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Chapter 37
An Understandable Misconception
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THE RAIN STARTED not an hour after Tom disappeared, and did not let up for the whole afternoon. It pelted against the house and streamed down the windows as a howling wind stirred thick grey clouds in the sky outside, rather unluckily trapping everyone inside the chaos that was reigning over the Burrow.

Fred and George had made it their personal mission to cheer up Ginny, and Mrs Weasley's voice shook the house as she furiously berated them for releasing a large collection of thunderous firecrackers in the stairway, only to immediately throw one of their 'Weather in a Bottle' snow storms into Ginny's room when she had opened the door to investigate the commotion. In their defence, it did seem to have cheered Ginny up, and she actually came down to join them for lunch – though this may have been because her room was covered in six inches of snow and she was no longer able to hide there. Nevertheless, Ginny perked up considerably when Fred transfigured his peas into a small army of marching crabs that scuttled across the table and made Fleur shriek loudly.

Marina just tried to stay out of Mrs Weasley's way as she tore through the house on a veritable warpath preparing the Burrow for even more guests, supervising Fred and George's progress melting out Ginny's room, and assigning chores to anyone caught in her line of sights. She'd delegated Marina the task of setting up Percy's room, handing her the linen with tight lips and a tension to her eyes. The considerable layer of dust across the room made Marina think that no one had gone in there for some time.

Her relief when Tom reappeared in the lounge that afternoon was insurmountable.

"Oh thank fuck," Marina said heavily, immediately shoving the basket of laundry she was holding into his arms and seizing the second from the ground beside her. "Quick, do something with this before Mrs Weasley sees you and makes you help Charlie clean the scullery – I've never seen him so miserable in my life –"

She sat heavily on the couch with the laundry next to her and started folding it with absolute precision. A loud argument could be heard from the kitchen around the corner as Mrs Weasley's tyranny exploded onto George, who had apparently committed the cardinal sin of setting down his cup and leaving a water ring on the kitchen table that she'd just scrubbed down.

"What is going on?" Tom asked slowly, raising an eyebrow at Marina.

Fred ducked his head down the stairs to check on the fate of his brother with a comically grim expression on his face.

"There's officially nine people in this house again," Fred said blithely, "mum's going to murder someone by Christmas, you can count on that."

"You reckon it'll take that long?" Ginny snorted, appearing behind him. "An hour ago she yelled at Charlie for five minutes straight because he breathed on the china cabinet and it fogged up the glass."

Tom placed the laundry that Marina had forced into his arms down on the coffee table, and Ginny seemed to suddenly notice him. Her expression became rather affronted and she stood straight up.

"Oh," she said blandly, "hi, Tom. I didn't know you were already here."

"I just arrived," Tom said smoothly, deftly stowing away his wand.

"Right," Ginny said, before looking away, "well, tread carefully why don't you." She waved an arm towards the kitchen and Mrs Weasley's wrath, and then turned on her heel and disappearing past Fred who was now sporting an extremely broad smirk as he followed her upstairs.

"Does she know you've been at the Manor?" Marina muttered to Tom quietly.

"No," he said, frowning. "No, most people think that I have been in hiding with my uncle since the wedding –"

"Did you learn anything?" Marina pressed at once, staring up at him. "About Luna?"

Tom gave her an even look. "I'm sorry, Marina," he said quietly.

"But you got me out," she said hollowly, shaking her head. "Can't you –"

"I will do my best to make sure that she is as safe as she can be, given the circumstances," Tom said tiredly, sitting on the couch and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.

Marina suddenly felt very bad for pressuring him – he looked exhausted. "Alright," she said slowly, "thanks."

He nodded, not looking up. Fatigue was set into every line of his body, and Marina's hand suddenly ached like if she didn't reach out to touch him, it would revolt against her conscious mind and do it of its own accord. She was saved from having to agonise over the decision by Bill and Fleur coming down the stairs, and Mrs Weasley rounded the corner to the lounge with a very stressed look on her face.

"Bill, can you help Charlie charm the ceiling in the bathroom again?" Mrs Weasley said busily, flicking her wand at the fireplace which immediately burst into flames. "It's leaking all over the place – and Fleur, come help me with lunch if you could – oh, Tom," she gave him weary smile as she noticed him, approaching him at once and placing her palm fondly against Tom's cheek. "Good to have you back so soon, dear."

Marina had to quickly look back down at the laundry to hide her smile, unable to hold it back.

"Marina – Percy's room –?"

"All set up," she nodded, schooling her features before looking up at Mrs Weasley, "and I put the china for Aunt Muriel's tea on the desk in Ginny's room."

"Right piece of work, old Muriel," said Charlie, tearing a bite from a bread roll as he rounded the corner. "Has to have everything just right –"

"You watch yourself, young man," Mrs Weasley said sternly, pointing at him, "I have enough to worry about with Fred and George threatening to test out their new colour-changing shampoo on her without your cheek –"

"I'll behave myself," Charlie grinned, holding up a hand in surrender as he collapsed onto the couch next to Marina and threw an arm around her shoulders. "I'll be the very picture of good manners, mum, I swear."

Marina snorted. "Good of you to branch out and try new things."

"You're such a bully," Charlie accused theatrically.

"Oh? And what's your nickname for me again?"

"Oh you mean stinky?" he asked casually, taking another bite of the roll.

Marina punched his arm and he poked her hard in the ribs back, making her shriek.

"Merlin, aren't you two romantic?" Bill said, quirking a brow.

Marina and Charlie both froze, suddenly very aware that they were acting much more like siblings than partners.

"I love her really," Charlie said at once, putting his arm around her shoulders again.

Marina scoffed a laugh at his rather transparent recovery, but it appeared to have worked because Bill gave them a very wry smile and shook his head fondly.

"The fire's getting low," said Mrs Weasley, frowning at it. "Bill – could you go fetch some more wood?"

"I'll get it," Tom said suddenly, standing up and heading for the door at once. He had disappeared out into the rain before anyone could protest.

"Well," said Fleur, waving her hand gracefully. "Eet ees good zat you 'ave so many willing 'elpers, Molly."

"Tom's a good lad," Bill nodded, turning to Charlie. "Now would you kindly stop lazing around and help me with this bathroom ceiling?"

"I just sat down," Charlie said, looking scandalised.

"Got a case of the ole single-use legs, do you?" Marina asked humorously, nudging his ribs.

With a deeply forlorn look and a very hard done by sigh, Charlie heaved himself off the couch to go re-charm the bathroom ceiling, and Tom was still not back by the time they were done.

"Is he still outside?" Charlie frowned, glancing at the empty log-holder by the fireplace.

Mrs Weasley leaned around the corner with a huge bowl filled with Christmas cake mix floating above her wand that was slowly rotating as she added streams of dried fruit.

"Marina – can you go check on him?" she called, frowning in concern. "He's certainly taking his time…"

Marina nodded and walked over to the kitchen door, wrenching it open only to immediately freeze in place. Tom was stood right on the other side, clearly having just been about to open it himself, a stack of freshly cut logs in his arms. He was absolutely soaked from the rain, his hair dripping wet, and the wave that usually fell across his face half plastered to his forehead. Drops of water ran off his dark curls and down his face as he looked at her and she watched them as if hypnotised, unable to look away. Marina's face felt burning hot.

I am so fucked.

After a second, Tom slowly arched a brow. "Are you going to let me in?" he asked, slightly pointedly.

Marina jolted and stepped to the side at once, holding the door for him. Tom gave her a rather amused look as he dipped his head under the doorframe and stepped inside, setting the wood down next to the fireplace and withdrawing his wand. As he waved it over the logs, steam obediently began to erupt from them – but Marina's attention had been caught by something extremely worrying behind him.

Charlie was looking between her and Tom with something between dawning realisation and utter glee on his face. Marina gave him as threatening a look as she could manage without drawing Tom's attention and shook her head slowly. Charlie looked wholly unperturbed and slowly sat down in an armchair with a shit-eating grin on his face that Marina knew in her very bones meant trouble.

She wheeled around and beelined for Fleur and Mrs Weasley, seizing a chopping board and setting it hard down on the table before aggressively attacking the potatoes for lunch. Marina resolutely ignored Charlie's annoying grin for the rest of the day, and rather foolishly wondered if she'd gotten off relatively scot-free before everything came crashing down right after Mr Weasley's brothers arrived the following afternoon.

Julian and Jacob Weasley were both tall, red-haired, and so strikingly similar to each other that Marina had thought them twins themselves at first. They had dispositions much like Mr Weasley's – kind, loud, and eager to find even the smallest good to smile about, and they chatted amicably with Bill and Fleur as they were led upstairs to find beds.

"Charlie!" Mrs Weasley called distractedly as her wand danced furiously, simultaneously folding white marzipan over itself again and again, and cutting out little pastry stars for the mince pies. "Can you help Tom set up in the lounge?"

Marina's head whipped around from where she'd been kneading pastry for the sausage rolls. She was herself sleeping in the lounge, still giving Ginny some space and solitude after what had happened with Luna and before Aunt Muriel descended upon her sanctuary. "I thought Tom was in Percy's room," she said quickly.

"He was but Julian and Jacob are taking the beds in there now – you don't mind being with Tom, do you?"

Yes.

"No," Marina said bluntly, staring back at the dough. "Course not."

Her head buzzed. Of course Mrs Weasley hadn't thought twice about putting her with Tom, they'd been travelling together for weeks and known each other – at least on Tom's part – for years. But the thought of sleeping in the same room as him was making her feel extremely nervous, and she pursed her lips. She could not help but try…

"You know, the others might find it strange if Charlie's not the one staying with me in the lounge," Marina said casually, resuming folding the dough with what she hoped was nonchalance. "Maybe he should swap with Tom."

"I'd rather keep Charlie with Fred and George, if you don't mind dear," Mrs Weasley frowned, directing a line of pastry stars over to a floured tray, "I overheard them this morning whispering that they were going to try to get Tom with their Magical Moustache Miracle Cream." Mrs Weasley gave her a tight look of disparagement, heaving a sigh as she shook her head. "That boy's going through enough right now, I don't need the twins swapping out his shoes with Sticky Trainers or turning his eyebrows green in his sleep again…"

Marina chewed her lip furiously. "Right," she said in a slightly strangled tone, as she punched the dough over itself.

That night, Marina flung herself onto the couch and resolved to fall asleep as quickly as possible. She glanced over at Tom – who was at that moment reading from the magical encyclopaedia whilst sitting on the other couch, one of his legs crossed very casually over the other.

"What are you reading about?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

He didn't look up. "Ignatia Wildsmith."

"Who's that?" Marina frowned.

"She invented Floo powder," Tom said evenly. "Her life was rather interesting actually… she was splinched seventeen times by pure chance, which appears to have been her impetus for inventing an alternative to Apparation."

"Geez, that's a yikes and a half," Marina grimaced.

"Indeed," he said humorously, glancing at her.

There was a very ringing silence.

"Well," Marina said loudly, wrenching her gaze off him and pulling the thick homemade quilt up to her chin. "Goodnight." She resolutely closed her eyes and flung an arm across her face as nonchalantly as she could manage.

"Goodnight," Tom said smoothly.

Marina pretended to be asleep for a long time before she actually fell unconscious, the periodic sound of Tom gently turning pages eventually lulling her into slumber.

It was always going to be like this…

You can't change it…

You know it has to be done…

I don't want to be alone –

Marina silently awoke with a jolt, her face wet with tears. She stared at the dark, low ceiling, forcing herself to take hushed, shaking breaths to calm her thudding heart. She could almost still feel the cold ink spreading across her fingers.

She wiped her face on her shirt and glanced over at the other couch. Tom's form stretched out there was only just visible in the dark, lying there without a blanket and the book open on his chest like he'd fallen asleep reading it. Marina could hear his slow, even breathing, could faintly see the book gently rising and falling, his fingers brushing the floor next to him where his arm had slipped off the couch.

An ache passed through her and she looked away. It was a cold night – should she go find him a blanket? Was that weird? Was it only maybe weird because she was being weird, rather than it being inherently weird to an outside perspective?

Before she had to make a decision, Tom took a very sharp breath and sat straight up, the book falling into his lap. Marina froze, staring at him. It was too dark to see his expression but he was breathing hard through his nose, though he was very obviously trying to be quiet. His hands came up and pressed to his forehead, and he leaned forward over his bent knees. Marina's mind raced – should she ask him if he was okay? Would he be annoyed that she'd witnessed this moment?

Tom fell back onto the couch and let his hands fall to his sides with a long, very weary exhale. Marina made up her mind.

"Tom?"

His head snapped around. Marina swallowed hard, biting her lip with uncertainly and wishing she could see his expression.

"Are you alright?" she continued cautiously.

There was a brief pause, and then –

"From what I understand, you're no stranger to nightmares," said Tom, his voice slightly husky from sleep.

"No," she said with a small, grim sigh. "I'm not."

A long silence fell but Marina didn't prompt him – she had the distinct impression that he would elaborate in his own time.

"I have been having nightmares about my death for some time," Tom said quietly, "for as nearly as long as I can remember. But as of late, things have been somewhat different." His voice was so soft that Marina felt like shivering. "I have learned that there are things more terrible than my own death."

He let out another long exhale, sounding very exhausted. Through the dark she saw his hand came up to his forehead again.

"That night at the Manor," he said softly, "when I saw you again…"

Marina's heart clenched painfully and her stomach swooped like she'd missed a stair.

"I knew that the line I had to walk lay between my death and yours," Tom said, barely above whisper, "that a single misstep or the smallest detail misspoken would kill one or both of us. I feared that you would not realise the extent of the situation we were in, that you would say something, or reveal something to him, and that he would –"

Tom broke off, his hand falling back onto the couch with a light thud. "I believe my mind must have come up with every possibility for how that night could have gone," he murmured.

"I'm sorry," Marina said quietly.

Tom hesitated a second and then gave a soft breath of a laugh. "Are you apologising for having been abducted? Or for my having nightmares?"

"Both," she muttered.

"I fail to see how either are your fault," said Tom with a wry lilt to his words.

"I'm sorry that they happened at all," she frowned. "I'm sorry that all of this ever happened."

Tom was quiet, and the silence went on for so long that Marina wondered if perhaps he had gone back to sleep, when –

"Why do you cry in your sleep?"

A hot pulse of alarm passed through her as she looked over at him, even though he was still indistinguishable in the dark. "How do you know about that?" she asked quickly.

"I noticed while we were in Greece."

"We didn't share a room," Marina said at once.

"I could tell by your eyes in the morning," Tom replied evenly. "And sometimes I could hear you."

Embarrassment coursed through her. "Oh," she said flatly.

Much like herself only moments before, Tom didn't push her; he only waited while she desperately tried to gather her spinning thoughts.

"It started around the same time," she mumbled, waving her hand above her. "After Malfoy Manor. I dream that I'm in a room somewhere and – and you're there."

Tom's silence gave her time to grit her teeth, trying to push down the weird shakiness that had erupted in her chest.

"You talk to me," she managed to say, "tell me I can't do anything to – to change things. And then you –" Her throat closed up and Marina choked a bit. She frowned hard, forcing a breath. "You make me kill you," she finished quietly.

There was a long pause after her words. Marina fixed her eyes on the ceiling above.

"I intend to keep my promise to try to find another way," Tom said quietly, "but you must know that if I can't, you would never have to be the one to –"

"I know," she interrupted, screwing her eyes shut tightly and pushing her fingers back into her hair. "I know, it's just…" she trailed off, unable to express the tight ball of feelings in her chest.

"I'm sorry, Marina."

Marina cracked her eyes open, knowing he wouldn't be able to see her little smile in the darkness. "Are you apologising for how Horcrux magic works? Or for my having nightmares? Because I don't see how either are your fault," she said with a weak attempt at teasing him.

He laughed again, barely more than a breath. "All of it," he said softly. "I'm sorry that you were ever pulled into all of this in the first place."

Marina frowned. "It's okay," she said awkwardly, "it hasn't been without its perks."

"Such as?" he asked, sounding amused.

"Getting to hang out in Diagon Alley was cool," Marina smirked, "seeing Hogwarts for real, reading all those wizarding books, being around actual magic, going to Greece for the first time, visiting a famous archaeological site – even all the time travel was pretty awesome, minus the bleeding and the reason we were there and us nearly dying."

"Minus that, yes," Tom said dryly.

"And all that's not even taking into account all the people I've got to meet," Marina grinned, ignoring his tone. "So yeah, it definitely has had its perks."

"Good," he said, strangely reserved. "Sometimes I wonder if..."

"Yes?" Marina asked curiously when he trailed off.

"If you resent me," said Tom quietly. "A lot of hardship has fallen your way throughout the course of knowing me."

"Of course I don't resent you," Marina snorted. "I'm like, completely incapable of holding a grudge."

"Oh?" he asked humorously, "even against Dumbledore?"

Marina scoffed. "You're so right," she drawled, "I'll make a special exception just for him."

"How very generous of you," he smirked.

"But seriously," said Marina, frowning. "I don't resent you. I – I could never resent you."

Horribly, Tom did not reply to this, and Marina felt her cheeks flush in the ensuing silence.

"Anyway," she mumbled, "we should get to sleep – Aunt Muriel arrives tomorrow and if half of what Charlie's said about her is true, we'll need all the rest we can get."

"Alright," Tom said evenly.

"Sleep well," she said ironically, trying to regain the lightness of their conversation.

He breathed a little laugh again, and Marina turned away as she pulled the quilt up over her head, unable to hold back her smile.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Marina awoke at the crack of dawn to thunderous rain and sat up at once, watching it rage against the windows. She glanced over and noticed with surprise that Tom was already gone – only to hear footsteps from in front of her and he appeared from the kitchen.

She stared. Tom's hair was sleep-mussed and tousled, and he was wearing a very comfortable looking grey t-shirt whose collar had fallen slightly off to the side, revealing an entirely distracting amount of his collarbone. Marina supposed he must have borrowed the sweatpants from Bill, the only Weasley child anywhere near his height, and he was holding a mug in his hands that he took a slow sip from as he leaned his shoulder against the wall dividing the lounge and the kitchen.

"Good morning," he said smoothly.

I am… so fucked…

"Good morning," Marina managed to get out, still staring at him. The dull, blue-grey light of the stormy morning made his skin look eerily smooth and had turned his eyes the same deep black as his hair.

"Is that coffee?" Marina said stupidly, gesturing at his cup.

"It is," he said conversationally, lifting it to his lips again.

"How do you have your coffee?" she grinned, extremely grateful for the distraction, "I bet you're one of those people who don't take any milk or sugar and then act really pretentiously superior because of it –"

"Actually I take both," he smirked. "Growing up in wartime London left me with something of a taste for decadence, it seems."

Marina stood and stretched, and then pulled the quilt over her shoulders like a massive, comically oversized scarf. "I need coffee, too," she said blearily, shuffling past him.

Tom watched her over the rim of his mug with some amusement. "If you ask nicely, I'll charm you some."

She rounded on him at once. "Please," she said quickly, "please please please please please please –"

Tom smirked and pulled his wand from the pocket of the sweatpants, waving it at the bench.

Things immediately sprang into action, a burnished copper kettle tipping steaming coffee into a waiting cup, frothy milk pouring from a silver jug, and sugar from a porcelain bowl spooning itself in afterwards.

"God you're the best," Marina breathed, seizing the mug gratefully. "Your capability to instantly make me hot drinks outstrips any and all criticisms I've ever had about wizards."

"My my, if only I'd known how easy it was to sway your opinion six years ago," Tom deadpanned. "We could have saved ourselves a great deal of fighting."

"No, you needed those fights," Marina smirked, "it was good to have you think critically about all your weird, shitty prejudices, after all."

Tom gave her a long look, and she was struck again by how unfairly beautiful he was before Mr Weasley came bustling down the stairs to leave for work and gave her an excuse to flee.

Aunt Muriel arrived just before lunch and spent the first hour of her stay criticising nearly everything she set her eyes upon, from the layout of the lounge to Ginny's ponytail.

"You look positively common, Ginervra," Muriel had droned when Ginny had rolled her eyes. "A young lady should wear her hair properly styled, not pulled back so carelessly."

Her piercing eyes lingered pointedly on Marina whose own hair was in a nearly identical style to Ginny's except very messily braided, forcing her to turn away to hide her smirk. Muriel was everything Charlie had promised and more.

The mayhem of the increasingly crowded Burrow was only amplified as the storm outside continued to worsen. Marina barely had a moment of silence the entire day as she weathered Aunt Muriel's snappish criticisms, Mrs Weasley's harrowed flurry of preparations, Fleur and Ginny's brewing tensions, and Fred and George's truly perfectly timed releases of a variety of pranks that included (but were by no means limited to) jinxing the fox-scarf around Muriel's shoulders to bark loudly for forty-five minutes, transfiguring Julian's shoe-laces into extremely pungent seaweed, and unleashing an explosion of fireworks that sent sparkling silver snakes racing around the living room hissing and whistling loudly.

By the time Tonks and her parents arrived late that evening, Marina was utterly exhausted, greeting them tiredly but as enthusiastically as she could. Tonks – pink-haired, heavily pregnant, and cheekily smirking – gave her a wink that had made Marina like her at once. Ginny looked extraordinarily relieved to see Tonks, pulling her into a long hug the second she stepped out of the fireplace and immediately leading her upstairs to talk in her room.

Marina was asleep before her head hit the pillow that evening. She had managed to spend the entire day avoiding Charlie's pointedly knowing looks when she and Tom were in the same room and had thanked the universe for not giving him a chance to confront her about it in the chaos of the day – but her luck, it seemed, had finally run out.

Marina was gently roused from sleep, slowly becoming aware that someone was pulling the quilt over her shoulders. Right before she opened her eyes, she heard something that made her hesitate.

"Tom," Charlie said from somewhere on the other side of the lounge.

The hands disappeared from the quilt at once and Marina forced herself to stay completely still.

"What's up with you and Marina, then?" Charlie asked, sounding like he had a sly smile on his face.

I'm going to fucking kill him, Marina thought brutally.

"What do you mean?" came Tom's voice from right next to her, smooth and composed.

"She was certainly very worried about you when you were gone," Charlie continued knowingly, making Marina decide that his death would be long and painful.

"That does not surprise me," Tom said evenly, "Marina has a terrible habit of worrying more about others than she does herself."

"You got that right," Charlie snickered, "but I reckon it might be more than that. Ginny gave me this today – found it under a book on her desk –"

There was the rustling of paper, and Marina's heart dropped straight through the couch, down through the floor, and settled somewhere in the bottom of the cellar.

"What is this?" Tom asked quietly.

"She was counting down the days, mate," said Charlie.

A long silence passed.

"Marina and I are friends," Tom said calmly.

There was a slight pause, and then –

"Just friends?" Charlie asked softly.

Tom was silent. Marina, long having decided to brutally murder Charlie, was now considering adding several Dante-esque stages of torture beforehand.

"I thought maybe while you guys were in Greece," Charlie continued carefully, "maybe –"

"No," Tom said flatly.

Charlie hesitated. "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

"Positive," Tom said smoothly, "I would never make an advance on her, and should she make one herself, I would reject it."

Marina felt like she'd been punched in the chest.

"Oh," Charlie said simply, sounding rather taken aback. "Well – sorry for putting you on the spot then."

"Not at all," said Tom calmly. "An understandable misconception."

"Well," Charlie slapped his knees as he stood up. "I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow, Tom."

"Goodnight, Charlie."

Marina listened to Charlie's footsteps ascend the stairs, frozen. Only after the lights had gone dark and Marina was utterly sure that Tom was asleep across from her did she open her eyes, brain furiously whirring.

'I would never make an advance on her, and should she make one herself, I would reject it.'

Marina exhaled, pulling her pillow out from under her head and pressing it against her face.

"Idiot," she mumbled quietly, her heatless whisper muffled by the pillow. "What did you expect?"

She screwed up her eyes tightly, trying to pretend like it wasn't to stop herself from crying.

"Don't be pathetic," she muttered into the pillow, not liking how pathetic it sounded.

But her brain was working against her, speed firing image after image of Tom at her like it was trying to taunt her.

Tom looking around at her with his sleeves rolled up and the axe in his hand, sweat on his brow from the exertion of chopping the wood –

Tom sitting in the armchair just across from her the night he'd returned, regal and calm, the firelight flickering in his dark eyes, his face pensive and serious –

Tom holding his hand out to her to Apparate to Azkaban –

Tom's warm fingers closing around hers as he placed the phoenix flint in her hand –

Tom slowly opening his eyes and wearily smiling at her in Ekrizdis' chambers after she'd taken the mask from him –

Tom on the couch next to her in the hotel, sleepily rubbing his eye in that way that had made her heart clench –

It went on and on, an endless stream of flashes of him, all through Argos, through Corinth and Athens, through their nights in the archives, their trips through Mycenae, their stay in Heraklion.

Tom's arms around her in the cave – Tom asleep against her, warm and comfortable, his head leaning on hers – Tom's arm brushing her back as she rested on his shoulder watching the sunrise – Tom's long fingers fluttering on the handle of his mug – Tom with rain dripping off his curls and down his face – Tom in the morning light with messy hair and his dark eyes looking at her over the rim of his mug –

'An understandable misconception.'

"I am so fucked," Marina whispered to the pillow.

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A/N: Listen... the slower the burn the deeper the reward, right?
I've already written the next chapter, so we have a double whammy coming asap ;)
Your reviews sustain me, thank you so much :D if you tell me your fave parts of the chapter I know what to emphasise when I write the next one ;)
Also I feel bad that other characters are taking something of a back seat bc I am gunning it on the plot, I wanted to play around writing more with Ginny and Tonks but hey, that's life, can't have everything.
Hope you are all well ❤️
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