A Chance in Time
"To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man." – W. Shakespeare.
Chapter 7: I Am
It was a strange day, the day Evangeline Malfoy stumbled upon little Tom Riddle and his brother Sebastian White. She had woken up very early that day, to console her husband, Preston, who was obviously trying to make a hole in the carpet of his office as he paced back and forth from the hearth to his desk. He was still wearing last night's midnight-blue robes (minus his shoes and socks) from when she and Preston had come back from the theatre, and it was only an hour after they arrived home that Preston received an owl from one of his business associates. He was clearly upset, if his clenched jaw and angry muttering was anything to go by. Evangeline remembered that he had told her that the Malfoy's lost a business yesterday – something that she didn't understand at all. It wasn't a woman's job to understand, Preston had said when she enquired and she left it at that. She took his brash tone as a dismissal and, wrapping her silken Egyptian robe around her body more tightly, she then went to comfort her boy, Abraxas, who was always so afraid of the thunder and lightning since she could remember. It was still early morning – almost five o'clock - so she lay beside him and tried to soothe him back to sleep.
It was only an hour later that one of the house elves entered the room to explain that over half of the house elves were sick with Marcomb's Magical Exhaustion Influenza and were simply too ill to work. The elves couldn't use any of their magic at all! Evangeline sighed and addressed the matter the only way she could and dealt with it herself: she dismissed all the house elves for the day and told them to stay away from herself, Preston and Abraxas – she didn't know if this influenza was contagious for wizards, but she certainly was not going to risk it. Then she got dressed and left the warmth of the Manor; it was up to her to find breakfast this morning, and as the Lady of the house, it was her job to look after her men.
She had not predicted that Hogsmeade was going to be so busy that morning, so finding any sustenance was proving to be more difficult as the morning progressed. But her thoughts were quickly evaporated at the sight of a little boy – no older than her Abraxas – standing in the cold in grey-stripped pyjamas, sodden from top to bottom. The poor boy didn't even have any shoes! She didn't know what took her to the boy. Maybe she likened that stubborn jaw of the boy to Abraxas', or maybe it was the sight of those tears, but something told her to investigate the matter. And she was glad that she did. Later, when she had discovered that the boy had a brother that was having a distressing panic attack in the middle of a busy Hogsmeade, she had no choice but to look after them.
And oh, how the boys cared for each other! How they watched each other without even realising it, how Sebastian would stop eating sometimes so that he may encourage his brother to eat. How Tom would sneak little looks at his brother while speaking to Evangeline – as if to make sure he was still there.
Evangeline always thought family was important and discovering that they were both orphans cut her to the quick! For a second, she could barely breathe. The boys were so young! She was only slightly older than Sebastian was when she lost her own mother and, soon after, he dear father.
The more she spoke to the boys, the more she became more besotted with them – they really did possess nothing and nobody, and yet Sebastian was still generous enough to want to pay for their meal. It was a blessing really that Marcus had stepped in to offer the meal on the house as she simply couldn't image how the boys would foot the bill. And she would not let them foot the bill. What kind of Lady would she have been if she had made orphans pay for her meal? Such shame...
It was towards the end of their breakfast, when Evangeline really did have to depart in order to find something for her own family to eat, that she seemed to have angered Sebastian. Maybe he had too much pride, maybe he was suspicious of her kindness, but she seemed to notice quickly that young Sebastian did not trust her. He became angry too quickly at her imploring queries and though it appeared that he tried to reign in that anger, the magic that leapt out of him was simply astounding.
Such magic, such dark and suffocating magic; magic that made the hair on her arms rise up, magic that stole the very breath from her lungs. Magic that seemed to have left her utterly disturbed and intimidated. Did Sebastian know he had magic that dark? Did he know that faces had turned to look their way?
Evangeline quickly dismissed that idea of telling him however, and truth be told, she was a little afraid of his reaction. And while Evangeline was trying to catch her breath, she distracted him with another question she wanted to know so much about to which Sebastian was willing to give, and finally, Sebastian told the story of his family. The family that couldn't raise them. The Gaunt family...and that was when Evangeline finally realised.
Weren't the Gaunts insane? Weren't they so inbred that they became distant from civilisation? So different? So fearsome? Evangeline recognised the story that Sebastian had told her – it was the talk of pureblood society when it became news that the youngest Gaunt married a Muggle, thus destroying the pure line. If Evangeline was truly honest, she would say that it was about time to dilute that inbred blood...
But that wasn't proper talk from a pureblood Lady. She'd leave the politics to the men.
As she left the cafe and bakery and bid them a good morning, Evangeline vowed to find as much as possible about the Gaunts...she was almost sure that they were linked to Salazar Slytherin himself...
...and her thoughts were confirmed when she confided in Preston later that morning. And oh! How Preston's eyes had lit up, icy grey crystals shone an excited shade of blue that sent shivers down Evangeline spine. Evangeline was suddenly worried. Preston had obviously recognised the name and he gripped Evangeline's shoulders with both hands as he urged her to keep visiting the boys for breakfast every morning. He wouldn't explain further, but she had never seen him so determined.
He used glamour for the bags and darkness under his eyes and went to find fresh new clothes for the day.
Preston Malfoy had a plan.
oOo
Something had happened. Something monumental had happened. And Harry and Tom were at the centre of it. The centre of a devious plan that Harry deduced a certain blond-haired man had devised. And Harry was not happy.
Before he even realised what he was doing, he had already lifted a hand to banish the snake with a flick of his wrist, much to Tom's cry of distress and the man's sharp gasp. Not once did his eyes leave the figure standing stock still behind the protection of the glass wall. Harry walked towards him.
Those angry thoughts that he had pushed away when arguing with Tom surfaced again one hundred times more intense than before. He felt his anger send tremors up and down his frame as he tried to distil several thoughts being crammed into his mind.
He was going to hurt us.
No different than any other Malfoy.
He was going to hurt Tom.
...tried so hard to get this far.
He was going to kill Tom.
...just to make the plan all go to nought?
He doesn't deserve to breathe!
How dare he? How dare –
Fists clenched tightly, Harry started walking towards the blond man; his legs not cooperating with his mind at all...
"Mr. Malfoy, I presume?" he asked voice deepened, heady with the magic that was seeping through his very pores.
The blond man nodded in confirmation, but he did so in a confused manner, as if he was stepping out of a fog or waking up from a long sleep. The man blinked several times and shook his head as if trying to dispel that feeling...
The feeling of being crushed.
And with each step, the man seemed to have faltered in his speech, and whatever he was saying Harry couldn't hear at all in the roar of angry thoughts. Suddenly, the man started breathing heavily, eyes wide as he stared at Harry, and he could vaguely hear Tom calling his name.
Calling him to stop, to come back.
The man was having difficulty standing up now and Harry watched as Mr. Malfoy took two hands to grip his head, whispers of white-blond hair escaping their braid, blood vessels became prominent on his temples. He had his eyes screwed shut and he fell to his knees, like a puppet with his strings cut –
Hands pulled Harry back from behind him. Tiny hands that were too small to be an adult's. Hands that were trembling – that belonged to a voice that was begging and begging for him to stop.
"Please, Sebastian, ple –" the voiced hiccoughed. Harry stopped. Was that Tom? Was he crying?
It was like the wind was suddenly lost from the sails of a boat at sea. The boat had a destination but it no longer had a force. Harry stopped still in his tracks.
"Tom?"
"Sebastian!" cried a voice and Harry saw Lady Malfoy running towards them. She stopped at where her husband was on the floor, on his hands and knees. He was shaking his head disorientated and Lady Malfoy looked so afraid.
Wretched, weak, feeble thing...
"Please, stop, Sebastian, look at what you're doing to him," she cried. She had both of her arms wrapped around her husband's shoulders as she pulled him back so that he rested his head on her chest.
"Evangeline?" Mr. Malfoy asked voice soft.
How utterly pathetic.
Behind them, Harry saw Abraxas walk towards his parents and –
Dear Merlin, what happened to his face?
"Tom?" Harry called and then Tom was in front of him, gripping him about his waist and chanting over and over again to take him back home. Shaking his head, Harry called his magic back to him, as if pulling a fishing line. The magic snapped back into place, wrapping itself around Harry like a blanket and Harry felt nauseous at how quick it happened.
From where he stood, he could see colour returning back to Mr. Malfoy's face. Harry took in Mr. Malfoy's form on the ground and he shuddered at the sight. Was he really going to kill him? And for some reason, that didn't frighten him the way it should have.
"Did you do that, Tom? To that snot's face?" he enquired when his thoughts were quickly stolen by Abraxas' demur stance beside his father. The rush of magic that he used was making him quickly lethargic and he sank to his knees in front of Tom.
Tom laughed nervously, through the tears and the horror in his eyes. Harry wiped those tears away with his fingers and brought him closer into a hug which Tom welcomed back gratefully if a little stiffly.
Suddenly, Harry heard laughter and both he and Tom looked up to see that the source was Mr. Malfoy. His head was still propped up against Lady Malfoy's chest with Abraxas to his left, holding his father's hand.
"That, little Slytherin, was simply..." he breathed, opening his eyes to look at Harry. Lady Malfoy gasped beside him. "Sebastian, isn't it? I knew you'd be spectacular. I knew you'd be just as I imagined."
Harry shook his head amazed at his declaration. The wind seemed to want to steal his breath away as it swayed the trees and moved the grass, flowers seemed to dance the same dance as the hair on their heads."I should kill you for that. I could've have killed you for that."
"For what?" he asked innocently, he was trying to sit up now with the help of his wife and child.
How disgusting, how vulnerable he looks, doesn't he Harry?
"For the test!" he snarled. "For trying to hurt us!"
"What is wrong with your eyes, Sebastian?" Lady Malfoy whispered so quietly that Harry could barely hear her.
You should destroy them, Harry, before they become your enemy. Kill them now, Harry.
No. Oh, Merlin, not again, Harry thought in utter panic, quickly recognising the voice. Not him, please –
Kill them now, Harry!
"No!" Harry cried, suddenly standing up, pushing the voice away. The voice that just wouldn't leave. "Get away from me! I've already won!" But Voldermort's thoughts were still pressing and pressing in his mind.
"Sebastian? I –?"
"No! Not you, Tom, never you..." Harry turned to look at Lady Malfoy and Mr. Malfoy. "You! This is your entire fault!" For the life of him, he couldn't remember how he pushed Voldermort's thoughts the last time he was in his mind, the last time he urged him to kill. To kill Ron and Hermione.
As always after Voldermort invaded his thoughts and feelings, Harry's senses became more refined: he could smell the alarm running through everyone's thoughts and emotions, he felt their confusion and dread thick like syrup and he whimpered at the thought of having panic attack at the onslaught of senses rushed through him.
"Sebastian, please," whispered Lady Malfoy. "Please, you must forgive my husband. He is a power-hungry man as were all Malfoy men before him!" she sounded angry now, more than she was afraid. And with that, she got up, pushing her husband completely off of her so that she could rush towards them. He fell on the ground in a graceless heap.
"Wait, Eva! You don't know if it's safe!" cried her husband.
"Mother, please!" Abraxas shouted at the same time.
"You be quite, Preston!" she shouted back as she rushed to pull the glass door open. "I am angry at you! And you will not speak to me!" her voice sound strained with each breath as she rushed towards the two boys, hands fisted into her long skirts. She sounded like she was on the verge of crying and the few gasps ripped from her throat indicated that she was very close to shedding those angry tears.
When she finally reached them, she did not hesitate in wrapping those arms around the two boys and disapparating straight from the gardens and into one of the living room.
oOo
They had been in the living room for almost an hour now. An hour for Harry's anger to begin to fade; an hour for him to be strong enough to push Voldermort's voice back into the furthest crevice of his mind. An hour for Tom to finally stop crying. An hour and Lady Malfoy was still pacing and pacing and pacing...
Harry sat with Tom lying vertically on his lap, he looked like he was fast asleep but Harry knew that that wasn't the case. He could hear him sniffing and sometimes he would call Sebastian's name and when Harry would reply, Tom was whisper that he was just checking that he was still there...
Was Harry still there? Or was he Sebastian now? Was Voldermort's just waiting for another chance inside him, urging to kill for the sake of killing, to control him? Was Harry dead now? Something was happening to Harry and there was no one there to help him.
What was he going to do?
"I am truly sorry," Lady Malfoy said, no longer pacing. "I am truly sorry for what had transpired today. I do not know what possessed him to think that way." Although her voice was eerily calm, her whole body seemed to radiate tension.
Was she really angry for their sake? Harry had a hard time believing it.
Walking slowly towards them, Lady Malfoy sat down beside them so that Tom's head almost touched her shoulder. She lifted one long-fingered hand to brush the hair from Tom's forehead.
"Will you forgive the Malfoy's one day, Sebastian?" she asked as she leaned in to kiss Tom lightly on his brow.
Harry didn't know how to push her away without angering himself to the point of using his magic, so he settled on clenching his jaw and breathing in deeply.
"It wasn't you're fault, Lady Malfoy," Tom said quietly in Harry's arms and Lady Malfoy only smiled indulgently.
"I thought you were asleep, my Tom," she said and she shook her head tiredly. For a second, Harry thought she looked incredibly young. "But it is my fault, Tom, I should have never told Preston about you. I should have known –"
"Mother?" asked a voice timidly, which Harry knew belonged to Abraxas. Had Mr. Malfoy sent him to do the dirty work for him? Did he think that maybe cute, little Abraxas could melt his darling mother's heart?
"Mummy, are you alright?" he asked and his voice was thick with tears.
Lady Malfoy head snapped up to look at the large door that Abraxas was behind. She spared a look at Harry quickly before looking back down at her hands placed delicately on her lap. Harry knew that she was debating with whether to open the door to admit her son in but didn't want to offend him.
Sighing for the umpteenth time, Harry rearranged Tom in this lap so that Tom's head lay rested against his shoulder now. "Go see to your son, Lady Malfoy. He's calling for you."
Head still bowed, brilliant blue eyes looked up to meet Harry's. "Abraxas should also be reprimanded, Sebastian, he picked a fight with Tom. It is not how I raised him, you understand."
Harry nodded his understanding, but regardless...he didn't want to get involved with the family but Abraxas was only a child, really – and what kind of role model of a father did he have anyway? "I think he's sorry now."
"I am sorry, so sorry. So, so, so sorr –" Abraxas called from the other side.
"That's enough, Abraxas," Lady Malfoy called back, raising one eyebrow whilst staring at the door as if she could see past it.
"I won't ever do it again, Mummy, I promise!" he called again.
Harry could see Tom smirking against his shoulder.
"A baby, isn't he?" Harry asked quietly to Tom who giggled, one hand covering his mouth as if he couldn't help it.
"I am not!" Abraxas called back and Tom couldn't help the bubble of laughter that came out this time. Lady Malfoy smiled beside him.
"You may come in only if Tom has forgiven you, Abraxas," she stated coolly whilst turning to the boy in question.
"I don't know..." Tom asked as if greatly troubled, though that smile never left his lips. "I was terribly offended..."
"I said I was sorry!"
"Abraxas, that is not how we apologise is it?" Lady Malfoy chastised curtly.
"Alright, alright!" he huffed, but it was clear that he was still panicking and may start crying again. They could hear him take in a deep breath before talking again. "I'm sorry for being rude, Tom. I shan't do it again, and...and...you may have my broom, no wait! You may borrow my broom." He huffed again. "Alright, fine, you may have it, but only if you let me borrow it sometime!"
Harry couldn't help a snort of amusement. What a funny way of apologising.
Searching Tom's still pale face placed on his shoulder, Harry realised that he was confused about why anyone would want a broom.
"Er..." Tom began unsure. "A broom?" and Harry's smile stretched wider at how puzzled Tom looked. The boy was usually so sure of everything.
"Oh, alright! I'll throw in my new book on dragons. Father bought it for my birthday, but you may have it if you want. Dragons are boring now, anyway – don't tell Father I said that," he added quickly. The boy really did talk a lot.
"Um...OK..."
"Oh, excellent!" Abraxas cried, noticeably relieved. They could hear some shuffling as he giggled in delight. "May I come in now?"
oOo
Harry stretched his whole body from top to bottom, when Tom finally rolled off to sit beside the unlit fireplace. The eight-year old was sitting there, staring pensively and Harry didn't have the strength to approach him and ask questions.
Every now and then Harry would watch Tom look up and gaze at Lady Malfoy who was spending quite a lot of time tending to the bruises on her son's face. She was doing an excellent job at stopping the blood and reducing any swelling on his lip and cheekbone, but the bruises were very stubborn to remove. Harry felt pride for his brother at making such a fine effort of disfiguring the little blond twerp. Finally, though, Lady Malfoy managed to bring the colour of his bruises down to a mute yellow colour. As a reminder, Harry thought, of thinking before acting.
Tom was too amazed to simply sit back, so eventually he got up and slowly made his way to where the two purebloods sat, to watch them. Harry's thoughts started drifting to the third member of the Malfoy family and through the fatigue that seemed to make his whole body feel heavy; Harry could feel the underlying anger towards the man.
He couldn't help himself, really, when he found himself walking towards the living room door and quietly letting himself out. He had to find Mr. Malfoy. He had to make him sorry for what he did – almost did.
He heard his name being called out by Lady Malfoy and then Tom but nobody followed him out. Harry continued down the long corridor of the East Wing and used his newly acquired skill, courtesy of a brilliant book Harry had discovered when he had first started panicking about his new powers, to 'sniff' out any magical beings.
After passing two house elves and a very tall blue plant that seemed to move, Harry finally sensed magic coming from a room at the very end of the second corridor. Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, yes, it smelt like magic and...fear.
He didn't understand it, but Harry became excited at the prospect of seeing that fear.
Fingers grazing the walls lightly, Harry walked towards the middle of the corridor, towards where he could hear footsteps and angry muttering. When he reached the room – or an office perhaps, judging by the gargantuan black desk placed at the back and the many shelves of books – he was not surprised to find an agitated Mr. Malfoy pacing back and forth.
Harry studied him from where he stood, while he still could as Mr. Malfoy still hadn't noticed him yet. The man had a metal poker in his loose grip and he was in the process of lighting the fire in the fireplace, except he was shaking too much to even concentrate on the incantation to make that happen. Harry frowned pensively, if Mr. Malfoy had planned this whole debacle, had he not considered the consequences? Did he assume that it would just end there?
"You must have been desperate," Harry said quietly and watched how Mr. Malfoy tensed. His back was towards Harry and he seemed to freeze in place at the sound of Harry's voice. The smell of fear almost overwhelmed Harry's senses.
Mr. Malfoy straightened up so that he wasn't hunched over, and the poker in his hand seemed to be gripped more tightly now. Slowly he turned to face Harry, a calm yet apprehensive look on his face.
The Malfoy's were always very good at keeping their faces blank, weren't they? Thought Harry, but they were always cowards, too.
"Desperate?" the blond man seemed to whisper, cocking his head to one side, as if assessing the green-eyed boy. "For what?"
"I was hoping you could answer that, actually, Mr. Malfoy." Harry took his first step into the room and stood a few feet from the man. "Perhaps, desperate to have the Slytherin boys under your thumb – and it's plain that your wife told you that much, hm?"
Mr. Malfoy began shaking again. "What have you done to my wife, my boy?"
Harry scoffed irritably, "don't pretend to care about anyone other than yourself." He shook his head. "You planned this all for yourself – for your gain, didn't you?"
Mr. Malfoy took a step back until the back of his legs met the front of his desk, which Harry could see was overtaken with parchments of various lengths.
"I did it for the Malfoy name. I didn't predict that it would get that far, Mr. White. May I call you Sebastian?"
Harry's face formed into an expression of disgust. "No."
Mr. Malfoy smiled suddenly showing perfect, straight, white teeth. "As confident and to-the-point as Eva said. And you are only a child, aren't you?" He suddenly ducked his head as if shy. "I admit, it was quite underhanded of me to use my wife this way, to gain as much information about you. But the Malfoy's were never one to let an excellent opportunity to pass. An opportunity to see you for myself, to have you acquainted with the family... Do you have any idea how much prestige and nobility the Slytherin family holds?" He scoffed lightly, smiling slightly, "No, you wouldn't, you were muggle-raised weren't you?" he wrinkled his nose at the word as if it shouldn't be uttered.
"Is that it?" Harry asked, almost rolling his eyes at reference to being muggle-raised. "That you had no other choice because that's just who you are?" Mr. Malfoy opened his mouth to retaliate and Harry stepped forward until he was an arms-length from the Malfoy patriarch. The words died at Mr. Malfoy's lips. "It must be so easy, isn't it? To control everyone like puppets. But I refuse to let you control Tom and I like you see fit. You would not want to make an enemy out of me, Mr. Malfoy. Because child or not, I can make your very existence incredibly intolerable." And with this, Harry let out a few wisps of magic to reach out towards the man, so that they wrapped around his magical core like warm tendrils.
"Be sure," Harry continued stepping close enough that he was only inches from Mr. Malfoy, eyes darkening, "to watch your step as you proceed, Mr. Malfoy; Tom and I are far more magically advanced than you hope you'll ever be."
Mr. Malfoy shuddered as the warm tendrils became scorching hot, his core now at the centre of being ripped out, and his eyes widened as panic seemed to surge through him.
"Do you understand, Mr. Malfoy?"
"My family – "
Harry was already shaking his head. "You never hurt my family and I'll never hurt yours."
Mr. Malfoy stood rigid and stared at the young man with admiration in his eyes, even as fear seemed to be pumping through his veins. "I see we have an understanding, Mr. White," he whispered breathlessly.
Harry's lips stretched into a parody of smile. A smile that looked a lot like Lord Voldermort's.
"Yessss, we do."
oOo
It had taken a while before Tom had finally left the warmth of Sebastian's lap to sit with Abraxas in the far corner of the living room. For the hundredth time that day, Tom marvelled at the richness and detail of the manor. It really was beautiful.
And yet, Abraxas was quite unfazed by it; he never once stared at anything in awe, not once did he jump when the house elf popped into the room several times holding trays laden with food, and most importantly he seemed to know a lot of things about magic.
Well, he has a tutor, hasn't he? Tom thought wistfully.
Abraxas sighed and moved a Knight on the magical chess board sitting between them. Tom smiled as he watched the Knight stomp threateningly at Tom's Pawn before it smashed it to pieces. Despite this, Tom was still winning their impromptu game.
At least that's one thing I have over Abraxas, he thought, chess and strategy are definitely mine.
He quickly glanced to his side to see his brother discussing something with Lady Malfoy; he had his body turned to the window of the room and a hard frown marring his forehead. The scar on his forehead looked very fresh and red, now. Tom wracked his brain and tried to remember if it was always so red –
"You're going to beat me anyway, Tom," Abraxas stated defeated bringing Tom's thoughts back to the game.
Tom looked back and saw a weary Abraxas leaning heavily on his hands. "You don't know that. You might win."
As if.
"Hardly," Abraxas said and ordered one of his pieces to move diagonally. Tom shook his head at this; if Abraxas wanted to win then he would have to sacrifice one of his pieces. Sometimes sacrifice was important.
"Check mate," Tom whispered, cornering his queen with another quick move.
Abraxas shrugged nonchalantly, "Another game?" he asked.
"Um...alright."
Abraxas began setting up another game, while Tom thought through the events of the day. They were still 'trapped' in the living room and Mr. Malfoy was somewhere around the house, doing God knew what. Sebastian had stepped out earlier from the living room and even though he called out to him, his brother never returned until a few minutes later. What he did in those few minutes were a mystery to Tom, but Sebastian came back more silent than before. More pensive.
He chanced another glance at his brother and Lady Malfoy and saw that they were still standing next to the window staring into the garden. What were they discussing anyway? Abraxas had apologised for starting the fight but they didn't make Tom apologise for hitting him back. Were they too angry to even ask? Tom squirmed in his seat at the prospect of seeing an angry Harry again. He hated to say it, but...Sebastian was simply frightening.
Although, Sebastian said he would never hurt him, Tom was smart enough to recognise that sometimes...sometimes, it looked like Sebastian couldn't even control his anger. And the magic! That magic that escaped Sebastian like that. As scary as that magic was...Tom dreamed he could have magic like that. Magic that gripped you unrelentingly like death.
"Ready to begin?" Abraxas asked across from him and Tom nodded. He could see that the bruises that Abraxas had started to develop were very faint now that Lady Malfoy saw to him, she had spent quite some time flicking her wand and whispering Latin names – Tom wanted asked why Sebastian didn't use a wand, but he didn't want to seem foolish in front of Abraxas. It was bad enough that the boy saw Tom sitting on Sebastian's lap like a little baby, for crying out loud. Tom focused on the Abraxas again; he didn't seem frightened anymore but he did look really pathetic: his collar ripped, blood stains on the white material and the bruises a now faint, sickly yellow colour. Tom bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about his own anger and how he couldn't control it when Abraxas and the other two boys had pushed him. Perhaps there was still a chance for him to become like his brother – to become fierce and strong and to make people like Mr. Malfoy very afraid of him.
"Tom?" Abraxas sniffed and winced slightly at the use of his damaged nose and Tom almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
"Yeah, let's begin," Tom said and moved his first Pawn.
oOo
"Sorry, by the way. About your face." Tom wasn't really sorry, he would never forget what Abraxas said to him – what he called him and his brother. He would always remember. But Abraxas was the child of Lady Malfoy, and as a favour to her, he would forgive him, but would never forget.
Abraxas looked up and smirked. "This is nothing," – he pointed to his face – "You should have seen me when I fell off my broom a few weeks ago."
Tom frowned at the sentence. Was that a wizarding phrase? To 'fall off a broom'?
"You fell off a ...?"
"Broom, yes, it's only a kiddie one, mind, but Father took the protection charms off it when I begged and begged."
"Protection charms..."
"Yes, there were loads! It was definitely worth it though."
Really?
"My Mr. Aylwin used to be the tutor for Samson Sanderson, you know," Abraxas said pompously. He puffed his chest out a bit. "And he said he would teach me a trick or two that Sanderson taught him."
"Sanderson?"
Abraxas nodded his head excitedly and Tom thought he looked like a toy doing that. "From the Appleby Arrows. A professional Quidditch player, can you believe it?"
Tom shook his head. No, he most definitely couldn't believe it. He couldn't even understand it.
"How long have you had Mr. Aylwin?" Tom asked and hoped the look of longing didn't cross his face like it did his heart.
Shrugging his shoulders, Abraxas moved a chess piece. "Maybe a year? Or almost a year, perhaps." He looked up in the direction of his mother and called out to her. "Mother!"
What was he doing now?
Lady Malfoy stopped mid-sentence in her discussion with Sebastian, who was facing her with his hands crossed against his chest, to frown at her son. "Don't bellow, Abraxas."
"Sorry, Mother," he said, though he didn't look even a little bit sorry. In fact, Tom thought he looked pleased to have his mother's attention – disgruntled or not. "How long has Mr. Aylwin been tutoring me for?"
Lady Malfoy sighed and sent an apologetic look towards Sebastian, whose green eyes crinkled in mild amusement. "It will be a year next month, I think," she paused as she looked at him. "Has he left now, Alcott?"
Abraxas nodded. "He even took Ben and Elliot back to their homes."
Lady Malfoy smiled and turned to look at Sebastian. "I've always liked Alcott, he never seems to panic."
"He seems like a good man from your description," Sebastian offered and Tom hated how tired and worn out he looked. He wished he could go to him and be near him without looking like a total pansy.
"Oh, he is. He's simply wonderful for the boys," she said and Sebastian glanced at Tom as if he felt his eyes on him.
"Why did you ask, Abraxas?" Lady Malfoy wondered.
"Tom was asking that's all, weren't you Tom?"
Tom shrugged and his face reddened; he hated having so many faces trained on him – it was strange having so much attention all at once. "I was just curious. I've never had a proper education." At the orphanage, no one would pay for the children's books and other essentials – no one cared that the orphans weren't getting an education.
There was a period of silence that rang across the room and Tom wished he hadn't said anything as he blushed further.
"Perhaps," his brother began cutting the silence, "once we're more settled in, I'll find you a tutor."
Tom sat straighter in his seat, pleasantly surprised. "Really?" he whispered a smile forming on his lips. Sebastian smiled and nodded once. Tom felt his heart soar; his brother really did think of him didn't he? He wasn't going to hurt him. He was going to raise him.
"Thank you," Tom breathed excited at the prospect.
"Why wait?" Tom looked to Abraxas again who had blurted out the question. "Couldn't he just join Ben, Elliot and I?"
Tom's eyes widened, was Abraxas really offering what he thought he was offering?
"You would want that?" he asked him and the blond nodded energetically. "The class would be more even, too, so Benji wouldn't always have to pair up with Old Baldy!" he smirked.
Tom glanced at Lady Malfoy and tried to gauge her reaction, but she didn't seem affronted by the suggestion (or by Mr. Aylwin's nickname). In fact, she seemed...pleased?
She clapped her hands lightly once. "What a wonderful suggestion, Abraxas," she said and she turned to Tom, a radiant smile gracing her love-heart face. "What do you think? Tom? Sebastian?"
Sebastian frowned and looked slightly uncomfortable. "My Lady, we don't have the money at the moment –"
Tom himself was becoming uncomfortable, suddenly reminded of the argument he had with Sebastian about his job preferences.
"Let me think worry about that. Don't think about the money, Sebastain," Lady Malfoy cut in. "Think about an education –" she turned to Tom, "a future."
And oh, how Tom wanted an education and a future. But, Sebastian was right; they didn't have enough money for anything at the moment and it definitely didn't feel right taking more money from the Lady. She had given them enough really!
And Tom told her so. She laughed when he had finished and Tom imagined that his face was as red as a tomato. "Really, My Lady, we can't keep taking from you all the time," he reasoned.
She shook her head excitedly, hair whipping back and forth, and Tom thought she looked a lot like Abraxas then – minus the smirk. "Consider it an apology from my husband, then."
Tom and Sebastian shared a look across the room, they had almost forgotten about what would happen after they left the manor.
"What do you think, Tommy?" asked his brother, he was no longer facing the window now, all his attention was on Tom.
"Um..."
"Come on, you'll enjoy it, I promise," Abraxas said nudging Tom on the shoulder.
Tom thought about having a tutor, having an education and a future like Lady Malfoy said...
"Alright," he said. Tom smiled a brilliant smile.
AN: I think the quote at the top is accurate especially in the case of Harry and his problems with identity both past and future. Somewhere at the top were some clues as to why Harry rushed headfirst into the past I want to cram in as many chapters as possible before I go on holiday, but I don't want to update anything that I'm not happy about – anyway, the next month will be very trying for me so bare with me.
