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Chapter 35
The Silence In Between
╚═══*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*═══╝
MARINA COULD HEAR Tom and Herpo speaking in Parseltongue, the whispering sounds of it filling the cavern, echoing, creeping down her spine, drowning out every thought in her mind. She closed her eyes tighter and her fingers curled into fists of Tom's shirt. She wished that they would just leave, that he would just figure out what they needed to know and they could get out of this horrible cave with its ghastly, hellish residents, and never ever come back.
Suddenly there was nothing but ringing silence. Marina went to look up, but Tom held her firm. "Not yet," he breathed.
"Did he tell you?" she whispered. "Does he know if you can..."
"I'm trying," he said hollowly, "he is not… particularly lucid."
Tom said something in Parseltongue and Marina waited with baited breath for Herpo's reply – but it did not come. After a long, drawn out moment, she heard something that was as stomach-turning as it was soul-crushing.
Herpo was laughing. It rasped from him, low, haunting cackles separated by long pauses that made Marina's skin crawl, only exacerbated by the cracking and popping of bones being crushed beneath a monstrous body sliding somewhere nearby.
"Don't open your eyes," Tom hissed, sharply turning her around by the shoulders and pushing her back the way they came. Marina stumbled on the uneven floor and the bones that covered every inch of it, but Tom's hands held her tightly and she didn't even worry about falling.
A strange wrenching sound like metal being torn came from behind them, and Herpo's laughs grew louder behind them as Tom pushed her quickly across the cavern.
"What's going – " she whispered, voice trembling.
Suddenly there was a loud clanging sound of something hitting the wall in front of her and she jumped. Tom sped up their pace as an almighty hiss rung out from the huge snake behind them, followed by a sickening, wet crunch. Herpo's laughter was briefly punctured by a breathy gasp, and Marina understood.
"Is he…?" she breathed, feeling sick.
"Yes," Tom muttered forcefully. "Don't look."
Herpo's rasping, dying laughs echoed after them as Tom guided her blind up the cavern. He didn't even pause when they reached the mouth of the cave, commanding that she keep her eyes shut and pulling her all the way back to the little beach.
The second they were at the boat he let her go and Marina opened her eyes in surprise.
"Get in," Tom said blankly, holding the edge of the boat steady.
She glanced at him, tempted to ask him what had happened, if he was alright – but there was a decidedly agitated edge to the tension in his jaw so she quickly did as he asked. The second he had sat down after her, the scowling fisherman pushed them off the beach with an oar and they were speeding off across the water.
A surreal moment of peaceful silence fell, the calm sounds of the waves and the distant calls of seabirds a stark contrast to the noises of the basilisk's teeth sinking into Herpo's body in the unknown darkness. Their ferryman said nothing, ignoring them completely as he drew them back towards the distant island. Marina wondered if he had noticed that the black parcel they'd brought was now missing.
She chanced a glance at Tom. He was sitting dead straight, one hand on the edge of the boat so tight that his knuckles were white, the other on his leg looking misleadingly relaxed. His face was turned away from her, looking out over the waves silently.
"Tom," she said quietly.
Against his leg, Tom's fingers drew into a fist and Marina saw something work in his jaw. He didn't look around at her.
Cold, resigned dread leaking into her chest. His response could only mean…
She looked out at the ocean herself, watching the sun dance across the blue waves. Marina thought that maybe she would cry if she had more energy.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
They were very quiet as they arranged their return to England. As Marina shoved her toothbrush into her bag, she took a long breath and leaned on the sink, staring at it unseeingly. Tom hadn't said what had transpired between him and Herpo, but it hardly mattered – his absolute blank expression and utter silence since getting out of the cave spoke volumes.
Marina hung her head, closing her eyes and breathed deeply again. It had been their best chance, finding the person responsible for Horcrux magic and learning what they could, and they had nothing. Herpo had literally laughed in their faces.
"Marina."
She didn't look around, didn't even open her eyes. "Yeah."
"The Portkey leaves soon," Tom said from the door.
"Okay."
There was a brief silence, and then Marina heard him turn and leave. She grit her teeth, wondering when she would finally cry.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Marina stared impassively at the Burrow before her once they appeared in the little front yard, ignoring the sick feeling from Apparating as she followed Tom into the house. She looked around the familiar, cluttered lounge blankly. It was very late. No one was up, and the fireplace smouldered its last embers in front of the couches, casting a low glow across the homely room. She could see signs of the Weasleys' evening around the place, empty mugs still on the coffee table, the radio for Potterwatch in position dead centre, a few blankets and jumpers still hanging over the backs of chairs.
Marina took a few steps forward, dropped her bag onto the floor, and fell listlessly into one of the couches. After a second, Tom approached and sat next to her. There was a long pause, the gentle crackling of the fireplace the only sound Marina could hear other than their breathing.
"What happened?" she asked quietly.
Tom didn't move, and he hesitated for some time before answering. "I explained my situation," he said, tone deceptively even, "he was surprisingly uninterested in the fact that I was originally a Horcrux. He effectively asked if I had to either draw the soul from my original creator, or die and exist forever in whatever state that would entail. I said yes, and asked him if he knew how to do so."
He stopped, and Marina looked around at him. Tom's gaze was somewhere in front of them, his posture strangely formal, his hands gently clasped in his lap. His face was relaxed, but even in profile she could see that his eyes were burning with whatever emotion was storming behind his composed expression.
"That was when he started laughing," Tom said mechanically, looking down at his hands.
Marina looked back at the coffee table as the fireplace crackled and popped with juxtaposed cheer. A lot was happening in her chest. There was disappointment, anger, sadness, the impulse to burst into tears, the equally strong impulse to break something – but stronger than anything was an exhaustion she had not felt since she'd been lying in St Mungo's after getting back from Albania, wondering how the hell they were going to carry on, how they were supposed to go through it all over again. It seemed so long ago, so precious that she'd thought that things were so bad back then when she thought about where they were now.
The implications of their failure hung unspoken and suffocatingly heavy over them, and Marina felt it so strongly that it was as if she was being crushed down into the couch by the weight of it. Tom had remained stock still and completely composed beside her, but she was not deceived.
She thought distantly about Mrs Weasley hugging him a few weeks ago. Feeling like it would be too much to do the same, she let her head fall onto Tom's shoulder with a soft thud, still staring at the coffee table. Surely it would be okay, this small gesture of camaraderie, such a very low-risk expression of comfort. In her peripheral vision she saw him look down at her, and distantly she wondered if perhaps he would ask her to move after all – but after a moment he just turned his face towards the fire and said nothing.
It was still dark when Marina awoke. Her eyes opened heavily, taking in the still, quiet lounge, the fireplace having long died out. She felt oddly warm, and it took her a moment to realise that she was still sat on the couch leaning on Tom's shoulder, that his head was resting on hers too. They'd both fallen asleep there, propped against each other.
Marina blinked slowly. If she moved, she would wake Tom. They would both sit up, pretend nothing weird had happened, stand, go off to their rooms by themselves with very casual goodnights, and probably never acknowledge it ever again.
But…
But if she closed her eyes again, if she went back to sleep and pretended that she hadn't woken up, if she just leaned into the warmth next to her…
A frown tore down her face and she bolted upright, standing in one swift motion. Tom awoke at once as her head suddenly disappeared from under his, looking up at her as she stretched her arms up as casually as she could.
"I'm exhausted," she said over a fake yawn, not looking around at him. "I'll see you in the morning."
Without waiting for his reply, Marina seized her bag from the ground and climbed the stairs two at a time. She shut the door to Ginny's room and breathed a long sigh as she let her forehead fall against the wood with a thunk.
She didn't want to think it, didn't want to acknowledge it, knowing it was there but refusing to look at it in the eye – but it had to stop. Marina grit her teeth. It had to stop. The stupid fluttering in her stomach when she saw him, the staring at him, the way she had just reacted downstairs – all of it needed to stop before she absolutely ruined everything so monumentally that it was almost comical.
They were in the middle of a war, and Tom had just found out that he was going to have to sacrifice himself and linger in fucking purgatory for the rest of eternity so that they could take down his evil former self who had grown up to start a genocide against people like her. And that wasn't even getting into the absolute insanity that was her history with Tom in the first place.
It was just about the worst time, the worst place, and the worst person she could possibly get a crush on.
"Idiot," Marina breathed through clenched teeth, smacking her forehead against the door. "Idiot. You fucking idiot."
She dropped her bag onto the floor and kicked it dully. "You are so fucking stupid," she said to the bag heatlessly. "Get your head out of the clouds and fucking stop it. You could have died today, and you found out that the worst possible fate imaginable is going to happen to someone you care about very much."
Marina's bag did not reply, and she stared at it glumly. Unprecedented, the memory of Tom's arms around her in the cave filled her head and she angrily kicked the bag again.
"Not the most important thing that happened in that fucking cave," she muttered furiously, turning to the bed and flinging herself onto it and beating her pillow into something comfortable. "You met a three thousand year old man and a snake that could kill you by looking at it, focus on that, why don't you."
Marina buried her face in her pillow and held her breath for a very long time, waiting until her chest went unbearably tight and her pulse was thundering before relenting and letting it go, long and agitated.
"Idiot," she muttered into the depths of the pillow. "He probably needs legitimate emotional support right now and you're too busy fucking running away to deal with a stupid little personal crisis. Get your shit together, you're being a terrible friend."
Marina forced herself to roll over and kicked off her shoes over the edge of the bed, not bothering to get changed before burrowing under the covers and falling still with a sharp sigh. She just needed to go the hell to sleep and wake up the next morning and never ever think about it ever again –
He smells really nice.
"Fuck!" Marina exclaimed angrily, probably too loudly. She pressed her palms into her eyes and shook her head. "Shut up, oh my god…"
She let out a curt breath and rolled over, forcing herself to go to sleep, mostly just furious that she was right – he did smell really nice, and no matter how much she grit her teeth, there was really nothing she could do about knowing that.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Charlie burst into her room the next morning, beaming. "You're back!" he said loudly as he fell onto her bed, seizing her by the shoulders and pulling her upright.
"Nnnghf," mumbled Marina, squinting at him through a mess of hair.
He snickered and hugged her tightly, squeezing so hard that she choked out a cough.
"Charlie," she gasped, "my ribs are breaking –"
"I can't believe you didn't come wake me up when you got in!" Charlie said exuberantly, letting her go.
"It was really late," she muttered, not wanting to think about the previous night in the slightest. She pushed her hair out of her face and rolled her shoulders out, grimacing.
"I hear things didn't go so well," Charlie said, cocking his head with a decidedly more tactful look on his face.
"Did you?" she frowned as she stretched.
"Tom's already downstairs," he said by way of explanation.
"Oh," Marina said, not looking him in the eye. "Yeah. No, it didn't."
"Are you okay?" he asked carefully.
"Am I okay?" she repeated incredulously. "Not really the most important question, is it?"
"Marina," he said patiently, "you're affected by this, too."
"Not as much as him," she said swiftly, kicking back the covers. "Now get out, I need to get changed."
Charlie looked on the verge of pushing it, but instead he stood and went to the door. "Hungry?"
"Ravenous," Marina grinned, getting up and stretching forward again, wincing at how tight her leg muscles had become.
"I'll get you breakfast," he said with a smirk as he left.
"I love you!" she called after him, turning to the dresser. She was very relieved to be able to wear something other than the same three sets of clothes she'd taken with them to Greece.
After wrestling her hair into a ponytail that she carelessly braided to avoid having to deal with it, Marina sped down the stairs into the kitchen. Mrs Weasley gave a loud cry when she saw her and immediately pulled her into a wonderful hug which she returned with gusto.
"So good to have you back, dear," Mrs Weasley said warmly, leaning back and squeezing her shoulders. "And I'm so sorry to hear about –"
"Yeah," Marina said quickly, glancing at Tom who was sitting at the kitchen table with a wide-brimmed cup in one hand, sipping it rather elegantly. He did not look up. "Yeah, I know," Marina finished, frowning.
Mrs Weasley placed a comforting hand on her cheek and gave her a sad smile. "Let's get some breakfast into you," she said, turning away. "Charlie, do you have Marina's –"
Charlie pushed a plate of homemade hash browns and two sausages into Marina's hands, and she gave him a look of deep reverence. "I literally adore you," she said passionately, sinking into the seat opposite Tom and immediately beginning to eat. "Hey – Tom –"
His eyes flashed up to hers at once, and Marina blithely ignored the way her heart skipped a beat. "Remember in Corinth when we tried to get breakfast at that one stall," she grinned, playing it off, "and they gave us bloody fish food because we had accidentally gone to a place for ichthyocentaurs."
"I do," he said smoothly, his gaze on her face so measured that she felt like shivering, "though you still ate some of it, if I recall."
Charlie guffawed, and choked on his food at once. "You ate some?"
"They were still watching and I didn't want to be rude!" Marina said loudly, before glaring at Tom. "Thanks, he's never going to let that go…"
"You ate fish food," Charlie whispered to his plate, looking like Christmas had come two weeks early. "That's brilliant…"
"Yes I know, I'm deeply stupid," Marina grumbled, regretting bringing it up. "Can we move on?"
"I will be leaving for a short time," Tom said casually.
Marina dropped her fork and it clattered onto her plate loudly. Silence fell upon the kitchen at once.
"What?" she said quietly, staring at him.
"I have matters to attend to," he continued, looking utterly unperturbed by her reaction. "My frequent travels have somewhat drawn the attention of the Death Eaters, and I think it best if I remain at Malfoy Manor for a time until things return to normal."
"How long?" Marina said at once.
"A week or so," he said calmly, sipping his tea.
"Oh," Marina said, unnaturally loud. She picked up her fork and stared at her food as she pushed it around, appetite suddenly non-existant.
"It's only a week, Marina," Mrs Weasley said gently, hand on her shoulder. "He'll be back soon, don't you worry."
Marina nodded rather numbly. She wasn't listening as they went on discussing it, finishing her food slowly and washing up with slightly stilted movements. If Tom was going away, last night had really been her chance to talk to him properly about what had happened and she'd wasted it agonising over her stupid misplaced crush. Now he was going to be surrounded by Death Eaters and for a week straight with no one to talk to right after finding out that he was going to have to –
"Marina," Tom said quietly.
She jumped and wheeled around from where she'd been washing her plate to find the kitchen empty except for him. She hadn't even noticed the conversation dim, or Charlie and Mrs Weasley leaving. Tom was still sitting at the table, looking up at her with a measured expression, and she suddenly realised that he was already dressed in Death Eater robes. Her stomach flipped.
"When are you going?" she asked, the words tumbling out her mouth awkwardly.
"I should leave as soon as possible," he replied, impossibly calm.
"Oh," Marina said stupidly.
There was a strangely tense pause.
"How will we know if you're okay?" said Marina loudly, frowning at the floor and wondering if he knew that by 'we' she meant 'I.' "If something happens to you, it's not exactly like we'll be able to find out, right?"
"It is unlikely that something with happen," Tom said smoothly, placing his cup down on the table with a little knocking sound of porcelain against wood. "But communication will not be possible until I return."
"So we won't know if something happens to you?" she said rather brusquely.
He hesitated. "No," he said eventually, "you won't." He glanced up at her. "Though nor will I know if something has happened to you."
Another heavy silence followed his words, and Marina's thoughts scrambled as she stared at him, wishing viciously that English distinguished between plural and single 'you.'
"I'm sorry," she blurted out.
Surprise flitted across his face. "Why?" he said at once, frowning.
"About last night. I'm sorry," she said quickly.
Tom stared at her, expression inscrutable.
"I should have – I don't know, I should have stayed and talked to you," Marina gestured with her arms, feeling useless. "Now you're going to be stuck with a bunch of Death Eaters for a week and –"
"You need not worry about me, Marina," he interrupted quietly, looking down at his cup on the table as he laced his long fingers around it, and she did not, she did not let her eyes linger on his very beautiful hands –
"I have known that this is the most likely course of action for me for some time," he continued evenly. "It was foolish of me to hope that…" he trailed off, staring at his cup with distant eyes.
An ache passed across Marina like he had stabbed her with a basilisk fang of his own. She had been the one to make them go looking for the Horcrux, to search for Herpo, she had put the whole thing into motion… and he'd gotten his hopes up, only to have them disappointed, and it was her fault, all her fault and she wasn't even being a proper friend to him now because she was letting her stupid feelings get in the way of acting normal –
"I'm sorry," she said again, barely above a whisper. It was suddenly very hard to meet his eyes.
Tom hesitated, something setting in his jaw. He abruptly stood. "Don't apologise," he said quietly. "I have long known that you have always believed too much in me."
Marina's skin felt hot, flummoxed by his words. "I completely disagree," she breathed. "I've always believed in you exactly how much you merit."
He gave her a look that so strongly reminded her of the sad, patient expression that she'd seen on his face in her nightmare that her breath hitched in her chest.
"Then I should amend," he said softly, "that you have always believed in too much for me."
There was a ringing silence as they looked at each other. Marina wondered very recklessly if she would step around the table that separated them and hug him, if he would let her, if it would make him angry, or more sad, or just uncomfortable. If what she really wanted was for him to give her a hug, too.
"I should be going," Tom said quietly, watching her.
Ask him to stay.
Marina swallowed thickly and nodded.
Don't nod, ask him to say a moment. Go fucking hug him, he needs it and so do you.
"Alright," she said, voice coming out strange.
No, it's not alright, ask him to stay, he's right there, just –
"I'll see you in a week," Tom said, drawing his wand even as his eyes stayed on hers.
Oh my god just open your stupid mouth and ask him to –
"Be careful," said Marina, unable to look away from his face. "Please."
Tom nodded, staring right back.
Come ON you idiot! This is your last chance! You just need to ASK him –
With a light snapping sound like a bone cracking under foot, Tom was gone.
That, she learned, was the moment when the tears finally came.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
"Want to help me de-gnome the garden?" Charlie asked, popping his head through her door.
Marina hastily slid the scribbled calendar she'd drawn on a bit of old parchment under the book in front of her and leapt up from Ginny's desk. It had two of seven days crossed off and Charlie's eyes flickered across it before it disappeared beneath the text.
"Yes," she said quickly. "Let's go."
Charlie quirked a brow and gave her a very knowing smile, and she sped past him to avoid further scrutiny. It was useless.
"What were you doing?" he asked slyly, following her closely down the stairs.
"Practicing origami," she deadpanned.
"Oh of course, origami," Charlie nodded solemnly. She did not miss the side-eye he was giving her.
"Shove off, Charlie," she muttered, "so I'm worried about him, what of it?"
He turned rather serious. "Marina, if I had to pick one person who could walk into a pit of Death Eaters for a week and emerge completely unscathed, it would be Tom."
Marina considered this. "True," she conceded as they left the kitchen and headed around to the garden.
Gnomes were flying through the air before he asked his next question. "Hey Marina," he said very casually.
She hefted the gnome she'd been spinning around and held a hand above her eyes against the midday sun to watch it go. It landed a good few metres behind Charlie's last one. "Damn. Yeah?"
"Are you alright?"
Marina turned to him at once. He was leaning against the wall of the house with his arms folded, squinting at her. "Why?" she asked at once, alarmed.
"Odd reaction, that," Charlie nodded at her, "to a simple question."
"I don't know what you mean," she muttered, looking around for another gnome.
"You're a terrible liar."
"I'm an excellent liar, thank you very much," Marina snapped, "what you're detecting is my body language telling you that I don't want to have this conversation."
"You have to talk to someone, Marina. You can't go through all of this alone –"
"I can't talk about it," she interrupted brutally, seizing a gnome as it dashed from behind a tree to try to find a new hiding place.
"Why not?"
She didn't reply, she only began to spin the writhing gnome before it could sink its vicious little teeth into her hand.
"In the whole time I've known you, the most personally revealing thing I've heard you say is that you liked History class at school," Charlie said, inspecting his nails. "Ironic, isn't it? That you used to lecture Tom about trusting others?"
Marina aggressively launched the gnome into the air and spun around again, glaring at him. "My problem isn't that I don't trust you, Charlie," she said hotly. "You know I trust you."
"Then what is it?" he said at once.
"What if it happens again?" Marina was suddenly shouting. "What if I turn around one day and everything's just fucking gone? Everyone I know is different, or dead, or just gone! Everything I've ever built torn away from under me all over again! The whole world is just different! Magic exists! You live in a fucking children's fantasy book now! You don't remember anyone from your life anymore! A war began! The people you knew are dead! You missed out on your friends' lives and you don't know them anymore!"
Charlie stared at her.
"It's happened twice now, you know," Marina continued loudly with a strange bravado. "I'm getting to be quite the expert on completely rebuilding my life after waking up in a totally different time."
"Marina," he said quietly. "You can't time travel again, you know that. It'll kill you. This is it, you're here now."
She just shook her head without really understanding why. "I've been here for months now," she said savagely, looking out at the countryside to avoid him seeing the tears prickling in her eyes, "and I was in 1991 for nearly a year. But I don't belong in either of them, do I? I shouldn't even be here."
"You belong wherever there are people who care about you," said Charlie firmly, "which means you definitely do belong here."
The tears welled up even more, and she furiously wiped at her eyes. "The other day I realised that I was born last year," she said wildly, watching a pair of birds dance after each other in the tree before them. "It was 1996, after all. How weird is that? There could be a little baby version of me out there somewhere right now. Well – maybe." She scoffed without feeling. "If this is even the same fucking world as the one I was born in."
"You know," Charlie said pointedly after a pause, pushing off the wall and coming up next to her. "I happen to know someone you might be able to talk to about suddenly waking up in a completely different time to find everything and everyone you know gone and not feeling like you belong anymore."
"Who?" she frowned, looking at him.
Charlie rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulder. "Tom, you absolute troll-brain."
"Oh," Marina said blankly. "Yeah. True." Somehow, the strange similarity of their circumstance had never occured to her before.
Charlie gave her a look of deep fondness and absolute disparagement. "You can be so very stupid sometimes."
"Yes," she nodded feverishly, looking back at the birds. "Yes, I can be."
They watched the gnomes they'd already thrown over the wall stumble across the field for a moment.
"Hey Charlie," she said, a small smile building on her lips.
"Hmm?"
"I liked English class, too."
Charlie scoffed and pushed her away, going to hunt for another gnome.
"My favourite colour is a three-way tie between pink, yellow, and gold."
"Uh huh."
"I'm a size seven shoe –"
"Shut it, fish food."
"What? You wanted me to open up so here I am opening –"
"You're more frustrating than a broody Antipodean Opaleye, you know that?"
"You're a huge part of why I managed to get through the first few weeks here, and I really appreciate how much you're there for me even though I'm an idiot about it most of the time," Marina said quickly, staring at the tree resolutely.
Charlie hesitated. She didn't dare look around.
"Was that so painful?" he asked dryly.
Marina turned to glare at him. "I'll throw the next gnome at you if you're not careful, Hiccup."
"Hiccup?" Charlie frowned.
Marina reminded herself that How to Train Your Dragon had not come out yet, and her jokes wouldn't be funny for another decade or so. "That would be my cute nickname for you if we were friends," she smirked as she seized a gnome.
"Why?" he looked mystified, ignoring her jab.
"Hey, if you wait like fifteen years, that joke will make a lot of sense," she shrugged.
Charlie looked amused. "Alright – though my cute nickname for you makes sense right here, right now."
"What's that?"
"Stinky," he said seriously. "Honestly, you smelled so bad, Marina, I can't even describe –"
Marina kept her promise and threw her gnome right at his head.
.•° ✿ °•.
A/N: What's this? Two uploads in two days? Who am I...
Also, so many ppl are mad that I didn't write the mistaking Tom and Marina as a couple scene so it's going on the growing list of one-shots I'll write once the story is finished, unless I figure out a way to get it into the main plot after all. I promise you it will be done.
And btw, catch that Florence + the Machine reference in the title... :D
Thank you all very much for your support, stay safe :)
°•. ✿ .•°
