Hierarchy of Need [REWRITTEN]

Chapter Twelve

"I could've killed you."

Tom followed her gaze. "You give yourself too much credit." He tsk-d.

Delilah nearly snapped at him, but her breath caught in her throat as she felt his nimble fingers begin to tug the socks off her. He hooked a finger on the top lace trim at her knees, and pulled down so they rolled into a bunch. He took the left one off first, then the right.

She didn't know what to do but sat there dumbly like an animal caught in a trap.

"The moral is, strict adherence to a code is pointless." He waved his wand and the dirtied socks disappeared.

Delilah felt strangely bare and she pulled her knees back up to her chest. They needed distance. Her head became too clouded when he was close.

"Rosier will be attending."

"What?"

"I have concerns about your hearing." Tom sighed, her attention span was annoyingly short today. He dismissed the glare she shot at him. "Avery Manor will be hosting the Yule Ball this holiday, and Avery has invited you." The lie slipped easily past his lips, rolling off his tongue as a second language.

Cain didn't invite her, nor did Elio. Now that he thought about it, why didn't Elio invite her? Cain asked Lolita. The two thought they were being discrete, but anyone could tell they undressed each other with their eyes every time they were in the same room. Abraxas even asked a brunette Ravenclaw, Aurora.

A Christmas Ball seemed fanciful to Delilah. Too good to be true.

Getting dressed in an elegant gown, pinning up her hair, doing her makeup, dancing with a handsome boy, laughing with her new friends. Delilah couldn't have that even if she begged on her knees. No, she had to stay at Hogwarts. Research harder on why she arrived in 1943. Dumbledore's been doing all the work, really. If she had been trying harder, could she have already been back home?

Could she remember who she is?

The task seemed impossible. Delilah was smart, but she wasn't insanely brilliant or clever. Not like Tom.

She wondered if he had any ideas, if Tom was in her place, there was no doubt he'd have figured out the solution within a week at most. However, telling him would obviously be too dangerous.

The scars on her back began to itch and ache again and a shadow of grief passed over her for a moment and she felt hollow. Her old wounds begged her to remember, but she didn't know if she wanted to. Perhaps there was a silver lining, forgetting her trauma.

Tom noticed her rosy skin lose the warm hue, her breathing became shallow, and Delilah appeared to be trembling. What really gave it away was her eyes.

Surely a Yule Ball wasn't the cause of her anguish? Tom opened his mouth, paused, then continued.

"Are you alright?"

If Tom saw her break, really break, she had no idea what he'd do with such information. He certainly wouldn't comfort her, that was a notion lost on him. Delilah didn't want his comfort even if it was feigned. She didn't want anyone's pity.

Would he mock her? Tell her she was weak for letting her emotions get the best of her? Weak for even letting herself be put in such a situation? Use it against her?

Delilah knew he wouldn't tell anyone unless he got some benefit out of leaking the information. He wasn't the type to spread rumors just for the fun of it.

However, he did hate her.

If the roles were reversed, would she do the same to Tom? No, she couldn't. She hated him, yes. With every inch of her being. But Delilah would never stoop so low to inflict pain on others just to appease herself.