Northern Crown [t.r]

Chapter Tweleve

Delilah had woken up to yelling, Harry and Ron's voices carrying through the floor boards as Hermione told them what had happened.

She groaned, burying her head in her pillow and Tom also made a grunt of annoyance, pulling her body close to his.

"Should we?—"

"Leave it," his voice was rough with sleep, exhaustion tugging at his limbs since he had finally been able to rest in a bed.

However, not a moment later the door burst open now with a broken lock and a fuming Harry stumbling into the room followed by Ron and Hermione.

"Delilah I'm--" Hermione started but Harry cut her off as he stormed forward.

Rage in his eyes doubled at the sight of them in a bed together as he then grabbed hold of Delilah, dragging her out of the sheets with a vice like grip on her arm.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He shouted, his jaw clenched and she winced at the pain shooting through her arm.

"You left without telling us, taking him with you and then you somehow fuck up so bad that You-Know-Who knows you're alive?"

"Harry-"

"He could find out about Tom at any moment now thanks to you."

"It was my idea!" Hermione cut in, trying to march her way forward but Ron held onto her elbow.

"I don't give a damn whose idea it was, you never should have left." He bit, yanking her closer again. Neither realized Tom was behind him in a moment.

Arm wrapping around Harry's neck while his other hand held the top of his head, looking wholly prepared to snap his neck.

"Hands off," Tom's voice was low.

  Watching how Delilah's brows furrowed in pain and her arm was turning red.

Ron went to surge forward, but with the flick of his head the ginger was thrown back into the wall.

"Harry no one recognized Tom," Delilah tried as calmly as she could. Sending Tom a warning glance, not seeing how him holding Harry in a headlock would help their situation.

The green eyed boy didn't seem to care, letting go of Delilah and twisting in Tom's hold. The moment he was free his wand was out and pointed at his chest.

"Harry stop it!" Hermione tried again.

Barely anyone had time to blink before Tom muttered something, a faded red light glowed for a moment before Harry's wand was ripped from his hold and flew into Tom's hand.

"Enough." His voice was sharp as he glared at Harry, his eyes as dark as spilled ink. "If you could get your emotions under uncontrol it'd be greatly appreciated, now—" he twirled Harry's wand around his fingers.

"Unless he decides to raffle throughout that woman's mind, we should be fine. I recognize that's putting faith in very little, but it's all we've got to hang onto at the moment."

"Bellatrix didn't recognize you?" Ron asked Tom as Hermione yanked her elbow out of his hold.

Tom turned to look at him with a brow raised, "how would she? According to the books, hardly anyone knows of my past identity, let alone my name."

"Well actually," Hermione said in a quick breath, having to reel herself in as his eyes connected with hers. "Dumbledore sort of told the entire school what your name was in sixth year."

"Lovely," he muttered. However, that still didn't mean people knew what he looked like. And there were loads of people named Tom... it was a pathetic thing to hope for but he couldn't afford to over think it at the moment.