HAPPY LEAP YEAR!
I know that's not a thing, but still. I stayed up passed midnight listening to Michael McIntyre so I could post this and wake up to comments... heh. Hope you like it
Tuesday, May 9, 1995
Library
Eden sat on the hard, wooden chair, surrounded by first years.
She had been studying on her own when they had slowly come up to her, and now she was the 'leader' of a group of four Ravenclaws, three Hufflepuffs, two Slytherins, and a single Gryffindor who had an older brother in Slytherin—Markus had graduated the year before.
They had studied quite diligently for the first hour that they had all gathered together, now however, they all laughed at a story that Lucy—an adorable Ravenclaw who adored trying to make new spells—had decided to grace them with of her most recent attempt.
"—and then he just kind of went poof! I found him a week later in the toilet."
The group started to laugh, and everything was happy, until the first years suddenly stopped when they looked behind her, and their eyes widened as their faces paled. She turned around in her seat, and her eyes fell upon a group of seventh year Gryffindors.
She recognized them as the group who had ambushed her in March.
"This is our table," the one in the dead center snarled.
She lifted a brow as a smirk tugged at her lips. "Really? I don't—I don't see a name on it." She turned to look at the cowering students that she tutored, "do any of you see a name?" They all hesitantly shook their heads, and she turned back to the Gryffindors. "Ah, see? You must be mistaken."
"No, I'm not. This is our table. We always sit here."
Her head tilted to the side, and she spotted another table with three more Gryffindors—her brother and his friends. "You know, actually, I think that's your table over there." She pointed her finger, and glowing words appeared above the three lions who were watching with either glee, apathy, or worry.
This table belongs to Idiotic, Overgrown Housecats, and Hermione Granger.
She was pleased to see the girl cover her mouth as her shoulders started to shake after she snorted.
"You bitch!"
Her attention was brought back to the seventh years. She straightened her head, and narrowed her eyes, even as she started to laugh at them. Her eyes catalogued every movement they made, and her mind spun with the endless possibilities of how the confrontation would end. "No, you see, I'm not a dog. I'm human. But, if you really want to hurt my feelings, you'll have to try a little bit harder, dear. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to help our fellow classmates' study for their exams. In fact, one of them is a darling little lion, who you should be helping, and I'm actually kind of insulted that you bullied her into believing that she doesn't belong there because Markus was a Slytherin. Shame on you. You should all be thrown into the mud."
The biggest of the group pulled his wand, and she immediately raised a Clear Shield around her and the first years. "Go ahead, I dare you to try and hurt me."
The Clear Shield, while not as strong as a Raw or Diamond Shield, was still extraordinarily strong, and only Curses could get through it—the kind that she didn't think they'd know, especially since most were Dark in nature, and near impossible for Light types to cast. The problem with the Clear Shield, however, is it took much more magic than any other shield, due to the sheer amount of power it needed to keep it clear and to keep your opponent unaware of it.
The seventh year snarled, and a bright purple light left his wand, and made contact with her shoulder, and the bitter stench of Dark Magic being misused filled the air. She winced at the pain that flared, and blinked back the tears that automatically formed.
What had he cast that got through her Shield?
"What is going on here?"
She had never loved Madam Pince more than when she interrupted his second spell, which could have hit any of the students at the table, as the Shield had fallen. Madam Pince didn't give the seventh years the option, or opportunity to reply.
Apparently, just seeing their wands was enough to accuse them.
"You five are hereby banned from the library until the end of the school year. You are not allowed to check out any books. Get out of my sight, and make sure to report to Professor Snape for detention every night for the next two weeks at 8 PM sharp."
Magic tightened in the air at the irate woman's words, and the five lions left the library with their tails tucked between their legs. The woman turned to the group of eleven. "Thank you, Madam," they all intoned.
"Of course. Are you all alright?"
The first years all nodded their cute little heads, and Eden inclined her head, more than unwilling to admit that she couldn't feel her left arm. "We're fine. Thank you for your concern, Madam, and thank you for your help," she answered with just enough emotion in her voice to give the impression that she was unaffected by what had just occurred.
The librarian nodded, and stepped away from them while she muttered under her breath something about detentions. After she as gone, the group continued on with their studying, the good cheer destroyed. She ignored the looks that the hatchlings were sending her—apparently, her tricks were not good enough to fool Slytherins (even if they were only first years).
Her brother and his friends left a short while later, and as they walked by, a little note landed on the table next to her. She swiftly opened it with the aid of magic, and read it while the first years continued with their essays.
Noah,
You need to get that checked out.
It's a paralyzing Curse, and if it's not treated in time, your entire body will be paralyzed, and the only thing that will be able to heal you would be Aether Magik.
Hermione Granger
Eden smiled at the letter, and turned to see the pale girl bite her lip as she nervously stood by a bookshelf—somehow, she had ditched Harry and the Weasel. She saw the unasked question in nervous brown eyes, and nodded her head. She whispered to the first years that she remembered that she had something she needed to do, and that she would be able to meet with them at the end of the week if they still wanted her help.
She ignored the four thumbs up that the hatchlings sent her as she stood.
She stopped next to Granger, and smiled at her. "Do you want to come with me to the hospital wing?"
Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. "Why?"
"Well, you see, I currently don't have the ability to defend myself as I usually would, what with the fact that I can't feel my left arm, at all, and, you seem to know what Curse it is, and since I don't know what it is, I think it would be best if you accompanied me."
The girl paled slightly, and bit her lip again. "What if me doing that, people think that you're hurting me?" she demanded in a soft voice.
A smile spread Eden's lips. "I know you don't trust me, which is completely understandable. Despite that, I'm going to trust you with something that could very well get me expelled." The girl nodded. "I created an object over the summer, and it allows me to be unseen, like the disillusionment spell. You and I can walk to the hospital wing together, and only you will be seen." The older girl frowned for a moment, before she nodded.
Eden kept her hand in her robe pockets as she activated her Ring, and once she was invisible, she placed her hand on the suddenly frantic girl's shoulder. "Shall we go?"
Granger gaped wide-eyed at her voice, and the sudden weight on her shoulder. "You have to tell me how you did that."
"Alright."
As the two girls walked to the hospital wing, the two carefully, and quietly talked, and she explained only the theory behind her Ring—she'd explain how she did it if the girl proved to be open to the Darker sides of Magic.
Muggleborns were always an unknown when it came to Dark Magic, as most had either a Darker Light type Core, or a Lighter Dark type Core, or, more commonly, a Neutral type Core.
Hospital Wing
As Madam P and Snakey-Snape painstakingly healed her, with Granger standing off to the side as she watched with rapt attention, Eden decided that she would do almost anything to get Granger onto her side.
Saturday, May 12, 1945
Head Dorms
Eden flopped onto the bed and groaned.
"Are you still having issues with Hera?" Tom asked amused. He moved from his desk and laid on the bed next to her, and draped his arm around her and pulled her close to him, so her side pressed against his chest.
She nodded her head and groaned into the bed once more. "I can't seem to be able to get her away from Bunny or Weasel, and every time I get close to her when she is away from them, they seem to show up in three minutes flat! Before I can even talk to her about plans! It's awful."
He hummed in the back of his throat and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and she relaxed slightly. "Were you able to Scan her Core like I suggested?"
They had also made a bet on what type she would be, and neither were right.
Tom was closer though.
She turned onto her side and curled into his embrace. She shoved one of her legs in between his, and draped an arm over his side as she nodded her head. "Yeah. She's a Neutral Core type, like we thought."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her closer, and slipped an arm under her head. "Which one exactly?" She tilted her head up and captured his lips in a deep kiss. Their tongues tangled for a minute before he bit her bottom lip and pulled away. He licked the ache, and laughed softly. "That's not going to work, love. Which Core type is she?"
She groaned and buried her face into his neck. "If I tell you, you win the bet."
He pressed a wet, open mouthed kiss against her neck, and she shivered at the feel of his tongue on her skin. "I figured," he murmured against her neck before he licked it again. She sighed softly and pushed closer to him. "So, she's a Neutral Dark Gray Core?" She groaned again, and nodded once more. He gently bit her neck, before he licked it again. He suctioned his lips to her skin, and sucked harshly for a moment. "You didn't lose by much," he murmured once he pulled away. He shifted their positions, and pressed his lips to her right clavicle and sucked harshly on it, and earned a soft moan in reward. "I just said that I thought she was a Neutral Gray Core."
"And I thought she was a Pure Neutral Core. I still lost."
It was less that she thought the girl was a Pure Neutral, and more that she hoped the girl was a Pure Neutral. If she was a Pure Neutral, she would be safe from the Dark Addiction, and she could cast Medela Aer and other Dark healing spells.
Tom rolled her onto her back and hovered over her. He pressed his lips to hers, and licked his way into her mouth. He propped himself on his left forearm, and his right hand slid down the bed before it landed on her side underneath her shirt. His hand moved slowly up and down her side as his tongue leisurely tangled with her own.
He pulled away, and brought his hand out from under her shirt and stroked the side of her face. She tilted her head and pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. "At least she's not a Light type Core."
It took a moment for her to remember what they were talking about, but when she did, she groaned and nipped at his bicep next to her head. "Please no!" she groaned over his laughter. "None of the plans to have her become a healer like the world has never seen before would work if she were a Light type Core."
He tilted her head up, and pressed a kiss to her lips. "How do you know that she even wants to be a healer?"
She shrugged. "I don't. But, over the years she's seemed to be very interested in the healing aspect of potions, defensive spells, charms, and even transfiguration. She might want to become a politician, but I believe that she most likely wants to become a healer. I'll ask her about it the next time that I'm able to talk to her in private."
He nodded and lowered himself, so his hips now pinned her to the bed. His free hand that wasn't propping him above her, slid under her neck and lifted her head. "Enough talking now," he murmured.
She smiled, and before she could agree, he captured her lips into a deep kiss that had her toes curling, and her eyes seeing stars.
Sunday, May 13, 1945
Compartment 1—Training Arena
Tom had gotten a stupid idea.
And because of his stupid idea, Eden was currently in the process of being tortured by his 'brilliant'—come on, love, please? Everything will be fine, I promise—idea.
He hadn't even told her what it was.
To say she was pissed, would be an understatement.
"Come on, love, one more time," he insisted with what she assumed was supposed to be an encouraging smile.
It was encouraging.
It just wasn't encouraging her to actually work though.
Murder sounded like quite a brilliant idea at that point.
She looked up from where she was crouched over, and shaking from Drainage. She shook her head and panted harshly after an intense coughing fit that the action caused. "I can't, Tom. I'm sorry."
"Love, I know you're tired. I also know that you can do it."
She coughed a few more times before she straightened and glared at him, and her frustrations took over fully. He had been pushing her far beyond her limits, and she was so tired. A normal person could only train like she had for so long before they snapped from the stress—and she had been training for months.
"I. Can't. Do. It."
He sighed, and instead of backing off like she had hoped he would, he shot a slimy, black spell at her that had tentacle-like tendrils that reached for her.
Betrayal burned through her stomach for a moment before she jumped to the side and sent the counter spell at the wraiths, and glared at Tom. "Really? The Phantom Form Curse? Are you trying to kill my soul, Tom?"
The Phantom Form Curse was similar to a Dementor's Kiss, only instead of leaving a person a husk, it turned them into a Dementor.
He said nothing, and only tilted his head towards her. "Eden, you can do it."
Her legs trembled, and she shook her head. "Why?"
He shot an acidic green Curse at her instead of answering. She hastily erected a Raw Shield. The Curse collided with her Shield, paused for a moment, before it shattered the too-weak protection, and hit her in the chest.
She was tossed back and fell to the ground, and was caught by far too many Helpful Pillows as a boiling rage consumed her whole. The rage grew, and grew, and continued to grow until her skin started to bubble, and Tom canceled the Curse.
She trembled on the ground, as his footsteps slowly walked towards her. He stood over her. "You're better than that, Eden." He had spoken with a mixture of disappointment and apathy, as he looked at her with the same emotions in his eyes.
Her heart shattered.
She glared at him, angry beyond all belief as the fury from the Curse of Acidic Rage still coursed through her blood. She stood from where she had fallen and battered away a Pillow she had named Fred—she was half-convinced that it was sentient, and in love with her. It was splattered with her blood, and was always faster than the rest to catch her.
Tears spilled down her face. "Damn you, Tom Riddle," she hissed, her voice raw.
His eyes flashed for a moment. "Say whatever you want, Eden. I'm trying to keep you alive." He swallowed, and an emotion flitted across his face far too quickly for her to be able to figure it out. "If me keeping you alive makes you hate me . . . s-so be it."
He sent the Laceration Curse at her, and she stood there, and did nothing as cuts formed along her body and face. "I'm Drained, Tom. I can't. Do it."
"I checked your Core before I told you to do it again. You've barely used a fifth of it."
"Then why am I Drained?"
He casually shrugged, and her heart pounded painfully in her chest as blood dripped down her body, and started to pool on the floor around her. "I don't know."
His eyes said he did.
Her eyes narrowed. "Screw this shit, and screw you, Tom." She turned and marched toward the stairs until she was hit from a spell from behind. She flipped forward, and flew head over heels until her upper back slammed into the railing with a painful pop.
She landed harshly on the ground, and coughed up blood.
"You're weak, Eden."
Agony tore at her heart, and tears filled her eyes as she snapped out of her anger. "It's taken you four and a half years to finally realize that? Welcome to the Club, Tom. Everyone already knows that. Hell, Dragon told me that I was too weak just before I Locked my Core away. But guess what. That doesn't matter. You want to know why? It's because I'm the Leader of Club Weak Eden." As she spoke, she pulled herself to her feet, and bit her lip at the feeling of her broken rib moving under her skin.
She turned away from him. She heard his intake of air, and a muffled curse, but ignored him—how it ached to ignore him. Agony tore at her body and heart as she lifted herself onto the first stair. Arms wrapped gently around her waist to stop her.
She snapped completely.
Her magic tore out of her in a hideous wave, and ripped him off of her. She turned around and glared at her boyfriend. "You don't get to touch me after that."
She fisted her hand, and a thin line of magic gathered on her knuckles, and she punched him in the face. He didn't block her, and for that, he got a cut on his upper cheekbone, and she got a painful bruise on her hand.
"You don't get to hold me after you've insulted me in the most painful way possible."
He stepped away from her, and sent a blast of fire at her. She jumped over the fire, and kept her right leg bent, and straightened her left leg, and kicked it out at him as she fell. A thin blade of magic left the sole of her foot, and a tear in his shirt formed as it quickly began to stain red.
He flicked his right wrist up, so it was perpendicular to his arm, and his fingers were bent, and three thin steel blades left the heel of his palm, and sliced into her. A tear formed on her sports bra, right over the scar that she got—assumed she got—from when the Dark Lord attacked Harry.
She doubled over in pain and cried out as a throb of pure agony shot from the scar, and her heart stuttered to a stop in her chest. She dug her nails into the raw and bleeding scarred skin, and her heart kicked back into gear with a painful jolt.
Tom stepped towards her, and opened his mouth to speak, but she straightened and spoke over him. "I thought you were different. Different from them. From him."
From her papa.
She punched him again, and landed an upper cut to his left jaw, and latched onto the side of his neck, as he sliced into her side with a whip of Raw Magic. She cried out, and he punched her in the stomach, and she was forced to stop pushing painful waves of magic into him. He sent a pulse of his own magic into her, and she jumped up and back, and landed twenty feet away from him, as she breathed deeply.
Somehow, she had forgotten in her anger and betrayal, that Tom gave as good as he got. He always had, and he always would.
As she glared at him, and saw him start to gather his own magic into fine little projectiles, her magic unBound itself completely. Her hair was torn out of its high ponytail, and her feet lifted off of the ground slightly. "You're hurting me . . . just as he did."
She summoned a metal staff that had deadly spikes all over it, except for where her hands would touch. If her hands moved, the spikes would move to a different part of the staff. She ran towards him, and swung it at his head. He dodged to the side, and just barely missed being brained, and the little projectiles he made faded.
He sent a deadly wave of Raw Magic towards her, and she spun the staff, and dissipated it with Ancient Battle Magick.
She slammed the butt of the spiky quarterstaff against the ground, and the top of it was encased in Black Fire. She turned to the side, and swung the staff to her right, where he was. The deadly flames shot towards him, and he quickly erected a Black Shield before the magic-sucking flames could touch him.
"I thought you loved me," her voice cracked, and agony—misery torment woe torture—pierced her heart once more.
The full weight and power of his magic surged forward, and easily fought through her own hazy rage until he was able to bind her in place. He also subdued the deadly force that was completely connected to her fatal emotions.
"Believe what you want," he hissed as he held her face in his large hands, "but don't you ever doubt my love for you again."
Her magic ate through the bonds that held her, and tossed him away from her. "Then why say all of that?" Tears spilled out of her eyes as her lips trembled.
"To get you to unBind your magic."
A choked sob escaped her tight throat. "My magic is too dangerous to just do that, Tom. You know that! I could hurt someone. You know I need to be calm and safe for it to be safe for me to unBind my Core."
He shook his head, and tried to smile placatingly at her. "It's not, love. You won't hurt anyone. You were angry, but you were safe. Your magic knew that."
Despair ate at her as the insults he had used to get his way echoed through her mind. Her magic—which currently had a mind entirely of its own (and was servant to her emotions)—wrapped around him, lifted him up, and tossed him away. He was caught on the other side of the room by the Helpful Pillows—Fred, ever the loyal Pillow, stayed next to her (she'd bet money that he'd be a Hufflepuff).
She quickly reBound her magic with great difficulty, as she was no longer used to Binding the entirety of it at once. When he stood and started towards her, as his magic reached for her, she grabbed her wand from her holster, and pointed it at her temple.
It was the only way.
"Rennervate."
Sunday, May 14, 1995
Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2
It hurt more awake, than it did asleep.
Granted, it always hurt more awake than asleep. She never told Tom, but the pain she felt when she was with him was always dulled than when she woke up.
Honestly, the only thing that ever felt real when she was with him were his kisses. His touch, while electrifying, firm, and grounding, almost felt as if he were trying to touch her through a thin layer of fabric.
She breathed deeply, and she cried out as multiple of the lacerations on her stomach were tugged. She curled into a small ball, and sobbed desperately for a few minutes as she tightly reBound a large portion of her magic away before she loosely Bound what was left of her Core. Once that was done, she lay there for what felt like an eternity as she sobbed, and sobbed.
She twitched, and pain shook her entire body once more.
Eventually, the pain grew too much, and she climbed out of her blood-soaked bed. When she looked up, nausea filled her soul when she saw faint scratches on Daphne's, Pansy's, Millicent's, and Ambrosia's—she must have fallen asleep studying again (she had been doing that a lot more lately)—exposed skin.
Her loose magic unBound, and brushed over them, and healed the wounds. She whispered a silent apology, and left, shame eating away at her heart.
Slytherin Boys Fourth Year Dorm—2
"Eden? What happened?" Draco demanded softly after she woke him up.
Eden was quiet with her tears, as she didn't want to wake Theo or Blaise up. She bit her lip as she carefully climbed onto the bed next to him. She bled profusely from the injuries, and her heart ached—throbbed prayed begged yearned—more than her body did.
"Backfired spell," she answered through a short gasp when he sat up and moved to be on top of the covers like her. "Can you fix it?"
He playfully glared at her, although it was marred by the worry in his eyes. "Of course, I can." He grabbed her hands and began to cast a silent spell. "Why are you crying?"
You're weak, Eden.
"It hurts."
He lifted an unamused brow, and she squirmed at both the look, and the feel of her skin stitching itself back together. "Why else?"
You're better than that, Eden.
She looked down, and watched his fingers turn black, and as hard as stone. She blinked away the tears before she looked into his pitch-black eyes. The coloring faded as he lifted his brow again, and she stared into the silvery depths that seemed to be able to pierce straight through her soul.
"I had a bad dream," she eventually answered. It was only after he poked her with his rock-hard fingers a couple—twelve—times though.
"What level? Like, was it Rothound or the Dark Lord attacking you?"
"It's its own kind of monster."
His eyes widened at the implications, and he carefully wrapped her aching body in his long arms, and pulled the covers over them. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked after a moment of silence.
Her eyes widened, and her heart stuttered before she buried her face in his chest as tears started to fall down her face. "No. I just wanna forget about it."
He rubbed her back. "I'll get some Dreamless Sleep from Uncle Severus."
She held him tighter, and her sobs grew stronger.
"Thank you."
Trunk Bedroom—Bathroom
That night, when she stood in front of the mirror before she climbed into the tepid water of her large bathtub, she stared at the pale scars that decorated her body, and would forever remain a reminder of their fight.
Wednesday, May 17, 1995
Hogwarts Library
"Is everything alright?"
Eden flinched, and wiped at the tears on her face. She looked up and saw Hermione standing there, obviously very concerned.
"What?"
The lightly tanned girl sat down and turned the chair to face her. "Did you get into a fight with one of your friends?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You're crying into a book. That's what I do whenever I get into a fight with either Ron or Harry."
Eden huffed softly, and wiped at more tears and shook her head. "No. Not with one of my friends."
"Who?"
"Tom—he's—he's my boyfriend."
Understanding filled the older girl's eyes, and she moved to the chair next to her, and wrapped her arms around her. "Shh," she soothed. No matter how hard she tried, Eden couldn't stop the tears, and started to sob earnestly into Hermione's hold.
She was the first person she told about the fight. All of her friends thought that it was just a nightmare . . . although . . . Ambrosia was convinced it was something more, and due to that, Draco and Pansy were starting to think the same thing.
"It's okay. I'm sure everything will work out."
)()()(
Harry looked up from the book in his hands, and stopped short. His head tilted to the side of its own will, and he followed his ears to the sobbing he heard in the back corner where Hermione sometimes liked to study.
He stopped when he saw his sister.
She was wrapped in his best friend's arms, and was practically in her lap while she was sobbed while Hermione rocked her side to side.
"I just—I miss him!" she hiccupped.
"I'm sure Tom will forgive you if you just go meet up with him again, Eden."
"But—I did some pretty awful things." What had his innocent baby sister done that could be qualified as awful?
"From what you told me, Tom said and did some pretty awful things too."
Rage filled him, and he hated himself.
He didn't have the right to think about Noah that way, not after the way he had treated her. He didn't have the right to feel that way, protective over her, after the way he treated her. He didn't have the right to be jealous and over-protective over the fact that his little sister had apparently found someone named 'Tom' and had gotten into a fight with him.
The fact that his name was Voldemort's only made the following rage—this time directed at Noah—only worse.
How dare she?
How dare she find someone?
How dare she fall in love?
Horror filled him. What if it was Voldemort that she had fallen in love with?
Harry had started receiving 'supplemental lessons' after Noah's name had been drawn, as Professor Dumbledore thought that it might be an indication that he—Voldemort—was making a move against him.
What if his move was to put her in the Tournament . . . and then woo his sister?
His face contorted into a sneer of disgust.
Apparently along with being a pervert, the 'darkest wizard in history' thought that he and his sister were close.
No.
That phrase—even the phrase of being on speaking terms—couldn't be further from the truth.
He wanted Noah gone.
He wanted Noah to stand by his side until they both died.
He didn't know what he wanted when it came to Noah.
)()()(
Eden pulled away from Hermione and wiped at her eyes. "Thanks."
"Of course." She reached out and wiped at her tears. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
She shook her head before she thought for a moment. "No . . .. But, say, what do you want to do after you graduate?"
She smiled. "I want to be a healer," she said instantly.
"Really?" She couldn't help the curl of satisfaction that ate at her.
"Yeah. I want to specialize in healing magical creatures."
She smiled. "You'll be great at it." She had two years to work on that little aspiration—two years to make her see her point of view.
"Of course, she will. She's Hermione Granger. The brightest witch of our age."
She flinched, and looked to her brother, and saw the conflicted emotions in his eyes. She couldn't tell what they were—she no longer knew who he was—only that he was conflicted. "Harry," she said, the pain and hurt only slightly masked, and the tears threatened to fall again.
Hermione stroked her back as he spoke, "Noah."
Eden turned to Hermione. "Thanks for helping me. I'll see you around."
She was gone before anyone could make her stop.
She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
Sunday, May 21, 1995
Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2
She took the Dreamless Sleep potion for a week before she went back to him.
She would have taken it for longer, but her heart hurt too much.
Monday, May 21, 1945
Head Dorms
"I'm sorry," Tom chanted as he held Eden tight against him.
He pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes. He had dark circles around his own, and he looked completely exhausted, and not put together at all. His eyes had a feverish glint to them, and she knew from his hold on her that he didn't have a fever. "I'm so damn sorry," he begged before he pulled her back to him, tighter than he had before.
She nuzzled his neck with her forehead. "I'm sorry, too."
His hands trailed down her back and over her butt before he lifted her and pressed a deep, sweet kiss to her lips. "I love you."
She kissed him back. "I love you, too, Tom."
Friday, May 25, 1945
History of Magic Classroom
Poke.
Tensed back.
Poke.
White-knuckled grip.
Poke.
Ink splatter.
Poke.
Chair squeak.
Poke.
Dropped quill.
Poke.
Jerked chair.
Poke.
Groan.
Poke.
Grabbed quill.
Poke.
White-knuckled grip. Again.
Poke.
Spilled ink bottle—saved at last second.
Poke.
Nothing.
Poke.
Groan.
Poke.
Nothing. Again.
Poke.
Nope.
Poke.
Hey . . .!
Change of tactic.
Hair pull.
Groan.
Poke—
"Tom? Are you alright?" Abraxas asked softly through the corner of his mouth. His brow was furrowed, and he looked very concerned.
He slouched slightly when the professor looked over at him with a raised brow, before he continued to teach. Eden had to bite her lips to stifle a giggle, and poked Tom again, this time on the side of his nose. He huffed, and she knew that he was most thoroughly regretting allowing her to join him in class.
"I'm—fine," he hissed, after he paused for a moment to add more vitriol to the final word after she poked him again, that time in his ear.
"Are—" the Peacock Bastard swallowed, "are you sure?"
He stiffly nodded and continued—attempted, if she had anything to say about it—to take notes on the Egyptian Rebellion of 1584. She had long since come to the definitive conclusion that Professor Binns had died when he had been teaching the Goblin Wars Unit—which Tom's class just finished—and now that was all he taught in her time, now that he was dead.
He was also far more observant when he was alive, and a fairly fantastic teacher—if his brain hadn't been screwed with after he died, he would have continued to be a great teacher.
Poke.
He flinched as her fingernail poked the outer corner of his eye, and inhaled deeply. Before she could move to either poke him again, or run far, far away, his magic wrapped tightly around her, and she couldn't help but wonder how he would punish her.
Ever since their fight a few days ago, things hadn't been the same.
She stood still and patient for five minutes before she got an idea, and poked him with her magic. She bit her lips until they bled when she heard something akin to that of a dying whale.
Poke.
Poke.
Poke.
Poke.
Poke.
Abandoned Classroom
The door to the classroom closed behind her, and she leaned against it as she waited for the verdict—she hoped to Morgana and the Olde gods that he wouldn't choose Abyss.
He stood ten feet away from her with his back towards her. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his side, and she feared that his hands would break if he continued to do so. He took a deep breath, nodded, and turned around.
He rapidly moved towards her, and was in front of her in seconds. The heat of his body seeped into her skin through her thin cotton clothing, and for some strange reason, she felt nervous. His hands cupped her face, and his lips fell on hers. The kiss started out sweet and slow, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, and pulled him closer.
That action seemed to be all of the encouragement he needed, because one hand moved to her hair, gripped harshly, and tilted her head back. The other hand moved to her throat and squeezed slightly, and her blood throbbed. His tongue shoved into her mouth with a fiery intensity that quickly had her seeing stars as the grip on her throat tightened, along with the pressure on her scalp.
He pulled away slightly, and bit harshly at her bottom lip before he dove back into her mouth. The bitter taste of iron flooded her taste buds, and the hand in her hair released her. It trailed down her back, the nails cutting into her skin through her shirt, and passed her butt and to her left thigh where he lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist.
She easily wrapped her other leg around his waist, and his hand was under her shirt, and before she could do anything, it had been vanished, and she was left in her sports bra.
He allowed her one short gasp of air, before he was back on her, his tongue in her mouth, and his mouth somehow devouring the air in her lungs. The hand on her back dug into her skin, almost painfully, and a soft moan left her lips and tumbled into his mouth.
The kiss somehow deepened, and soon, due to his grip tightening on her throat, and the tongue attempting to become one with her, she couldn't breathe. He continued to devour her until she was sure she was going to pass out. Her head started to spin, and her grip slackened, and he pulled away.
She gasped for precious air as he rested his forehead against hers, and his thumb started to rub soothing circles on the hollow of her throat. His hot breath fanned against her face, and despite the many times they had done this, she had never felt as close to him as she did in that moment.
He started to mouth at the skin of her cheek, and he slowly made his way to her left ear with the feather-light touches where he started to nibble lightly on the lobe.
"I love you, Tom," she murmured softly. She adjusted her grip from around his shoulders, and ran a hand through his hair.
He lifted his head and pressed another achingly soft kiss to her lips. "And I love you, my dearest, Eden." He kissed her softly again before he rested his head on her shoulder. He pressed a kiss against the side of her neck—near her shoulder—where a thin, white scar lay. "I'm so sorry," he muttered against her shoulder.
She tilted her head to the right and pressed a kiss to his hair, and willed the tears back as she rested the crown of her head against the wooden door behind her. "It's okay, Tom."
"No, it's not." No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep the tears from falling at how wrecked he sounded. She had never known Tom Riddle to ever regret anything.
The fact that he regretted something . . . and it had to do with her . . ..
She bit her tongue, and blood flooded her mouth.
"Yes, it is, Tom." He looked up and wiped her face, and her heart broke even more to see the tears in his eyes. "Tom, it's normal for couples to fight. Hell, we've fought before. What's so different about this time?"
Other than the fact that they fought physically and verbally instead of just physically or verbally, it was nearly the same as any other fight they had had in the past—even her staying away for a short time was the same.
The only main difference between the last fight, and other fights they'd had, was the fact that they both used Curses and Ancient Magicks that were worse than their usual spells, hexes, jinxes, and curses.
That was a fact that, unfortunately, couldn't be forgotten—no matter how much they both wished it could be.
He dropped his head, and kissed the scar that lay right where her shoulder and neck met.
"I wasn't able to heal you, and I went way too far."
She ran her fingers through his hair again, and tightened her legs around his waist. She shivered, and her shirt was back on her body—she would always be impressed at his ability to be able to remove and put on clothes with magic (she could only remove them without mishap, and occasionally she could put them on).
"It takes two to tango, Tom. We've both been extraordinarily stressed for the last seven months due to the Tournament. And . . . and . . . we just ended up taking our frustrations out on each other. We both said horrid things, but now . . . now it's time that we move on and grow from this."
He smiled against her shoulder before he lifted his head. She wiped his face, and he wiped her own. "Who told you that?"
She grinned. "Wings and Padfoot. I just told them that I had a fight with my sparring partner, and they told me that after I explained the bare basics to them of what happened. They then went on to recount the many fights that they had that were similar to our own."
He nodded thoughtfully. She still saw the guilt that gnawed at him in the back of his eyes. "Have they been cleared for adoption yet?"
"No," she groaned. She nuzzled his neck with her forehead, and he tightened his hold on her. "At this point, my PTSD is worse than theirs, and I'm allowed around children at school to tutor them."
He chuckled. "Love, I hate to tell you this, but you don't have PTSD."
"Exactly."
He laughed again, and pressed another kiss to her forehead. "Maybe one day, we can take a break and work on Hera, and finding a way to get Padfoot and Wings cleared for adoption."
She grinned and kissed his cheek. "You're the best, Tom."
He pressed a kiss to her lips, and put her down so he could grab his things. As they left the classroom, he spoke:
"I know."
So... the next guaranteed date is... N/A
I recovered from the burnout for a little while, was able to work on a lot of other things, and every time I opened the folder for In My Dreams, I felt like my entire world was crashing down around me. So... yeah. It will be updated, probably on my birthday-because your comments Siriusly make my week-but, I don't do well with deadlines, so, deadlines have to be removed.
Hope you liked the chapter. I promise you when I say that the only thing that was planned in this chapter was the History of Magic scene. A majority of this was written right after I got out of a pretty bad spot of Depression and Writers Block, and my Muse had abandoned me. I was at work, and she came back and said 'time to write, sucker!'.
I had none of my timelines with me, none of my plans, and ended up writing the fight between Tom and Eden, and I needed to be able to work it in, because I liked how it turned out, and Musella—my Muse—would have killed all of my hopes and dreams of ever becoming a published writer if I got rid of it. I'm just grateful I'm a chauffeur of sorts and was able to do it between stops.
Let's just say I don't leave home without a notebook with a list of scenes to write next.
