Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life. - Thich Nhat Hanh
Eleanor stares at the white snow lining the ground as she walks, carefully leaving as small of a trace as possible. Walks around the grounds were quickly becoming her past-time, the only chance she had to think without being afraid of Tom knowing what she was thinking about. She knew that Tom had been reading up on books about legilimency, but didn't know how far he'd developed a talent for it, and didn't want to risk him knowing her every thought.
An image of Owen Davies appeared in her mind. She'd ran into him on the first day of break, as she was rushing to meet Tom in the library. Even though he was a year above her and they had never spoken before, he had struck up a conversation with her. She hadn't met a friendly face in a while, and was starved for a carefree conversation. They had ended up speaking for half an hour, and she'd had to lie to Tom about where she'd been.
After that, they'd met a few times during that first week of break, and Davies would always be kind enough to speak to her. She had to admit, she'd developed a bit of a crush on him. He was just so nice, and the newness of someone being so kind was an amazing thing.
This morning, she'd run into Davies again. He'd insisted on walking her to the library, and for a second she'd been silly enough to imagine he fancied her too. She hadn't been expecting to see Tom waiting at the entrance to the library – he would usually be reading in the back corner, right by the restricted section. The moment after Davies introduced himself to Tom was the most awkward moment she could imagine.
Tom had promptly taken her hand and pulled her to him, faking a smile, "Why didn't you tell me about you're friend earlier Ella?"
She tried to shrug away from his touch, tried to clarify that she and Tom were not a couple so that Owen wouldn't run off like everyone else did. She fakes a smile back at Tom, but is really watching Owen out of the corner of her eyes for a reaction, "Didn't think it was important. Now, haven't we got a charms essay to write?"
Owen smiles as if nothing is unusual, "Good luck with that Eleanor. See you tomorrow."
She manages to open her mouth and say, "Thanks. Bye Owen."
Tom smirks wickedly at the boy. This stupid boy who's taking all her attention away from him. His charming voice hides his malice as he says, "See you around Davies."
She purposely takes another path to the library to avoid Owen. She doesn't want him to get hurt because of her, and she knew by the tone of Tom's voice yesterday that, if Tom did see Owen with Eleanor again, there was a pretty high likeliness of that happening.
Eleanor frowns at her horrible luck. As soon as she arrived and took a seat next to Tom, he slung his arm around the back of her chair. She was confused by his behavior, until she looked up and saw Owen sitting a few tables down, his eyes darting away from her as soon as she noticed him.
Tom leaned toward her, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, and then whispered, "Don't you dare pull away from me today."
She nodded numbly, recognizing this as one of his rules and afraid of what would happen if she did defy him. She took out her book and tried to start answering the questions she had written down for their potions work. Unfortunately, as soon as her ink touched the page, she felt Tom turn in his chair, facing her, his knees grazing her thigh.
"Look at me," he whispered, making sure that his lips grazed her ear.
She made the mistake of complying, turning her head so that she could do so. As soon as her head was facing his, his arm slipped off the top of her chair, snaking down to her waist, pushing against the small of her back, forcing her to lean forward until their lips collided.
She was nearly breathless when he let go. She wanted to pretend that hadn't happened, so she just turned back to her work. She still couldn't ignore the fact that his fingers were slowly pushing their way under her shirt, rubbing the bare skin of her back.
"What are you doing?" she gasped out after finally regaining the courage to talk. There was no way he was going to assault her like this, in public where anyone could see. She had never thought that was within the realm of possibility, and she just wanted to disappear so badly in that moment, to get away from him and his burning hot lips.
"Putting on a show for the Ravenclaw," he answers simply.
"Why?" She can barely control her voice as his fingers move higher, grazing across her lower back.
"Because, he obviously fancies you, and I need to inform him that you are mine."
She scowled, "I do not belong to you Tom."
"I'm not going to argue with you Ella. And I'm not going to allow him to come near you again. Just sending a bit of a signal to deter him from doing so."
She pulls away from him, a frown on her face, "Well, you need to stop. Madame Pince might see us."
"And is that the only reason you want me to stop? Fancy breaking any rules today?"
She pales, "Of course that's the only reason."
He smirks back, "Good. What's his name again?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"You're coming dangerously close to breaking a rule, Ella."
She blushes and looks back down at her book, "Owen Davies."
"Great," he says with a smirk before turning away from her, "Davies! Why don't you come and sit with us?"
She nearly gasps. How dare he! Of course, Owen has to accept. He sits across from her and asks, "What are you working on?"
"Potions questions," she answers, preparing herself for whatever Tom is about to do.
Owen actually smiles, "That's rough. But then again, you two are Slytherins. Slughorn's bound to like you better than he likes me."
"Being a Slytherin has it's perks sometimes," Tom says, feigning kindness. At the same time, he grabs her hand and pulls it up to the table, interlocking their fingers in plain view, "As I'm sure being a Ravenclaw does too."
She tries to tug her hand away from him, but he won't let go. She suddenly comes up with a brilliant way to point out the fact that she's single to Owen. After all, what girl wants their crush thinking they've already got a boyfriend?
"So, Owen, Hogsmeade is coming up right after break ends. Have you got a date yet?"
"No."
"Me neither."
"Oh, you two aren't..."
She actually laughs, "No."
She glances over at Tom and knows that he's fuming at her for ruining his charade. It might be worth it, as long as Owen doesn't continue to think she's actually dating Tom.
She tries to keep her breathing even, though the fact that she was looking down at the ground, which had to be over 1,000 feet away, certainly would have warranted her hyperventilating. She kept her voice soft in hope of calming him down, "Tom, please let me go."
He smirked as he lifted a few fingers from her right hip. He was holding her out at arms length at the end of the suspension bridge, threatening to push her over and knowing that she was afraid of heights. She knew better then to even think she would have a chance of running away from him without being cursed. His voice was malicious as he said, "Are you sure that's what you want Ella?"
She shook her head as she realized just what a bad idea her words had been. Better for her not to say anything at all.
"Are you going to apologize to me?"
"For what?" As soon as the words exited her mouth, she knew they would provoke him. Why did she have to be so stupid and try to come up with witty retorts at a moment like this?
"You're behavior to me in front of that Ravenclaw."
"He's got a name, you know."
"Oh, really? Would you care to remind me what it is, so that I can punish him too?"
She gulped, "No."
"You have a crush on him."
She tried to keep her face straight, her voice even, as she lied, "No, I don't."
He clicked his tongue in her ear, "Don't think you can get away with lying to me Ella. Try again."
She tries to keep herself from panicking, "I don't have a crush on him."
"Don't you wish that was true," he whispers in her ear, "Feeling bad for what's going to happen to him just because you had the gall to fancy him?"
She screws her eyes shut tight. Tom must be better at legilimency than she had given him credit for. Of course she feels bad that he's going to curse Davies. She's hoping that if she keeps lying, she'll convince him not to do so, "I don't fancy him."
He clicks his tongue again, and she feels his wand against her back, "Don't lie to me Ella."
She knows he wouldn't actually push her off the bridge. Or so she thinks. But, he'll probably do something worse if she steps away from this little charade. She stays completely silent. She knows that the best way for Tom to cool off is if she just gives him time to calm down.
"Did you fancy him?"
She gulps before pushing the word out of her throat, "Yes."
"Would you rather I punish you or him?"
"Me."
He chuckles, "Not very Slytherin of you."
"It isn't his fault."
"I think it is."
Her heart is beating rapidly. She tries to keep her voice strong, "You asked me a question. I answered. My answer isn't going to change."
"I never said I was going to listen to your answer," he says, seeming increasingly bitter.
She turns toward him, placing her hands softly against his chest and allowing him to get a tighter grip on her waist. The embrace feels odd to her, almost foreign, but she ignores the churning in her stomach and tries to calm her shaking. She looks up into his dark eyes, almost pleading, "Tom, just because I do fancy some bloke who I've known for a week and a half, it does not mean that I am going to forget all about you. You need to calm down and realize that, no matter how many probably scummy guys I fancy or date or whatever, you're always going to be my only best friend. You don't need to show anybody that I'm your best friend. I'll gladly say it to them myself. And you don't need to stop people from coming near me. Just tell me you want them gone and they'll be gone. Do you want Davies gone?"
He nods.
She smiles softly, "Then he's gone. I won't speak to him again."
He just pulls her in, her head against his chest, his head resting on hers. They stand like that for a few minutes until he pulls her away a few inches. He leaves one arm around her waist while they walk down to the dungeons together. She thinks he's over the whole thing after thirty minutes of sitting in the common room and reading.
"Come here," he says, his voice soft yet strong all at the same time. She looks up from her position laying on the couch. Curious, she gets up, leaving her book down, and walks in front of him. As soon as she stops moving, he says, "Closer."
"And how exactly am I supposed to do that, considering you're sitting on a bloody armchair?" she asks, looking down at him while raising an eyebrow.
"Like this," he says, with a playful smirk as he guides her forward. She kneels, her legs folded on either side of his, sitting on his legs. He pulls her forward, so that their forehead are touching.
He seems to be analyzing her face for a second before he whispers, "You were wrong earlier."
"What?" she asks, confused.
"When you said I didn't need to show people that we were best friends. Yes, I do."
"Why?" she asks curiously, hoping she'll finally be able to decode his odd behavior as of late.
"Because they'll take you away from me if I give them a chance to."
She understands completely, because they're both orphans and had everything taken away from them but each other. "I won't let them."
He looks away, "Yes, you will. You want other friends. I can tell. I'm not good enough for you anymore."
She giggles softly, "You? Not good enough for me? I think it's the other way around, Tom."
He looks at her, eyes hard, "Please don't joke. I'm serious. I have to keep people away from you."
"No, you don't. It will be fine, I promise. Just give me the chance to prove it – let me actually have a social life. I promise I won't just forget about you."
"I'll think about it."
She nods. Should have expected that. He stares at her for another few seconds, his blank expression slipping away to one she recognizes as worry, "Are you going to leave me?"
"Of course not."
"Never?" She just nods. He's still looks worried as he asks, "You promise?
She swallows hard and looks away. She knows if she makes this promise, he really will never allow her to leave. But what else is she supposed to say? "I promise I'll never leave you."
He smiles. It's one of his rare, real smiles. He doesn't say anything to her, but he does hold her there for a few minutes. Finally, he whispers, "This doesn't mean you can go frolicking about with Davies again."
Even though there's a joking tone to his voice, she knows he's serious.
She lets him drag her up to his room because she has to admit that today's fight completely tired her out. He kisses her cheek as they're about to fall asleep and says, "Sleep well Ella."
She laughs, "Yeah, just as well as I have been sleeping lately..."
"I learned a spell to keep nightmares away. That was what I was doing in the library yesterday."
She smiles, "You shouldn't have bothered so much. I'm sure they'll just go away on their own. Besides, dreams are meant to tell you things about your inner thoughts and all."
Which would mean that I think you're bloody frightening and you're going to end up killing me, not that I'd tell you that...she thought.
"Well, now that you've had the same nightmare over and over again, I really don't think it can offer you many new signs. Can I do the spell?"
She thinks about it for a second, but she feels okay tonight. She doesn't feel afraid to be going to sleep like she usually does. Maybe that means the nightmares are going to stop on their own. So, instead, she smiles up at him and says, "I don't think I need it. I just need you to be here."
"Alright. Goodnight."
She was wrong about the nightmares. They didn't go away, they were just altered a little.
She imagined herself being dragged down a long hall – a hall she felt was familiar for some reason. There were two burly men on either side of her, wearing odd silver masks with markings she didn't recognize. They had her arms tied, and the man on the right was holding the rope connected to her arms, yanking her along.
She felt immense fear overcome her – and yet, at the same time, she felt calm washing over her. She looked around again, at the men beside her, and noticed that one was showing a mark on his arm. A snake and a skull. Snakes...who did she know that liked snakes? Something in the back of her mind tried to warn her, and yet she was still not prepared as she was dragged up to a set of doors. Seconds later, they were thrown open to reveal the only person she had ever truly feared – or loved.
Tom was sitting on what seemed like a throne at the end of the room. Only he didn't look like the Tom she remembered – he looked older, his features sharper. Yet, that wasn't the greatest difference. There was something that she couldn't put to words that was different about him, something far less obvious than his appearance.
She actually smiled as she saw him. Well, if Tom was here it couldn't be too bad. He'd only accidentally killed her in her last few nightmares...
She was surprised by how roughly she was thrown down onto the floor, right at his feet, looking up at him as if hoping he would untie her and let her go and be that Tom Riddle she had known since they were four years old, not the angry, hard Tom that was emerging with increasing frequency.
She was wrong to hope, for his next action was to walk up to her. He harshly grabbed her chin, and, as she was made to stare up at him, she noticed her own reflection in a mirror on the wall to her right. She had aged too, she realized, probably by at least five years.
"You promised you would never leave me," his cold voice was just as menacing as it always was, "You will be punished for breaking your promise Eleanor."
His lips were consuming hers again, but this time it felt as if he was attempting to swallow her whole. That familiar burning sensation was starting again. Now it was stronger. Fiercer. Engulfing not just her lips, but all of her skin. His hands were roaming over her again, and the scene shifted suddenly. Now they were alone in a foreign bedroom. But his hands were still creating those familiar gashes on her skin. Only now, there was no blood. Just pain. Searing pain. So bad, she was surprised it didn't wake her up.
Suddenly, he tore her clothes away from her, using the same spell he had used the night of the Yule Ball. There were no more kisses. No more touching. Just the sensation that was him pounding into her, taking away her innocence and hope and every happy emotion she had ever felt and leaving only the feeling of being desperate, being trapped, being completely forlorn.
She felt herself being torn apart from the inside, as if someone had taken a machete, made her swallow it, and then spelled it to rip her organs out one by one.
She didn't gasp as she woke this time. She just silently sobbed. And even though she knew it was all a silly dream, she couldn't get the images out of her mind.
Tom woke beside her. He leaned up, pulling her into his arms, whispering reassuring words in her ear as he rocked her back and forth and kissed her hair.
For a second, she was mortified. She had thought of her best friend that way. She couldn't believe it. She was sure that Tom would laugh at her if he knew. She was just so embarrassed. And then she realized that, though she had such a dream about him, the dream hadn't been good and she hadn't enjoyed it. She hadn't wanted it. Surely that made it okay. Well, not okay. It was not okay to have dreams about your best friend killing you in horrid ways. But, other than that, everything was just fine.
Who was she kidding? She was a mess. She wasn't the person she had wanted to be. Now she was even a mess while sleeping.
Her crying stopped. Her breathing calmed. Upon noticing this, Tom leaned down and asked, "Are you okay Ella?"
"Not yet, but I will be. As long as you're here."
He pulled her closer, "I will always be here."
"Can you...can you please do the spell?" Eleanor asked, knowing she needed to be able to sleep. At least magic could fix one thing in her life.
"Want a break?" Tom asks, looking over at Eleanor who is glaring at her DADA essay as if she's trying to light it on fire without a spell. In fact, he swears one of the corners of the parchment is actually sizzling.
She looks up at him, thrown partly out of her current thinking pattern, which revolves around the fact that DADA is completely useless and they should just learn how to curse people back instead. She smirks a little as she realizes that even Tom is looking at her like she's insane now, "Sure. Let's get some fresh air. These dungeons are so stuffy."
They walk out to the snow, Eleanor leading as she takes the same path around the grounds she uses on her walks alone. Once again, they don't need words. Each knows exactly how the other is feeling – Eleanor, anxious, tired, restless, and Tom, drained, frustrated, tense. Tom catches Eleanor's eyes darting around the skyline and reaches out to hold her hand, knowing she's bothered by the fact that, even after the nightmares subsided last night, she'd hardly been able to stay asleep for more than a half hour at a time. He knew she felt guilty about waking him so many times too – and unsure about the fact that she had really needed him last night, needed him to sit with her in his arms and kiss her forehead reassuringly and tell her that everything was okay. Neither of them liked needing anyone, so it was hard for them to admit they needed each other. She'd even seemed a bit disturbed by the fact that she needed him so much, though it had calmed him because he had known he needed her for a long time – ever since he'd admitted to himself that he loved her.
She notices that he's looking at her and projects a faint smile. She knows he's worried – much too worried for his own good, because he's swamped with classwork and she knows he would hate it if he slipped from first in their class. She's caught those sideways looks he gives her when he thinks she's reading or sleeping or just staring at the fire. There's something odd about the way he looks at her, but she just puts it down to his worry and tries to keep her spirit up for his sake, even when she's so deprived of sleep she's about to collapse.
There's really no need for speech when you know each other as well as these two do, so the silence is comfortable. They ease into the pattern of silence and soft footsteps. She starts to withdraw into her own mind, but is shocked out of it when she feels Tom's thumb trail over her hand, bringing her back to the present. She looks over at him, knowing he wants to say something.
"If you're tired, we can go back and you can get a few hours of sleep before dinner."
That faint smile is back, "I'm fine."
"Ella, you aren't fine. What's wrong with you lately?"
She hesitates but decides to tell him, "I don't know. I just feel...scared."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regrets them. He looks even more worried as he mutters, "Of what?"
She doesn't say anything, not wanting to tell Tom that she's scared of him. Not wanting to know what his reaction to that will be. She just shrugs, "I don't know."
She really doesn't know. Why would she be scared of him? He's like her unofficially adopted older brother. Why in the world would she ever dream of him killing her? He could be scary sometimes, but he had never really hurt her badly. He'd bruised her, he'd nearly broken her arm, he'd yelled at her, and he'd made her cry. She could list plenty more offenses - but he'd always been there to help her pick up the pieces and move on afterward. She didn't believe that he would ever even think of killing her. So maybe it wasn't him that she was really afraid of. Even after the nightmares ended last night, thanks to the spell he had cast, she hadn't been able to get rid of the anxiousness and fear. It had to be something else. Which, she guessed, was the reason that she had been so engrossed in her own thoughts lately, She had probably been subconsciously trying to resolve something.
"You have nothing to be scared of while I'm here," Tom says. She looks up at his face, recognizing the sincerity in his eyes, and knows that he's completely right. He would protect her from anything. Even from her own twisted, depressed mind.
A few seconds later, he stops under the old oak tree by the lake. Eleanor is surprised by the interruption in their walk, but she stops right in front of him as he turns to face her. His grip on her hand grows stronger as he says, "I would die for you Ella."
She freezes, holding the breath she had just taken. Death was the one thing Tom hated most. He was never willing to even consider the idea of his dying. It was as if death didn't exist to him. She had never even heard him say the word out loud. Until now. Eleanor tries to compose herself and say it back, but she chokes on her words. He doesn't seem to expect her to say anything, but that only relieves her guilt slightly.
He finally just smiles and says, "Want to go back, or would you prefer to turn into an icicle?"
She laughs, "I would prefer to stay out for a bit longer."
He recognizes the conspiracy in her eyes and raises an eyebrow warily, "What have you got planned?"
"Nothing. Oh, look at the Quidditch pitch, someone just fell off their broom!" Her horrible acting convinces him to turn and look up at the sky above the pitch. She takes the chance to whip out her wand and point it at the snow, quickly casting a snowball that she promptly throws at his chest as he turns. Giggling, she retreats to behind the tree, but Tom follows her, casting a few of his own snowballs for revenge.
Twenty minutes later, she begs for forgiveness as a smirking Tom traps her against the tree, smirking and holding a snowball in his right hand. He drops the snowball and leans closer into her, taking her hands and rubbing them with his. Her fingers were pale and ice cold. He knew he should have told her to wear mittens and a scarf before they went outside.
"You're going to get sick now Ella," he chides.
"No, I am not," she comments, all of her stubbornness showing.
"The lady doth protest too much," he says with a smirk. She sticks out her tongue in response, a childish move, but it makes him start laughing. Which is a real surprise, because Tom rarely ever laughs. And a smile too, once he's stopped laughing. He's in a very good mood today.
He takes off his scarf and wraps it around her, ignoring the fact that it's much too long for her. She looks up at him, pouting, "I'm still cold."
"Then let's go inside."
"I don't want to go inside yet! We spend so much time inside," she complains.
"Fine," he says, his arms wrapping around her and drawing her closer. His head goes to rest in the crook of her neck, and they're back to their familiar position. Something feels fixed between them. He feels like she trusts him again. The thought is backed up by the fact that she doesn't cringe or move away, so he places one lone lingering kiss in the hollow between her neck and collarbone. She tries to ignore the warmth that spreads through her at his touch.
She closes her eyes as her head rests against his shoulder, letting herself relax for a minute. Her lips part with some hesitation as she quietly whispers, "Tom?"
His dark eyes gaze into hers, all consuming, demanding her full attention, "Yes Ella?"
Her voice is soft, and even though there's a degree of uncertainty in her eyes as she gazes back at him, she sounds completely sincere, "You're my hero."
Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell. - John Crawford
A/N: Finally done! I've been editing this all day. I hope you like the last part, as it was a new addition to the chapter. So, this chapter has jealous/possessive Tom and cute/sweet (but in a creepy, kind of off-putting way) Tom. Next chapter will be up by Sep. 9. I do spoil you all :)
I didn't get a lot of reviews for the last chapter (and my criteria for a lot is like five, so I'm not really asking for much), which was kind of disappointing. I thought everyone hated the last chapter! :/
Thank you for reading :) Please review if you have any questions/comments/kind words. Requests for what gifts they should give each other would be appreciated.
