As the weeks went on and Merry's pregnancy continued and she grew, she got worse. She had always been a pale girl, but now, she was deathly pale and she looked frail.

Polly was worried about her. I didn't like seeing the look on Polly's face when she tended to Merry. It was like she was reliving something from her past and I just got a sense that something bad had happened to her.

As each day went by, I was growing closer and closer to the day that I was going to lose Merry.

"Did I die in the other time?" she asked, breaking me from my thoughts as I sat opposite her in the living room.

I let my eyes drift to her and tightened my grip on my teacup. We didn't speak about her life from the future. It was an unspoken rule. I didn't want to change things, but I guess, considering we'd gone back in time and considering I couldn't find a way to change that, to get us back to her time, I had already changed things.

I'd inserted myself into Polly's life, into the Shelby's life. Hadn't I already changed the future?

"You did. After you had Tom at the orphanage, you had enough time to name him and then you passed away." I didn't feel like keeping it from her. She knew. I could see from her face that she knew.

"Was it because of my heart?"

"I think it might have been. You lived a worse life leading up to Tom's birth. You split from Riddle Sr. and were wandering the streets of London for months before going to an orphanage when you went into labour. A lot of people from my time say you died of a broken heart," I said, moving over to her and tucking a blanket around her frail body.

Even in her sickness, she had this glow about her. It made me angry that Tom still wouldn't have a mother even though the situation had changed. Merry was living a better life than she ever had but she was still going to die after giving birth.

Even magic couldn't save her.

I'd gone to St Mungo's in the hope they'd be able to save Merry, but they couldn't. There was nothing to be done. They could give her a potion that would give her the strength to go to full term without complications but the strain of labour would eventually kill her.

"Merry, I want to do something before you leave us." I didn't want to say the words. The more I said them, the more it made it real.

If I was stuck in this era, stuck in 1916 having to live in the past, I wouldn't want to do it without Merry. I wanted to do something for baby Tom. He'd never gotten to know his mother in his timeline and as it was going now, he'd never get to know her in this timeline either.

There were no photographs of her for him to look at and any questions he had were never answered. I wanted to be able to give him all of that.

"Can you write a letter to Tom? Let him know how much you love him? Tell him what he means to you and that you didn't want to leave him?" I didn't want to tell her that I needed the letter just as much as the baby would.

"I've gotten a camera and I want to take a couple of pictures of us before too." I wanted a reminder of her in our house. She had marked my life more than I thought and I never wanted to forget her. "I want Tom to see you when he grows."

"I will." She paused as she shifted in her seat and gave me a gentle smile. "As long as you take a picture and send it to Tommy."

My eyes widened at the thought. I was not going to send a picture to Tommy. That was the sort of thing you did if you were sweethearts and I was most definitely not Tommy's sweetheart.

"Of course," I lied, squeezing her hand as I rose and went to the kitchen where Polly was giving the children breakfast. They were all dressed nice, part of my plan. I wanted to do a family photo for John and thought Arthur and Tommy would also enjoy seeing their family in tough times. "She's agreed to the photographs." Polly nodded and handed Edward off to Ada, who grimaced as the two-year-old frowned at her.

"I'll go get her dressed, have you picked out her clothes?" Polly asked, hovering by the door.

"I've set them out in the living room," I told her. We'd moved Merry into the living room as the stairs were too much for her now. I tended to fill a bath for her in front of the fire and with Polly's help every other night we washed her.

"She'll appreciate it, Romy," Ada promised, giving me a soft smile as I sighed deeply. I was finding it harder and harder to think about Merry leaving us.

Friday 6th October 1916

Dear Tommy,

With every passing week, I find it harder to admit that one day Merry will no longer be with us.

There's a heavy hand squeezing my heart and I'm not sure that I will be able to forget this feeling. I know I shouldn't admit it, even to you in a letter, but I fear I will not be able to love the child.

Is that wrong of me?

Merry believes she's having a boy and she wishes to call him Tom, after his father. Polly says it will get confusing when you return from war. How will we know who we are talking to?

If she's to have a girl, she wishes to call her Elizabeth-Alice after Polly and our mother.

I don't know how I'm going to do this, Tommy.

Every day I see Merry getting weaker while her love for the baby grows and it makes me angry. I shouldn't hate him, but I do. What if I hate him when he's placed in my arms and all I can see is his mother?

You must be getting frustrated with me at this point. All I do is moan to you and I bet you feel obliged to read my letters and reply to me. Trust me, Tommy, you do not need to reply to me. I am just ranting and I feel content writing to you.

Even if you do not read my letters, it makes me feel lighter knowing I am talking to someone about this.

Please know that I am here in return if you wish to tell me anything, well, as much as you can considering there are things you cannot tell me. I enjoy talking to you, Tommy, and in the dark times I am about to face with the loss of my sister, I am happy I decided to write to you, even if it was selfish of me in the beginning.

Thinking of you,

Romy x

P.s. Please cherish your accompanying photograph of the family.

A week to the night I sent Tommy his letter, I got this really unsettling feeling as I wrapped Merry in her blanket.

As I sat at the kitchen table, drinking my tea ready to read my tea leaves, I thought if the unsettling feeling had anything to do with my confession to Tommy.

I knew deep down why I would possibly hate the baby. He was, after all, destined to be Tom Riddle, the man that destroyed my family. Was it wrong of me to be resentful towards him even though he wasn't born? There was no proof that he was going to turn out that way, not now that we were stuck in nineteen-sixteen.

The hairs on my arms prickled as a shiver ran through me and I felt a thumping in my head as my vision began to blur. I could see Polly walking down the street, she was close to our house, probably popping in to check up on Merry. A dark shadow was coming up behind her, it's boney fingers gripping onto her hair and dragging her round to face it. As Polly screamed, the creature sucked the life from her, her eyes turning dim.

"Polly," I gasped, shooting from my seat and rushing out the door, my wand at the ready.

It made sense. Why I was feeling cold, why Merry hadn't been feeling her usual happy self. If a dementor was sulking around Small Heath, sucking on the sadness of those around here, it would explain why everyone had been miserable over the last week.

Rushing down the street, I stumbled to a stop as I saw Polly lying on the floor, a dementor floating over her, sucking her soul from her body.

"Expecto Patronum," I fired, directing the spell at the dementor and my silver wolf charged at it, sending it away from Polly. I rushed over to her, taking her cold face in my hands as the wolf roamed around us, reading to attack if needed.

"Wh-what?" Polly muttered, her hands shaking as she brought them to my face, her eyes widened in fear.

"Shhh, I've got you, Pol, I've got you," I told her, helping her rise from the floor and slinging her arm over my shoulder. "Let's get you to the house and I can help you get better."

Glancing around the street, I helped Polly hobble over to the house, my Patronus following us. Polly stumbled through the front door, her back resting against the wall as I leaned on the door as I closed it behind us.

"Let me make you a drink," I said, leading her into the kitchen and flicking my wand to get the kettle boiling. There was no point hiding my magic from her now, not after her experience with the dementor. "You should have never had to experience that, Polly. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I should have been paying attention, the signs were there."

"Wh-what was it?" she muttered, dropping into a chair and taking the chocolate I offered her. It was Honeydukes finest, a little stash Hermione had included in the little black bag.

"It's a dementor. They're like wraiths, they suck the soul from its victims. They consume happy thoughts and tend to leave their victims feeling depressed." I took the kettle from the stove and made her a hot chocolate, setting the cup down in front of her. "They don't usually come around muggles, but that was in my time, it could be different here."

"What do you mean your time?" Polly asked, sipping at her drink as she frowned at me.

Trust her not to let the smallest of words slip past her even in this state.

"There's no easy way to tell you this, but unfortunately for you, you experienced something from my world a few moments ago, so it's going to be easier for you to believe me." I placed my wand on the table in front of her and settled down in the chair opposite. "I'm a witch. I come from a long line of witches and wizards."

"And Merry?"

"Merry is also a witch, but her magic is suppressed and she doesn't have the ability to use a wand. There are some that come from magical families that don't possess magic, they're called squibs. Those that don't have magic are referred to as muggles."

"So, these muggles," she paused, giving me a strong look as if she hadn't been attacked by a dementor half an hour ago. "That would be what I am?"

"By some standards yes. I personally believe that your family, the gypsy blood you have was from a wizarding family, it explains those feelings you get and you knowing things." She raised her eyebrows at my mention of her sixth sense. "I've noticed the small things you do, hearing from those that have moved on, knowing what gender child a woman carries, things people wouldn't worry about. You've got a touch of magic in your blood, Polly."

"You said something about your time, what does that mean?"

"Merry and I aren't from nineteen-sixteen, Merry was from the year nineteen-twenty-six and I was sent back to her time from the year, twenty-forty-seven."

"That's not possible," Polly muttered, shaking her head but I could tell as she looked at me that she believed what I was saying was true.

"Look," I said, waving my wand and my little black bag came into my hands. I shoved my hand inside, feeling around for the familiar photo album my mum must have placed inside. "This is my family, Polly. This is my mum and dad and these are my siblings." I pointed at my parents and my siblings and then flipped it over to point at my many nieces and nephews. "These are my nieces and nephews, the eleven children I used to look after."

"His hair's b-blue?!"

"My dad has the metamorphmagus ability, it was passed down from his mother and he passed it down to me. It means we can change our appearance, the colour of our hair, our eyes, our gender if we really want. Though at the end of the transformation, I will still be a female." I gave Polly a small smile as she looked at me in astonishment. While this was all completely natural to me, it was new and strange to her. "Here, look." I turned my hair colour to the famous turquoise my father always seemed to sport. After leaving it the bright blue for a few seconds, I let it return to its natural strawberry-ginger.

"You said you were sent back to Merry? Why?"

"Umm, see her son, Tom Riddle, well, he didn't go down the right path when he was at school. He turned to dark magic and over the years he got this group of followers and they had their own beliefs about muggleborns—"

"What's a muggleborn?"

"Umm, they're witches and wizards born into a muggle family. No ones really a muggle, their blood is just dilated so the magic runs thin. They're often the great-great-grandchildren of a squib and the magic in their blood has become strong enough to be recognised as magical. I believe that there could be potential for John's children to have magic, or at least their children to inherit it."

"They could be like you?" For some reason, Polly seemed happy about that. I didn't want to question why that was for another time.

"Possibly, I wouldn't trust what I know. The best person to ask is probably my great-aunt Hermione." Shrugging at Polly I bit my lip and tapped my fingers on the table. "Merry's son eventually goes on this massive killing spree after hearing this prophecy about only being able to live forever if he kills this baby. My dad's godfather, Papa Harry, was that baby and on Halloween when he was one, Voldemort, that's what Tom called himself, turned up at his house and killed his parents."

"That's awful."

"Yeah, well it gets worse. See Voldemort died when the killing curse backfired on Harry and his body was killed while his soul latched onto Harry, therefore living. Over the years as my grandfather went to Hogwarts, that's our magical school where we learnt to control and grow our magic, Voldemort was trying to find a way to get back. He eventually returned to his body when Harry was fourteen and started the second wizarding war in his name. When my grandfather was in his seventh year he went on this hunt for pieces of Voldemort's soul, which was stopping him from truly dying, and then there was this massive, epic battle at Hogwarts which resulted in Voldemort's death."

"It all seems a little ..." Polly trailed off as if she wasn't sure what she wanted to say.

"I'm being blunt about it. I've literally got no clue how I'm meant to tell you this. I feel that being blunt is the best way to go." It wasn't as if I should really be telling her this anyway. It could get me into trouble. "Basically, we won the war, we lost a lot of people and Voldemort was gone forever."

"Then why are you here?"

"Well, Merry accidentally knocked the time-tuner and sent us back here. I can't find a way to get us back to her time, the time-turner won't budge and I've got the feeling I was meant to be here."

"Why were you sent to Merry in the first place?" Polly wasn't one to miss anything. I knew being blunt with her was the way to go. She wasn't the sort that needed her hand holding during this explanation.

"I was being followed by Tom Riddle in my time, in twenty-forty-seven."

"Surely he would be dead by then, wait didn't you say he died?"

"Yeah, but someone went back in time to when he was a student at Hogwarts and brought him to the future. It messed things up and if I didn't stop it my whole family would have been erased from time."

"Why were you sent back?" She was holding back her anger and it reminded me of Dora and how angry she got when she was told it would be me getting sent back.

"I'm not only a metamorphmagus but also a seer. I've been having these dreams about him since I was little, it was like I was being warned but we didn't know what until I saw him a couple of months ago."

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" Polly asked a softness to her voice I'd never heard before.

"No, not really." I was willing to admit defeat to Polly. I had done it to Tommy in a way. Admitting to him that I feared I would hate baby Tom.

"Why did you tell Merry you'd look after her baby when you know who he'd become? When he destroyed your family?"

"Merry doesn't need to know what will happen to her son and at the end of the day, Tom's only a baby. Can I really fault him for his actions when he hasn't been born?"

"But all that he's done ..." Polly was experiencing the same predicament I had. Did I really want to raise the child that grew into the man that took a lot from my family?

"Would you have me kill him when he's born, Polly?"

"No!"

"Even you can't condemn killing a baby even when you know what happens to him." I gave her a sad smile and rose from the table. I walked over to the sink and set my cup into it. I leaned on the counter and looked out the window. "Polly, what if I can't love him? What if I look at him and see everything he's done and I hate him? Merry loves him so much already, she wants him to be loved, but what if I can't do that?"

"You won't." She was behind me. She must have moved as I spoke about my fears about Tom. "You'll look at him and you won't feel anything but love, and if you don't, if you struggle, I'll be there to help you."