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Set In Stone	By : ANONYMONSTER Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 2876 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or its characters, and I do not make money off of these stories.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
CHAPTER FIVE

In and Out of Love

Willow had never been to Knockturn Alley before. She'd heard a lot of stories about it, though, and as she stepped into the alley, she shook with fear. It didn't help that Abraxas Malfoy accompanied her. He must have had his son question me, she realized, remembering the young Lucius Malfoy. Willow looked over her shoulder at Abraxas. He looked very much like his son. Pale skin, sharp blue eyes. Only his hair was not as fine as Lucius'. That must have come from his mother.

"Why are you staring at me?" Abraxas asked, catching Willow studying him.

"I just... You are so very attractive." Willow said, pushing aside her fear to try and set her plan into motion. Hopefully the Mrs. Malfoy was long gone- or ugly. Willow could work with either.

"Well, I always did have a way with the witches," Abraxas bragged, a small blush forming on his cheeks. He seemed to like the attention, and Willow figured she could use that to her advantage.

“Oh, I do not doubt that, Mr. Malfoy. You must have had them fumbling over their cauldrons for you. I bet you still do.” Willow smiled seductively, allowing Abraxas to catch her glancing a little lower than she should have been.

“Please, call me Abraxas.” He drawled, letting his eyes linger over her body in turn.

“Abraxas... It's such a powerful name,” Willow said in the most mature, sultry voice her nineteen-year-old vocal chords would allow. “Did you know that the name Abraxas was often carved on ancient stone amulets? It was a name with such power that engraved on the amulet with it would be a Basilisk, or a Chimaera.”

“Is that so?” Abraxas grinned, his ego beginning to build up rather nicely.

“I've always liked large snakes,” Willow whispered, stepping closer to Abraxas.

“Would you like to pet mine?” Abraxas asked, sliding his hands around Willow's hips.

“Oh, I would like very much to... But not here. Could you go and find us an inn? I'll go buy us a few things to make things... fun.”

Abraxas paused, his attraction towards Willow battling with his loyalty to the Dark Lord. He knew that he was not supposed to leave Willow's side, yet the stirring in his loins urged him to go find a room. “I'll be quick,” he promised, running his hand over Willow's rump and giving it a firm squeeze before he left her on her own.

Willow sighed in relief. “Ahh, finally. I suppose you can only be born with one of two things. A brain, or a penis...” Willow giggled softly before she continued through Knockturn Alley, trying her best to blend in with the umbrageous witches and wizards that skulked the streets. First, she bought a beautiful dark cloak, throwing it over her shoulders and pulling the hood up to hide her face. She was certain that Tom would have spies all over, and she couldn't risk being seen. Willow tucked her bag of galleons into the endless pocket that was sewn into her cloak and scanned the shops. “Kitty's Cauldron- for all your deceitful needs... Well, it's worth a shot.”

Stepping into the shop was like going from creepy… to creepier. The shop smelled, but it was not a smell Willow could recognize. If she had to use any word to describe the smell, she would not hesitate to say 'evil'. She knew that it was insane- evil wasn't a smell, but that was what came to mind when she breathed in the fumes from the shop. There were two windows, one on either side of the door. Spiders, bats and rats alike lived in the shop. There were puddles of spilled potions here and there. They must have been dangerous, as all of the little critters seemed to go out of their way to go around them. Willow did the same, making sure to pick up her cloak so that it didn't pick up anything from the dirty floor. Reading the labels on the potions, Willow was shocked. Tardus Homicidium- for a slow death. Purus Cruciatus- for pure torture. Venenosa Sanguis- turns blood into poison. Willow had never heard of any of these potions. She nearly jumped out of her cloak when she spotted the decrepit old witch standing a few feet in front of her. “Hello,” Willow said, slowly walking over to the woman. She had approximately ten strands of shriveled grey hair. Her eyes were covered in a milky film so thick that Willow couldn't tell which color her eyes were. Her nails were black, her skin was yellow, and her breath smelled worse than her potions. “Are you... Kitty?”

“Kitranthia Woodlum,” She said with a slow nod. “You are not from these parts, are you?”

“I-”

“Do not bother with excuses, child. I am too old and tired to care anymore,” she said, hobbling towards a long, dirty counter at the back of the shop. “Why, in my younger days I'd have taken your hair. Perhaps your blood. You are a Gaela, are you not? I can tell. Such a nice smell you have...”

Willow tried to control her shaking. She can smell me? Willow forced herself to follow the woman.

“So, what is it you want? I can give you a potion to explode someone's heart- or perhaps you would like a potion to steal all of their years and make them as old and crippled as I am?” The woman's laughter was weak, and ended in a round of coughing.

“I just need a sleeping-draught.”

Willow couldn't see much of the woman's eyes, but she was most certainly glaring at her.

“Such simple things are beneath me.”

“I'll give you a lock of my hair,” Willow offered. “Please, Kitranthia...”

“Let me touch it.”

Willow bit her lip. She really didn't want 'Kitty' to touch her hair, but she needed the potion- it was the key item for her plan. She lowered her hood and stepped closer to the woman, kneeling down in front of her. Willow cringed when she felt the woman's cold, bony fingers run over her hair, but she managed to settle herself down enough to let the woman examine the strands.

“Yes, so soft... very rich. You are fifty-six, I see. Only half Gaela, but I can work with that.” The woman grasped Willow's hair with one hand, and took her wand in the other, using magic to cut a thick lock of Willow's hair. “I can make you a potion to make your hair grow back, but it may not take effect for a while. I do not know how my potions will fair with you. But for that... I'll need a tear.”

“I cannot manage a tear just like that!”

Kitranthia laughed darkly as Willow stood up. “You do not have to, my dear. I can do it for you!” The woman reached up and grasped Willow's head, pressing her nails into her skull.

“Ouch! That isn't going to work-”

Willow blinked as the world shifted. She looked around her as her head began to settle. The woman was gone, and Willow was alone in a beautiful room, decorated with antique Victorian furniture. The walls were a warm burgundy and were lined with ornate picture frames. Stepping closer to one of the pictures, Willow saw herself in the arms of a man who looked very familiar, but couldn't possibly be-

“Good evening, Mrs. Riddle.”

Willow turned around as she heard the voice. It definitely belonged to the man she was thinking about, but it, like the picture, was different. There stood Tom, carrying a bouquet of red roses. It was definitely him. It had to be. He had the same, dark hair, the same deep eyes, the same figure. But at the same time, it wasn't him. He had a genuine smile, his eyes were soft and full of fondness for the woman he was gazing upon, and his posture was welcoming. “M-my Lord?”

Tom quirked his brow and chuckled softly. “Lord? What are you going on about?” Tom handed the roses over to Willow before he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Unless this is a game you want to play,” Tom said with a toothy grin. “My Lady,” he said in a husky voice, bowing and taking Willow's hand to place another soft kiss upon it. Willow stood motionless, Tom's actions taking her by surprise. When she didn't react, Tom stood up straight, worry clear on his face. “Are you alright, Will?” Tom's eyes suddenly filled with realization and his eyes shot down to look at something in front of Willow's stomach. “Is it the baby?”

“Mommy, are we playing statues? Why didn't you tell me?!”

Willow's gaze shifted to the small child who had just entered the room. She had long, dark hair the same color as Tom's, and bright green eyes that reminded Willow of her own. Suddenly, she realized what was happening, putting all of the pieces together. 'Good evening, Mrs. Riddle', 'Is it the baby?', 'Mommy, are we playing statues?'. “T-Tom..?”

“I am right here, love. Do we need to go to the hospital? I know we can't apparate, but if we're careful we can use the brooms. Oh, but the brooms aren't strong enough for the three of us, you can't ride like that, there's no one to watch Thalia-”

“Thalia...” Willow had always wanted to name her daughter Thalia- if she ever had one.

“I'm right here, Mommy. Daddy, why is Mommy being silly?”

“Willow, tell me what we need to do!”

“N-nothing. I'm fine.” Willow placed a hand on her stomach, her eyes widening when she realized there was a rather large bump there. Tom placed his hand over Willow's, smiling as the little wizard growing inside gave a small kick. Willow couldn't stop the tears that began to flow freely down her cheeks. Tom looked into Willow's eyes and smiled softly, wiping away her tears.

“I know... it's hard to believe, isn't it? Everything is just so... perfect.” Tom pressed his lips affectionately against Willow's forehead before gently brushing her hair behind her ear. “I love you, so much.”

Willow had been about to say 'I love you, too,' when the world shifted again and she was back in the old, smelly shop. Kitranthia had pulled her hands away and was grinning, holding a vial full of shimmering liquid- Willow's tears of happiness. More tears began to flow now, only this time they were tears of anger- of anguish.

“Send me back! Give me back my family!” She sobbed, falling to her knees. “Give me back my happiness...”

“It hurts, doesn't it?”

“What did you do to me?”

The old woman smirked, reaching down with another vial to collect Willow's tears of sadness. As they dropped into the vial they seemed to emit a dark glow. “I gave you a taste of pure happiness. Everything you have ever dreamed of having- that was it. A growing family, the love of your life. It is something you believe you will never have, but something you long for daily.”

“I want to go back...”

“We all do, child. However, we cannot live in an imaginary world forever. Now, get up. I will get your potions.”

Willow waited until the woman had disappeared before she slowly pulled herself up, wiping away the last of her tears. If I had stayed at the orphanage, would that have been my life..? Willow wondered as she pulled her hood back over her head. No. I would have died. Elliot would never lie to me, Willow decided. As hard as she tried to push the thoughts aside, she could not. “Damn it! I could want anything, anything in the world, but it had to be him!”

“That is the way of the world, my dear. Here you are. I must thank you- I haven't had such potent tears in ages.”

Willow nodded, wanting to get out of there as fast as she could. She put the potions carefully inside her endless pocket and left the shop. She worked quickly then, unsure of how much time had been wasted in Kitranthia's shop. She purchased anything and everything she thought she would need, from chicken, to dragon-fire bread, to pickled mermaid-tail, to green beans. She bought a few things she had only heard about, such as self replenishing hippogriff milk and whomping willow syrup. She kept these items in bags, not wanting to draw attention to her cloak, and its pocket. She did buy one last item to put inside her pocket, though, and that was a hand-me-down broom, another part of her plan. When Abraxas came back, Willow followed him to the inn where she offered him a chocolate galleon with a small drop of her sleeping-draught. When he questioned it, Willow gave him a seductive grin and ran her hands down his chest and over the slight bulge that had already formed in his trousers. “It‘s to make it last longer,” she purred.

“You really are quite an idiot,” Willow said after Abraxas had fallen asleep trying to disrobe himself, his rather insignificant manhood still quite stiff. Willow took his wand, using magic to lift Abraxas up onto the bed. Next, she began tampering with his memories, making him believe he had come to the inn with some other girl who had given him a sleeping potion and stolen his money. Willow searched him for any money he had left and put it in her pocket, thinking over what she would say to Tom when he got there. Quickly, she drank the potion that would make her lock of hair grow back and then tugged up Abraxas' sleeve, pressing his wand to his Dark Mark.

Tom was there within seconds, his face contorted with anger. “Abraxas, if you lost her, I swear on my own grave that I-”

“T- I mean, my Lord, I am not lost.”

Tom looked at Willow, then at Abraxas, who was still lying unconscious on the bed. “Wake up, you insufferable dolt!” Tom snarled, knocking the sleeping wizard off of the bed. Abraxas just rolled over, pulling the sheets off of the bed and cuddling with them.

“I tried to wake him, my Lord, but could not. I thought it best to call you. I think he's been given a potion. When I found him, he looked as if he had been robbed.”

Tom turned a scrutinizing eye to Willow, trying to detect any hint of a lie, but Willow had been telling lies since she could talk, and she had mastered the art. “He always was overly fond of the ladies,” Tom grumbled, wondering why his Death Eaters were such idiots at times. “Next time you come out to shop, I will have to send a few more... just to be sure. Perhaps a woman... Come. We will leave him here.”

Willow nodded and gripped Tom's arm tightly, holding her bags in her other hand. Once again, they rode the wind in a thick, black smoke, to Tom's hideout.

“You have exactly one hour. You may eat with me, but then you will go back downstairs.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Willow didn't waist her time. She put everything away quickly, except the things she had decided to use in the meal. Using magic to make things faster, Willow cooked and sliced some ham, using the whomping willow syrup to create a glaze. She put the ham on top of some warm dragon-fire bread, and put some sautéed beans on the plate as well. She made sure to secretively add a small drop of the sleeping-draught to Tom's syrup before she served him his dinner with a nice, cold glass of hippogriff milk. After Tom had started eating, Willow prepared her own plate and sat down with him. It would take a moment for the draught to work, and Willow wanted to appear as casual as she could, not wanting to raise any suspicions, though she was sure she had already raised a few.

“Where did you learn to cook?” Tom asked after taking the last drink from his cup, his plate also empty.

“Elliot taught me, mostly. I spent a bit of time in the kitchen with the elves when I was attending Hogwarts.”

“Why... would you...” Tom's eyes started to close slowly, but he forced them open. “I think... I'd better get you downstairs,” he mumbled, trying to stand up. He almost fell over, but managed to use his chair to balance himself. “C-come help me...” Tom demanded. It didn't sound all that much like a demand, but Willow played her part, walking over and letting Tom throw his arm over her shoulder. She should have known better. Tom never asked for help- even as a child. He grasped her shoulder tightly and sat back down on the chair, forcing her on his lap. He used his other hand to search her. Soon, he found the lock of hair that was much shorter than all the others. “I knew it... you... tricked...” Tom passed out then, his grip slacking. Willow sighed in relief and stood. She looked at Tom and froze. Sleeping, he looked almost exactly like the Tom Kitranthia had shown her. Willow placed her hand on his cheek and stroked it gently with her thumb. “I know you're in there...” She whispered, leaning over and placing a feather-light kiss on Tom's lips. “I'll get you out.”

Willow pulled herself away from Tom. She tried to tell herself that when he woke up, he would be the same, dark wizard, but her heart wouldn't have any of that. It told her to stay with Tom, while the moment lasted, while his walls were down. But hearts could be foolish, and Willow knew that. So, though it almost made her cry, she left the house, her cloak tight around her shoulders, and pulled out her broom, climbing on and kicking off of the ground. She used wandless magic to cast a simple navigation spell and was off to Lovat Lane. She had to see Elliot. To tell him she was alright, but also to ask him some questions. For some reason, she just couldn't get out of her head that he might have lied to her. Surely she would not have died if she had gone back. She could have survived, at least until Tom came back. She could have told him the truth, they could have run away together. Willow shook her head. He wouldn't lie to me. I know he wouldn't. Willow also knew that Gaela were excellent liars. It was the only way her plan could have worked, the only way she managed to survive the first thirty-three years of her life.

Her mind was a complete wreck by the time she touched down on Elliot's front step and knocked on the door, looking around to make sure that nobody had seen her.

When Elliot answered the door, Willow ran into his arms, embracing him tightly. “Oh, Elliot! I don't know what to do!”

Elliot didn't seem surprised to see her. “I saw you coming. Come in and sit down. I reckon you still have a few hours before you have to leave.”

Willow followed Elliot into the sitting room and set her broom against the wall. Hot tea was already set out, and the warm blanket that Elliot had always wrapped Willow in to comfort her was draped over the couch. They sat down together and Willow pulled the blanket around herself while Elliot poured the tea.

“You told me I was safe at Hogwarts.”

“You were. You left.”

“Because they were going to kill you! I could not let that happen!”

“Willow, did you ever stop to think about it? I told you... My death will be accompanied by owls.”

Willow's mouth gaped open. “I- How could I forget- I'm such an idiot!” Willow banged her fist on the table, causing some tea to slosh out of the mug.

“Now, now... You were afraid.”

Willow nodded, sighing when she realized she would have to ask the question. She would hate herself if she didn't. “When you talked to me that night... the night I ran away... What did you see? How did I die?”

Elliot, about to take a sip of his tea, paused. “I thought I told you.”

“No, you only said if I encountered Tom again, I would die. You never said how.”

Elliot put his tea down. “Well, he would kill you, of course.”

“Who? Tom?”

“Who else?”

It didn't make sense. Tom would never have been angry with her if she hadn't left. “Are you sure?”

“Have I ever lied to you, Willow?”

Willow wasn't so sure anymore. She let the blanket drop off of her shoulders and stood. “I should go.”

“No!” Elliot said, much too quickly. “What I meant to say is, you've only just arrived. Surely there is no harm in you staying another hour.”

“I knew it! You lied to me! You've been lying to me for years!” Willow shouted, stepping away from her 'friend'. “What did you really see that night?”

“Willow, I told you-”

“LIAR!” Willow growled, grabbing her broom. “I'm leaving.”

“Willow, if you leave now, I'll die!”

“Die, for all I care!”

Elliot sighed, pulling out a 1955 Colt Python and pointing it at Willow. “I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but... If you don't die... I will. And I can't have that.”

Willow froze, heartbreak and betrayal clear on her face.

“Do you want to know what I saw that day? I saw you and Tom together, a little girl by your side, a baby growing inside of you. I was so jealous- so angry that you should have the perfect life, just like that. I had been running for two-hundred years, and you- you fall in love and get your happily ever after, you die of old age. Why should you, who had only lived twenty-six years by the time your fate was decided, have a happy ending that I deserve? I convinced you to come with me, to stay away from him. I tried to build that happy ending for us, but you just wouldn't let that happen. Fate kept trying to get you and him together. You have no idea how hard I had to try to keep you apart. At last, when I'd convinced you to go for that interview at Hogwarts, I thought you'd smarten up, heed my warnings. Now, you've fucked up everything so much that you've put my life on the line. I can see it already, my death changing..." Elliot cringed. "If I kill you now, I can slip away, and your beloved will be far too heartbroken to look for me. He'll kill himself. But, if you live, he kills me. I'm not about to let that happen."

“You disgust me.”

“Get used to it, puppet.”

When willow heard a sharp crack, she closed her eyes, waiting for her death. Only it didn't come. Instead, she was pushed aside. A flash of green light was sent flying towards Elliot, hitting him square in the chest. Instantly, a great wave washed throughout the room, covering everything in a bright glow. Everything it touched seemed to be somehow rejuvenated. Elliot’s essence, Willow turned to look at her savior, almost bursting into tears when she saw Tom standing there, angrier than she had ever seen him. Realizing that the crack must have been Tom apparating, Willow stood and ran to him, clutching his robes and burying her face in his neck. “I'm so sorry!” Willow's muffled voice said. Tom pushed her away and she felt the collar she had almost forgotten about tighten around her neck.

“You stupid girl! You thought that you could slip a sleeping-draught into my food and just sneak away? I knew that you were up to something. You are far too stubborn to give in to my requests so quickly, even after I used the Cruciatus Curse on you. Well, trust me, Willow, after this little stunt you pulled, that won't be the last time you taste that curse-”

“Just take me home. With you. Please...”

Tom found that he could not refuse her request. Even in his anger, he loved her, and the way she said 'home' and 'with you' set his heart aflutter. He sighed, frustrated with himself for giving in so easily. “Put the broom down. You'll not be escaping again.”

Willow threw the broom to the ground and ran into Tom's arms, holding him tightly as they turned to smoke.

Willow wasn't surprised that when they got home, Tom made her hand over the cloak. He emptied the contents of the endless pocket, putting the sleeping-draught away, sealing it with magic so that Willow could not get to it. He then removed the pocket from the cloak and handed the cloak back to Willow. “Keep it. For when you go out. But remember... I will have eyes on you everywhere from now on.” Willow was surprised that he was still contemplating letting her leave the house. Tom then took her downstairs and into the cold stone room, using his wand to light the way. “You tricked me, Willow. It won't happen again. I'll be expecting it now. Any change in your attitude, and I'll notice.” Tom wanted so badly to be furious with her, to punish her, to torture her, but he was at war with himself. Part of him said he should take her upstairs and give her every comfort he could think of. The exact opposite part told him to torture her until she screamed every time he so much as looked at her. In the end, he decided to just leave her there. Before he left, however, he asked her a single question. “Do you love me?”

Willow took a long time to answer. After seeing her desires, what her life could have been, she knew that she loved Tom. But this is still not Tom. Not really. Willow shook her head slowly. “I love Tom Riddle.”

“Tom Riddle doesn't exist.” He snapped, slamming the door. But if that were true, if Tom Riddle really didn't exist anymore... Why did he still want her to love him? Why did he want to love her back?
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Set In Stone