, they knew, despite the darkness surrounding them, that they had each other.
