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Chapter 40
The Very Bad Idea
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Content warning: some salaciousness (and some toe-curling amounts of fluff thrown in for good measure). You've been warned.
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MRS WEASLEY LEANED forward and flicked off the radio, sighing deeply. Fred and George had guested that evening's Potterwatch with Lee Jordan, and their very rambunctious game of 'kiss, marry, kill' with various combinations of Death Eaters had clearly exasperated her just as much as it had entertained Marina. Even Tom had smirked when George and Lee had declared Lucius Malfoy 'more kissable' than either Severus Snape or Bellatrix Lestrange, sparking a rather heated debate with Fred that had only ended when they had agreed that they would ultimately prefer killing all three.
"Well, at least there was no one to report missing for once," Mrs Weasley said stiffly, shaking her head in disbelief. "For Merlin's sake, how they get away with all that I will never know…"
"Laughing at the Death Eaters is the best thing they can do on that show," Charlie snorted. "It's a form of warfare in itself considering half of You-Know-Who's scare tactics revolve around making them seem all-knowing and all-powerful."
"It certainly renders them more human," Tom said dryly, leaning back on the couch next to Marina and drawing her gaze for quite some time with his rather captivating nonchalance. "They lose quite a lot of mystique when one is arguing over who would make a worse spouse."
"They should be more careful," grumbled Mrs Weasley, standing and aggressively folding the blanket that she'd had on her lap. "It's the sort of thing they should handle with a bit more sensitivity –"
"If anyone's looking to Fred and George for sensitivity, they're very much barking up the wrong tree," said Charlie with a scoff, standing and rounding up onto the stairs.
"Not so fast, young man," Mrs Weasley said sharply, waving her wand at the cupboard in the corner which instantly spat out a series of thick blankets and folded sheets. "I need you to help bring up the linen for Tom –"
Charlie took an armful of the blankets from the air and shot Marina a cheeky look from behind them. "Which room is he staying in, mum?"
"Fred and George's, dear."
"Are you sure?" Charlie smirked quietly, winking at Marina.
She leapt to her feet, cheeks hot. "Well, I'm going to bed," she said loudly. "See you in the morning."
Marina bypassed Charlie with a very well-timed jab to his ribs that nearly made him drop the blankets, and closed the door to Percy's door behind her – she had relocated there after the holidays, since Ginny's room was still prone to the occasional snowfall and had remained a good five degrees colder than the rest of the house. She sighed deeply, flopping onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. Disappointment and relief that the day had passed without talking to Tom about Christmas Eve raged in her chest, and neither seemed likely to be gaining the upper hand any time soon.
Marina changed into her pyjamas, wrangled her hair into a braid, and had just pulled on her woolliest socks when she heard the light knock at her door. She froze. There was a strangely loaded silence before she slowly approached it and cracked it open. Her heart immediately started beating in double time.
"Hi," she said, very much not meaning to whisper. Tom was wearing that same grey shirt and she had to physically restrain herself from staring at where the collar had slipped down again.
"Hello," he said, lips quirking a bit in amusement.
"I was wondering if I'd ever get a chance to talk to you," Marina smiled, managing to sound half-normal.
"Oh?" Tom arched a brow as he placed a hand on the door frame beside her and leaned there casually, making her stomach flip. "Something on your mind?"
"For quite some time," she said quietly, eyes fixed on his.
He stared back at her a moment, and then he took a long, slow step towards her. Marina's heart jumped into her throat.
"You have not changed your mind, then?" Tom asked quietly.
She laughed in surprise, unable to stop herself. "Did you think I would have?"
Tom frowned like he didn't understand her amusement. "I have been gone for a very long time, Marina."
"And you thought I'd what, forget you exist?" she snorted. "I have better object permanence than that, Tom, I'm not a toddler. Or a fish."
"That is not what I meant," he said curtly. "I thought perhaps that the reality of the last two months may have affected your decision, that you would have had time to take into account how extremely inconvenient this would be –"
"Inconvenient?" Marina repeated rather bitingly, eyebrows raising.
"I will have to return to Malfoy Manor regularly," Tom said sharply, "I will still be posing as a Death Eater and the Dark Lord's heir for days on end –"
"I'm aware," Marina interrupted, folding her arms.
Tom gave her something of a caustic look. "And it cannot have escaped your notice that I am still technically a Horcrux," he continued hotly.
"Are you really?" she drawled. "I'd forgotten – you've been gone too long, you see."
He glared at her. "That means nothing to you? That I do not have a complete soul?"
"No," she said brutally.
"I will still have to die," he said bluntly.
She faltered.
"If I cannot find a solution through my time with the Dark Lord, I will still have to die. This would not change that," said Tom much more quietly, watching her closely.
Marina's gaze raked across his face. There was something almost confrontational about his expression, some penetratingly calculating. "What are you doing?" she asked gently.
Tom frowned again, drawing back a centimetre. "What do you mean?" he asked very evenly.
"Are you testing me?" she pressed, tilting her head.
He didn't say anything, which Marina took as a yes.
"You don't need to," she shrugged. "If there's something you want to say, you can just say it."
Tom was silent for a long moment, assessing her warily. "I have had a lot of time to think since Christmas," he said quietly. "I'm not sure that this is a good idea."
Marina's heart sank so hard that her chest ached, and she had to force herself to keep it off of her face. She nodded slowly, dropping her eyes to the floor. "I see," she said evenly.
"Marina, I am not…" he said lowly, pressingly. He looked down too, brow furrowing like he couldn't figure out how to say what he wanted to say. "I'm hardly… a good choice. It would not be easy for you," he finished softly.
"For me?" Marina repeated, eyes narrowing. "Are you trying to convince me to leave you alone because you've decided it would be better for me?"
"It would be better for you," he said stiffly, "or should I repeat my previous points?"
"You don't actually get to decide what is and isn't good for me, thanks," said Marina rather acidly.
"Nothing about this would be simple," he said tensely, clearly exasperated as he leaned heavily on the doorframe.
"Two years ago I thought you were a book character, Tom, this was never going to be simple," she deadpanned.
"I have to die, Marina," Tom said quietly.
She faltered again, the words washing through her in an aching wave as Tom watched her with guarded eyes. Marina blinked quickly, averting her eyes again so that he couldn't see how hard she was trying to keep herself from crying.
"You can't just not start stuff because it'll end one day," she muttered, frowning. "We'd never be able to do anything at all."
After a long silence, Marina trusted herself to look up at him again. Tom was still watching her, nothing but the visible turmoil in his eyes betraying the composure on his face.
"Besides," Marina continued with an attempt at a half smile, "you should focus on making your own decisions and trust me to handle making mine."
Tom didn't reply but his brow furrowed again at her words, and she could practically hear his head whirring with thoughts.
"When you figure out what you want to do, come talk to me," she said softly, leaning her head on the door. "But until then, you should get some sleep – you look exhausted."
He nodded absently, still frowning. Marina's smile grew as she looked at him, even though she felt sad.
"Goodnight, Tom," she said gently.
Tom's eyes dropped at once. "Goodnight," he said evenly, pushing against his hand and drawing himself back.
Marina slowly shut the door, the click when it closed sounding strangely sharp and making her wince. She turned, leaning back against it and closing her eyes as she listened to Tom's footsteps away from Percy's room back to the main stairway. Marina sighed deeply, her head falling back against the wood with a dull thunk. That had very much not gone how she'd wanted.
A second passed. Marina frowned, her eyes opening.
There was silence on the stairs outside – she couldn't hear Tom's footsteps anymore.
Her head rolled to the side, listening, wondering what he was doing. It hadn't sounded like he'd gotten past the alcove, so why had he stopped? Suddenly, she heard his steps again, but – her stomach swooped – they were getting closer. Her cheeks went hot and her heart picking up its pace very hopefully as she pushed off the door and turned around again, staring at it, waiting in the ringing silence.
"Marina," Tom said quietly from the other side of the door, his voice low and heavy in a way that made her both very nervous and very excited.
She swallowed. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the handle and tentatively opened the door.
Tom stood there, one arm propped on the door frame like before, his eyes flashing up to hers at once and her breath caught in her chest at the heat in them. He was stepping forward before she even had a chance to ask him why he'd come back, two long strides that sent Marina's heart racing and his hands were coming up and cupping her face and she was barely even able to register how good his touch felt before his lips were on hers.
Marina's head spun, her eyes falling shut at once as Tom kissed her so hard she felt dizzy, his lips soft and warm but with an intensity that sent waves of heat across her skin, her hands curling into fists of the soft grey fabric of his shirt. The door slammed shut behind him without him even touching it and Tom turned her smoothly, stepping her back against it without breaking the kiss.
Marina's back hit the door with a jolt that sent a thrill through her and Tom's body pressed in against her at once, warm and solid, so good that it made her stomach twist. Her arms snaked up around his neck and she tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him down to her, kissing him back as hard as she could as her thoughts careened away. He could not get any closer but she wanted him to. Her entire body felt electric and hot as his lips moved against hers insistently, fervently, with an unrelenting pressure that she met in kind. Every one of her senses was screaming about him and there was room for nothing else in her head but the addictive smell of him, the heat of his mouth, the feeling of pushing her fingers through the thick, soft waves of his dark hair –
They suddenly broke apart and it was as if Marina had returned to consciousness, suddenly aware that she was panting like she'd been on a run, heart thundering in her chest and her cheeks aflame. Tom was looking down at her with something burning in his eyes, breathing hard, his hands still cupping her face and his long fingers in her hair. Marina stared up at him, half stunned and half hungry for more.
Tom blinked almost languidly, and he slowly leaned in again. He gently pressed his lips against hers, deliciously hot, unbearably soft, and she couldn't stop the somewhat obscene sound it drew from her. Tom's breath audibly hitched as he pulled away, his eyes tightly shut as he leaned his forehead on hers again.
"Marina," he said lowly. Her heart stuttered – his voice had been transformed into something husky and wanting.
"Yeah?" she whispered.
"We should stop."
"We should," Marina smiled, tilting her head up to bring her lips just barely brushing his.
She couldn't stop her smile from growing when he instantly leaned into it, and her arms tightened to draw him back into her, dazed at how good he felt. The kiss slowed but remained just as heated, and it sent something smouldering through her core that made her rather agree with him. They should stop. Marina pulled back, very much liking the way his eyes immediately flicked up to hers when she did so, liking the reluctance in them even more.
"Still think this is a bad idea?" she breathed cheekily.
Tom's mouth curled into a half smirk and his head cocked to the side a bit. "I never said that I didn't want to."
Marina laughed softly and brought her hands to his face too, still in a bit of a daze that she was apparently allowed to do that now. Her fingertips brushed across his skin half in wonder, half in the insatiable desire to touch him, and Marina slowly leaned forward to gently press her lips to his cheek. It was a strangely intimate gesture that made her suddenly worried that she'd overstepped somehow, and she pulled away to check his reaction.
Was that too… I dunno… romantic?
Tom just looked at her, his expression deepened somehow like something had shifted behind his composure but it hadn't quite reached the surface. She couldn't tell how it had made him feel.
"Well thanks for coming back," Marina said humorously, breaking the moment just to be safe.
He rolled his eyes. "You can't go five minutes without making some dreadful attempt at a joke, can you?" he said dryly, placing his hands against the door on either side of her head and pushing himself back so he could look at her properly.
"No," Marina snorted, "and don't say dreadful, no one's said that in about a hundred years and it makes you sound geriatric."
"Well according to my date of birth, I am seventy one," he smirked.
"According to my date of birth I'm two, so nothing weird about this," Marina grinned playfully.
Tom shook his head slowly, smiling wryly. He leaned down towards her again but to her immense disappointment, he seemed to catch himself. "If I kiss you again I don't think I'll leave," he said quietly, watching her.
"Do you promise?" smirked Marina, pushing off the door and stepping in as she laced her arms around his neck again.
Tom's hands dropped from the door at once, one sliding up the small of her back and drawing her closer as the other gently rested against the back of her head. He leaned down to meet her lips – but again he hesitated.
Marina waited, not understanding what was making him hold back but very much not wanting to push him.
"Are you sure?" he murmured.
She frowned. "About what?"
There was something very careful and cautious in his eyes as he assessed her. "About me," Tom said evenly.
Marina laughed. "Of course I am."
His gaze did not move, and he let out a quiet, strangely tense breath. Marina frowned again.
"Are you?" she asked curiously.
Tom drew back a centimetre like she'd shocked him. "Am I sure about you?" he asked blankly.
"Yeah."
He was silent a moment as he looked back at her, and she suddenly wondered if she'd regret asking.
"Yes," Tom said quietly, an amused smile budding on his lips. "I'm sure."
He huffed his little laugh, tilting his head down and resting against her forehead again as he looked down at her. She was quickly realising that he seemed to like being like that, as if just being that close was enough.
"What?" Marina nudged him.
"Nothing," he said evenly, closing his eyes.
Marina peered up at him, somewhat confused – but her gaze lingered on the shadows under his eyes and the fatigue set into his face. "You're tired," she said, gently resting her hands against his cheeks.
Tom hummed quietly.
"Stay with me tonight," Marina said softly.
His eyes cracked open and he arched a brow, looking very amused.
"Not – not like –" Marina stuttered, dropping her hands and knowing she was blushing. "I just meant –"
"I know what you meant," he smirked. "You're very easy to fluster, you know."
"Great," she grumbled, pushing him lightly as she stepped back. "Well go on then, back to Fred and George's smelly gunpowder room that would blow up the house if you dropped a match near the wrong box –"
Tom closed the unwelcome distance between them with a single step, one hand slipping around her waist and pulling her in again, his other gently guiding her face up to his as he leaned down. He caught her lips in a kiss that wiped the rest of her quip from her mind and Marina's hands flattened against his chest – it was suddenly very hard to remember exactly why she'd been ribbing him the first place.
Tom pulled away slowly, the kiss soft enough to linger. Marina stared at him, somewhat entranced.
"I wasn't refusing," he murmured against her lips.
She just nodded, slid her hands up behind his neck, and pulled him back in.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Marina awoke very warm and very sleepy, noticing at once that something was different. It took her a moment to realise what it was, and her eyes quickly opened in surprise. The room was bright. The sun was already up. She had slept the entire night (and a good part of the morning by the looks of it) for the first time in about four months.
There was a slight sound next to her and she looked around at once.
Her heart thudded hard.
Tom was asleep beside her, half of his face consumed by the pillow beneath him, his breathing soft and even, and his dark hair in sleepy tousled waves that made her want to reach out and touch him. One of his arms was slung across her waist and the other lay beneath her neck, her head resting on his shoulder. Some immense emotion filled her at the sight of him, though she wasn't entirely sure what it was. Marina just looked at him a long moment.
It was surreal – Tom had been gone for so long that seeing him at all still felt impossible, let alone Tom like this. He had been so tense and serious for so long now; dealing with their failure to find what they'd sought from Herpo, the weeks of searching beforehand, going back and forth from Malfoy Manor... her memory of seeing him there at Voldemort's side. Even before that when he was younger, all angry and bitter and scared, suspicious and reserved, collapsing after he reclaimed each Horcrux, seeing him hollowed out in St Mungo's afterwards. She could still see the shadow of it all across him, though perhaps it was because she'd been there with him through it and couldn't quite erase the image of his face bloodied and white, or cold and blank, or taut and disappointed.
Then again, Marina thought, not seeing that shadow would have very much cheapened the juxtaposition of the sight of him like this, utterly relaxed, sleeping quietly beside her, his arms around her warm and heavy, the memory of kissing him making her stomach flutter. They had not stayed awake long the previous night, falling into bed in a sort of fatigued haze and passing out quickly with tangled limbs, seeming too comfortable to be true.
The same indescribable feeling welled in her again, and she turned to him fully.
"Tom," Marina said quietly.
He didn't stir.
She lifted her hand and brushed his hair off to the side of his forehead and then lightly traced her fingers down his cheek, still in awe that she could touch him that way. "Tom," she murmured.
His dark blue eyes slowly opened. For a moment he just looked at her, and Marina's brain traitorously threw out the sudden fear that he might say that he regretted kissing her the previous night and ask them to forget all about it –
But then Tom's arms were closing in around her, gradually pulling her to him until their bodies were flush. He pressed his lips against hers softly, lazily, and Marina felt like she was melting into warmth, feeling borderless in his arms. When he gently broke the kiss, his eyes stayed closed and he took a long, deep breath, looking to be going back to sleep.
"We need to get up," Marina said around her smile, something fluttering happily in her chest.
Tom hummed, but made no indication that he had any intention of moving in the slightest.
"It's late, Tom."
"How late?" he murmured.
"Like, mid morning."
Tom opened his eyes, clearly surprised. He looked up at the window and then rolled away to reach for his wand on the bedside table. He rapped it smartly against the wood and silvery numbers emerged from its tip reading 9:47. He set his wand down and collapsed back onto the bed with an exhale.
"It has been some time since I've slept so long," Tom said drowsily, lifting his hand to his face.
"Same," Marina admitted.
Tom looked at her, and she thought perhaps they were thinking the same thing.
"Well," she said a bit too loudly, knowing she was blushing as she sat up and stretched her arms above her head. "I have to go feed the pigs, Mrs Weasley's not going to be happy I left it so late already –"
"Wait," said Tom quickly, pushing himself up onto his forearm.
Marina glanced back at him, surprised. "Yeah?"
He just looked up at her, an unexpectedly alarmed expression on his face which (her heart lurched again) had little red creases pressed into it from where he'd been lying on the pillow.
"Tom," she said gently, propping her hand on the bed behind her. "What is it?"
But still he hesitated, his brows drawing together and his eyes darting between hers. She could see that something was getting to him, but he did not want to say it. Or, Marina thought, perhaps he didn't know how to say it.
She turned fully and slowly leaned down to him, still unaccustomed to the ease at which she could close the distance between them after so long trying to pretend that she didn't want to. Marina kissed him very softly as her free hand came up to rest against his cheek, enjoying his gentle, though somewhat reserved reciprocation and the strange calmness that came over her. She just barely drew back, letting their foreheads touch in the way he seemed to like. Tom was looking up at her with a strikingly vulnerable expression that she'd never seen on his face before.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.
He swallowed hard, frowning slightly. "I don't want this to end yet," he said very quietly.
"End?" Marina repeated, drawing back a bit in confusion.
"Surely you must have noticed that I can be called away at any time," Tom continued, barely above whisper. He lifted his hand and lightly carded his fingers into her hair, sending tingles across her scalp and down her spine. "And when I leave, I cannot know when I will be back… or if I will be back at all."
Marina frowned too, disliking the idea greatly – but she finally understood what was bothering him. "You're worried this'll be a one time thing?" she asked curiously.
He nodded, and she shivered as his fingers pushed into her hair again and he rested the heel of his palm on her cheek. "Rather unhelpfully exacerbated by the fact that I am still half expecting you to say that you've changed your mind," Tom said softly, eyes travelling across her face almost thoughtfully.
She snorted in amusement, and he arched a brow rather reproachfully at her response.
"Sorry," Marina grinned. "It's just – I was thinking the same thing before. That you might have changed your mind, I mean."
Tom looked at her blankly for a moment, and then he was pulling her down against his lips, kissing her in that slow, hot way that made her immediately forget what they'd been talking about. A hunger for him overwhelmed her and she leaned into the kiss deeply, feeling something shift between them at once as she did so, as if the floor had suddenly vanished and they'd started freefalling. Tom's arms were around her in a second and butterflies exploded in her stomach as he turned her, effortlessly guiding her backwards down onto the bed and pressing down from over her. Marina twisted her hands in his hair, blinded by the fire coursing across her skin as Tom's lips moved against hers with smooth pressure and wonderful intent, his forearms holding himself over her but enough of his weight pressing on her to make her thoughts swirl dangerously. She very reluctantly broke the kiss, immediately hating herself for it.
"Tom," she said breathlessly.
He drew back at once to look at her. The butterflies returned with a vengeance – Tom's eyes had gone near black, only the faintest rim of dark blue still visible, and her attentions had left his hair even more mussed than before. It was deeply unfair, how stupidly attractive he was. Marina felt her logical brain (telling her to get the fuck out of bed now before things got out of control) start losing out against every other part of her (telling her to absolutely let things get out of control).
"We… should…" she started, her words immediately flickering out because he was leaning down to her again – but not to her mouth.
Tom gently pressed his lips just under her jawline and Marina's eyes fell shut as a feeling like glitter broke across her skin. This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair in the slightest. How was she supposed to be responsible and pull away and get up and go start her endless list of chores when Tom's lips were travelling down her neck like that, warm and soft, slow and insistent? When she felt them curve into a smirk at her audible and very obvious response to his touch? When he gently, gently pressed his teeth against her skin, sending a wave of that same glittering heat across her and making her gasp?
"Tom," she tried again, squeezing her eyes shut and trying very hard to focus.
His lips didn't leave her skin as he hummed in response. Marina forced herself to exhale, but it came out more like another gasp.
"I'm serious, we should get up," she stammered – though even as she spoke, her treacherous fingers were curling in his dark hair.
Tom laughed, a breath that she felt brush warm on her as he very softly bit down again, unbelievably delicate, making her lean reflexively up into him. "I'm not stopping you," he said against her skin, smirk audible.
"You know you are," she whispered.
He pulled away, and Marina's breath caught again at the heat in his eyes as he looked down at her. "Do you want me to stop?" Tom asked quietly, eyes flicking between hers.
"What I want is a very different matter," Marina huffed weakly, "what I'm saying is, we need to get downstairs before Mrs Weasley charges in here herself to yell at me about the pigs. Last time I was this late, they got sick of waiting for food and broke out of their pen to rip up the orchard."
Tom nodded, but a crease was appearing between his brows and his hand had come to rest almost possessively against her cheek beneath him. Suddenly, Marina remembered what they'd been talking about before she'd been wholly distracted.
"Hey," she smiled, not liking how serious he looked. "Don't worry, we've got all of today, right? And tonight, and some of tomorrow, and the next time you're back, too. It's not gonna be a one time thing."
But he didn't look particularly comforted by this, something going tight in his jaw and his brow furrowing deeper.
The memory of how he'd looked when he'd first woken up taunted her, and Marina wished that they really could set aside the whole world and everything in it for a bit. She wanted to linger in this strange liminal space where Tom didn't have to go stand at Voldemort's side tomorrow, where he didn't have to figure out a way to get to Nagini or Hufflepuff's cup or Harry himself, where he wouldn't have to let himself be killed after everything they'd been through. She wanted to go back to Tom being warm and relaxed, sleepily drawing her to him to slowly kiss her, nothing but the faintest shadow of it all on his face as she softly touched him.
Some deep sadness swelled in her and Marina leaned up and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as hard as she dared. Almost immediately Tom's arms were around her too, and he laid them both down as she just buried her face against his neck and closed her eyes. She heard him let go of a very tense breath, his arms tight around her body.
A date came to Marina's mind, something from the back of her memory – May 2nd 1998. That was the day of the Battle of Hogwarts, wasn't it? If things were going at least roughly like they had in the book, that was when things finally came to an end, right? When Harry finally faced Voldemort? When he was at long last defeated?
May 2nd.
It was March 1st.
There was a solid chance that Tom would be dead in two months.
His words from the previous night came back to her. 'I will still have to die,' he had said. 'This would not change that.'
Marina's arms tightened and she forced herself to breathe deeply, trying to let the way Tom filled up all her senses wash away her horrible thoughts and their relentless reality. Perhaps he was right and this wouldn't change his fate, but as she felt Tom's fingers lace into her hair and hold her to him, she knew that it had already made it much, much harder.
.•° ✿ °•.
A/N: We did it team... only took 40 fucking chapters...
Got a good bit of salaciousness this chapter, so apologies if that's not really your thing.
AND also a huge shout out to sssalvatxre who is translating this story into Spanish on wattpad (username -adoreriddle, link in my bio)! totally blown away by this, what an amazing thing to do :D
Thank you for your reviews! Y'all sustain me.
°•. ✿ .•°
