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Chapter 41
Voldemort's Command
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"MORNING," CHARLIE SAID slowly, grinning at Marina as she came down the stairs.

She glared at him. "Not a word," she muttered, pointing at him threateningly as she seized the bucket of scraps by the bench.

"About what?" he asked innocently, taking a swig from his mug.

Marina narrowed her eyes at him and pulled on the gumboots lying by the door. "You know very well what I mean," she grumbled.

"Course I don't," Charlie smirked, "oh – unrelated side note, but I think I'll stop wasting my precious time making beds in Fred and George's room since I have a feeling no one's actually going to be sleeping in there anymore –"

Marina threw open the kitchen door and sped off across the yard, acutely aware of how hot her cheeks felt. She dragged out feeding the pigs for as long as she could but horrifically, Charlie's smirk was still in place when she returned.

"You're up rather late today," said Charlie very casually.

"You're lazing around as usual," Marina countered pointedly, nodding at his leisurely late-morning coffee as she set the bucket back down.

"Didn't sleep well?" he continued with a wide grin, smugness rendering him impervious to her deflection attempts. "Or perhaps, not much at all?"

"Charlie," Marina deadpanned with an admonishing look, kicking off the gumboots.

There were footsteps on the stairs and they both turned to see Tom pulling down his jumper as he stepped into the kitchen. His hair had been slightly mussed from the motion and Marina couldn't quite draw her gaze away from him as he straightened his collar, cheeks rather warm again.

"Oh hello, Tom," Charlie said very airily, leaning back in his seat and looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.

Tom briefly met Marina's eyes and seemed to clock her exasperation at once. "Good morning, Charlie," he said very smoothly, an amused smile flickering slightly on his lips.

"Just friends, huh?" Charlie asked wryly, having entirely too much fun with the situation.

"Well," Marina said loudly, striding off across the kitchen towards escape. "I'm going to go find Mrs Weasley – I'm sure she had something she'd like me to do –"

She marched past Tom with averted eyes before climbing the stairs two at a time. Almost as if in balance to Charlie's relentless quips, Mrs Weasley made no comment about Tom and Marina's sleeping arrangements – though she did keep giving them very soft looks whenever they were in the same room which inspired Marina to tackle some of the more challenging chores out in the garden that she'd been avoiding for weeks.

As she battled with the tightly bound fronds of the Flitterbloom bush trying to take over the strangled lemon tree, an idea had taken root in her head – and it was proving just as difficult to dislodge. When she returned to the house an hour later, she found Tom sitting at the kitchen table leaning attentively over Mrs Weasley's clock with his wand in hand, attempting to get the thing working again.

"Hey," she frowned as she sat opposite him and looking down at her dirt-smeared hands.

He looked up, his eyes travelling across her face and taking in her expression. "What's wrong?" he asked evenly.

She exhaled. "Look, I need you to not be stupid for a second."

Tom's brow arched. "Only for a second?" he asked dryly.

"I think we should break into Gringott's," Marina said bluntly.

Tom was silent for a long moment, his expression unchanging as he looked at her.

"That is an absolutely terrible idea," he said in an utterly deadpan tone.

"How else are we going to get Hufflepuff's cup?" she retorted, leaning forward. "Listen, I think it's worth –"

"Marina," Tom interrupted, looking back down at the clock. "Goblins are significantly more observant than Dementors, they won't be fooled by a Death Eater mask and some black robes –"

"What about Polyjuice potion?" she interrupted right back, feeling a bit annoyed at his reluctance to even entertain the idea.

"Do you have some Polyjuice potion?" asked Tom very dubiously, glancing up at her.

"No – but – when we stole the diary from the Malfoys, I got a hair off Narcissa," she said quickly. "Before everything went to shit, we were planning on using it to get into Gringott's – Dumbledore probably put it somewhere safe, right? I don't see why we couldn't just brew some Polyjuice potion and use it now to –"

"Resembling Narcissa might get you through the front door, but it will not get you into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault," Tom said evenly, wand dancing across the complicated network of burnished cogs and strangely-shaped contraptions on the inside of the clock. "For that you would need her key as proof that she ordained the access." He glanced up at her again, this time rather wryly. "And unless you also managed to purloin that whilst at Malfoy Manor and simply neglected to mention it until now –"

"Then how do we get the cup?" Marina demanded.

He did not respond, eyes fixed on the clock as he worked at it.

"Tom," she prompted sharply.

He let a hard breath out through his nose and looked up at her, expression agitated. "I am very aware of how the Horcruxes would have been dealt with had you not intervened, Marina," he said. "I am also aware that Harry Potter and his friends have been missing for months following secret orders from Dumbledore. It is not difficult to draw a possible connection between the two."

Marina gaped at him a moment. "Are you trying to imply that Dumbledore told Harry to hunt down and destroy the remaining Horcruxes before he died?"

Tom's jaw was tight and his eyes hard as he responded. "Perhaps. A part of my soul lies in Harry Potter as we speak, and Dumbledore knew that it must be destroyed by the Dark Lord if Harry is to survive their eventual confrontation," he said, voice deceptively even. "That would dictate that my soul will still be incomplete even if I managed to reclaim the fragment in Hufflepuff's cup. It will make very little difference to my fate if it is destroyed instead."

"So you're not even going to bother trying to get it?" Marina asked disbelievingly. "Are you serious?"

"They managed to extract it from Gringott's in your version of events, did they not?" he asked coolly. "Considering that you've told me yourself that things are progressing much the same, is it so unreasonable to assume that they will be able to do the same now? The insurmountable risk of what you're suggesting is not worth the rather meagre reward."

"You're being stupid," she said sharply. "I expressly told you not to be stupid."

"How exactly do you propose we break into the vault, then?" Tom retorted tensely, so agitated that he lowered his wand from the clock and leaned back in his chair. "Would you have me show my face and imply that I'm on business for the Dark Lord again? I doubt he will take kindly to hearing that I have been using my position to surreptitiously gain access to my fellow Horcruxes against his express orders –"

"I don't know yet, but we could at least try to think of something without totally dismissing it!" Marina said loudly.

"Gringott's is one of the most heavily guarded and monitored buildings in the entire wizarding world," said Tom, voice low and vehement, "but even if we did have the knowledge and means to fool its defences, there are still other obstacles that render your plan unfeasible. Gringott's may have escaped relatively unscathed from the Dark Lord's influence, but he by no means lacks allies there. If you and I so much as enter the place, the Dark Lord would know within seconds, even if –" he swiftly raised his hand as Marina opened her mouth to interrupt, " – you resembled Narcissa. She is herself under close scrutiny, and not normally found in my company. It would still be incredibly suspicious."

"Well how about I go alone? Or you take the potion and you go?" Marina suggested quickly, though she knew it was futile.

"We still do not have Bellatrix's key," Tom continued with a horrible patience, "and Goblins are not exactly famous for their trusting dispositions. They would accept nothing less, especially during current times."

"Can we get her key, then?" Marina pressed.

"Marina, you are not listening," Tom said through gritted teeth. "Even in the hypothetical situation where we attain her key, we would have to come up with a way to assuage the inherent suspicion of Narcissa Malfoy suddenly trying to access her sister's vault in her absence, somehow fool the myriad of other security measures that Gringott's has in place, find and locate the Horcrux within Bellatrix's vault when she is bound to have her own host of defences, and somehow escape undetected. Not to mention that using Polyjuice potion would require us to accomplish all of this within a strict time limit."

"But –" Marina attempted, but Tom was relentless.

"And even if your plan succeeds and we reclaim the cup, do you suppose that Gringott's will not contact Bellatrix about her sister's mysterious request to access her vault? That she will not immediately deduce that an imposter has managed to find their way inside? That the Dark Lord will not know of it as soon as she does? His suspicion surpasses even that of the Goblins themselves, and it would only be a matter of time before he would know that his Horcrux had been targeted. Even in the best case scenario, going after the cup still changes nothing for me – and in reality, it will only worsen our circumstances. It may as well simply be destroyed."

"Alright!" Marina exclaimed hotly, glaring at him.

Tom finally fell silent, jaw tight as he met her gaze.

"I get it, fucking hell," she continued acidly, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms.

A very tense silence pervaded the table.

"So that's it, then?" Marina asked bluntly. "We're not even trying to get the cup?"

He only looked at her.

"And Nagini?" she continued recklessly. "What about her?"

Tom sighed tersely. "If I reclaim the soul from her, I fear that the Dark Lord's rather unusually strong mental connection with her will be altered in some way," he said carefully. "In addition, I highly doubt that she would keep my actions a secret, meaning that he would know that –"

Marina exclaimed in frustration. "What are we even doing, then?" she bit out, gesturing wildly with one hand. "Waiting around for shit to hit the fan? For Harry to show up and start slinging spells at You-Know-Who so we know the final showdown's about to begin?"

Tom's eyes flashed. "I had assumed that you were being facetious when you made your comments about me swanning around Malfoy Manor," he said scathingly, "but let me assure you that I am, in fact, rather preoccupied with investigating anything I can pertaining to Horcruxes without raising the alarm. There is very little waiting around involved."

"Weird then, how it seems like you've already given up," Marina said rashly.

Tom stood swiftly, sending the chair scraping back a loud few inches across the floor. "I am being realistic, Marina," he said through a clenched jaw, his eyes burning. "You might want to start following my lead."

"I'm not just going to lie down and let you die!" she exclaimed angrily. "We have to do something –"

"This is exactly what I was afraid of," Tom interrupted bluntly, looking away.

"What do you mean by that?" she said at once, feeling something hot roil in her chest.

"I told you last night that things between us could not, and would not change my fate," he said coolly, eyes fixed on some inscrutable point in the far corner of the kitchen. "I should have known that it was a mistake to –"

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by Marina abruptly standing herself, sending her own chair sliding back noisily. The hot feeling flooding her chest had been joined by a cutting wave of hurt and she stared at him, heart pounding, holding back furious tears. Tom's expression faltered slightly as he seemed to realise the implications of what he had said, but she was already out the kitchen door and into the garden.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

He came to find her where she was sitting on the fence at the bottom of the hill a good hour later, approaching without a word and standing silently behind her, waiting.

Marina took a long breath, staring at the countryside. "Sorry for running off," she muttered without looking around.

"It's alright," Tom replied evenly.

Marina rested her chin on her bent knee and fiddled with the laces of her sneaker propped on the post she was sitting on as Tom came closer, leaning back against the fence beside her.

"Marina, you knew that this would be the most likely outcome," he said softly.

"If you're asking me to be okay with you dying, it's not going to happen," she frowned, twisting her laces around her finger again and again, "and it would be mighty stupid of you to ask that of me in the first place."

In her peripheral vision she saw Tom looked back up towards the Burrow, heard his weary sigh of exasperation, and she anticipated his reply by cutting him off before he could even get started.

"I get what you're saying," Marina said firmly, closing her eyes and willing her voice to stay even. "I get it. I know the logic behind it. I know we can't just prance into Gringott's as Narcissa Malfoy, or pull a fast one with Nagini, or put Harry on the chopping block in your place – I get that, I really do." She paused, trying to collect herself. "I know how things are… likely to go," she managed to get out, voice going horribly thick.

Tom had gone both very quiet and very still.

"But you can't ask me to be okay with it," Marina finished quietly, finally daring to look at him. "You can't."

Tom's eyes were already on her, dark and heavy, a slight frown on his face as he watched her speak. There was something in his expression that struck her hard and Marina felt the same indescribable feeling she'd been overcome with that morning well up in her. For all her avoiding looking at him, she was suddenly quite unable to look away.

Tom seemed to hesitate a moment longer, and then he was slowly leaning in towards her, gaze slightly curious almost like he was checking for her reaction. Marina could only watch him draw closer, her eyes falling shut when she felt his hand come up and lightly cup her face. His lips were on hers the next second, soft and warm, so gentle that it made her chest ache. After a slow moment he pulled away, but only just.

"Marina…" he frowned, eyes downturned, "I did not mean to imply that I regret last night, I shouldn't have said –"

But Marina had other ideas. She reached out and seized a fistful of his shirt, tugging him back in. Tom's other hand was against her cheek in an instant, stepping closer as Marina leaned heavily into the kiss. She pushed herself around to face him properly and laced her arms around his neck, drawing him closer so that he was in front of her, trying to banish their conversation from her thoughts and replace it only with how Tom felt, the way her stomach swooped as his lips moved against hers, the heady, stupidly good way he smelled, his hands against her face and in her hair, his hips between her knees –

May 2nd.

Marina broke the kiss, her heart thudding painfully as her head fell. "You promised me you'd try," she said quietly.

Tom's hands gently but resolutely lifted her face, and Marina met his eyes to find him tense again. "I am," he said vehemently. "But I will not waste our efforts on a futile endeavour that will bring more harm than good."

Marina took another deep breath, willing herself to not cry. "I know you're right –"

"Of course I am," Tom said dismissively.

She snorted despite herself. "As I was saying, I know you're right, but it feels like you're saying that there's nothing we can do."

"There's nothing we can do, Marina," he said quietly, his head tilting to the side a bit. "There may be plenty for me to do, but you cannot help me this time."

She stared at him.

Tom smiled slightly, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. "You have done enough already," he said as Marina battled to keep her eyes from falling shut at his touch. "Far more than you ever needed to do."

"Don't be stupid," Marina managed to say, barely above whisper.

"You saved my life," he said evenly.

She felt her breath catch in her throat. The memory of Tom on the floor of the café in 1948 struck her hard. "Only the once," Marina mumbled with a weak shrug.

"I think you and I both know that it was more than once," said Tom, his gaze very measured as he looked down at her.

Marina pressed her lips together. "If you're talking about taking back the Horcruxes, you did that yourself," she said, having to look away from him and the heaviness in the way he was looking at her. "Me yelling at you to be nicer wouldn't have made much difference if you hadn't actually listened."

Tom huffed a laugh. "That is certainly an interesting way of surmising what you did, I must say."

"It's effectively what happened," she smiled ruefully.

He leaned in closer, halting just before her lips and making Marina's heart give a slightly concerning flutter. "My memory of it is quite different," he murmured.

"What do you remember?" she asked, barely managing to get her voice out of a whisper.

"I remember the first time you wrote in my diary," Tom said quietly.

Marina frowned in surprise. It hadn't been what she'd expected.

"That you were a Muggle was effectively the first thing I knew about you," he continued in the same tone, "I confess, back then there was nothing further that I considered worth knowing – I didn't take you particularly seriously until you confronted me about my future."

"Oh really?" she snorted. "What a huge surprise."

"Yes, thank you," he said crisply, "I am aware that I used to be somewhat…"

"A dick?" Marina smirked.

"The point I'm trying to make," he continued hotly, "is that I know that even though I made things difficult for you, you were invariably relentless in the face of Dumbledore's scepticism that I was even worth the effort."

Marina's smirk fell.

"I think it fair to say that had you not been there to intervene, he would have destroyed the diary the first moment that he suspected that I was not being fully sincere in my conduct," Tom finished, his expression almost thoughtful. "That counts as you saving my life, does it not?"

There was a strange cocktail of emotions in Marina's chest. "I – I suppose –"

"For that matter, if you had not been there, I would have remained a Horcrux to be destroyed on the path to defeat the Dark Lord," said Tom very evenly.

"Not exactly," Marina said sheepishly. "You got stabbed by a twelve-year-old in the Chamber of Secrets, it wasn't really as grand as a Horcrux hunt back then."

Tom gave her a very dry look. "Regardless," he said, "I think we can agree that it was more than once."

She frowned, staring at the Burrow on the hill behind him. "Let's see if I can add another to the list," she muttered.

He lifted her face again, making her meet his eyes. "Marina, you have done enough," he repeated quietly. "It is not fair to call what you have done saving my life. Were it not for you, I would not have truly lived at all."

A breath fell from her like a great weight had been placed on her chest, and Marina pulled him towards her to kiss him again.

May 2nd, her thoughts said.

Fuck off, she told them, sliding her hands into Tom's hair and kissing him harder.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

He left the next morning, so early that Marina barely had time to wake up before he was gone. She knew why he'd done it – if he'd stayed long enough for her to properly wake up, it would have been that much harder to leave. It still stung.

The Burrow was quiet that day, and the day after that, too. In fact, things remained quiet until Tom returned at the end of the week, upon which quietness was abruptly banished.

It was just past midnight but Marina was still awake, sitting in the lounge with Fantastic Beasts sipping tea from the mug Tom had given her when, with the crisp snap that she had come to associate with Tom Apparating, he was suddenly in front of her by the fireplace. Whatever excitement or relief she might have felt at his appearance was immediately replaced by panic as Tom collapsed heavily against the mantelpiece, seeming barely able to hold himself upright.

Marina was on her feet and beside him in an instant, her heart lurching horribly as she caught sight of him – Tom's face was gaunt and pale, and his eyes unnervingly distant.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, scanning him for any sign of injury as her hands went out to stabilise him.

"Nothing," Tom said sharply, not looking at her as he turned out of her reach to face the mantel, his hands gripping it hard.

She dropped her hands, trying not to feel stung. "Tom," she said very sceptically.

"I am perfectly fine," he snapped, jaw tight as he closed his eyes and dipped his head. He gave a long, aggravated sigh somewhere between annoyance and exhaustion.

Marina hesitated, torn between following his obvious appeal to be left alone and her mounting concern. As she stared at his profile, at the tense, agitated lines of his posture and the hard line of his mouth, her decision was made. She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Tom," Marina said again, much more gently.

He opened his eyes. A second later, he lifted his head and looked at her – but she could read nothing in his expression. Her unease only grew.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

Tom was silent, steadily holding her gaze but conceding nothing. Just when Marina was about to relent and prompt him again, he suddenly reached out to her and drew her to him, arms wrapping too tightly around her in a way that that made her frown with worry.

"Hey," she said in concern, returning his embrace. He only gave another long breath, sounding just as tense. "Tom, what –"

"Later," he muttered as he rested his forehead against her hair.

Marina couldn't see his expression, but he suddenly sounded far more towards the exhausted side of the spectrum than annoyed. She sighed tensely, suppressing her desire to question him further. "Alright," she mumbled, pressing her face against his chest.

He didn't tell her until they were upstairs, Marina very nearly asleep when he suddenly spoke.

"The Dark Lord forbade me from ever killing anyone when he first met me," Tom said quietly into the darkness of the room.

Marina opened her eyes. She was lying beside him with her head on his shoulder, and even though she could barely make him out, she looked up at his face.

"I think he fears that I might create a Horcrux of my own," Tom continued, his tone a perfectly constructed thoughtful curiosity as he stared up at the ceiling, "that I might grow ambitious myself and attempt to usurp him. One can only imagine how his paranoia might grapple with that possible chain of events."

Marina stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue. His arm lay beneath her waist, but he was utterly still. Something in the way that he wasn't drawing her to him made her think that perhaps it was just time to listen.

"But regardless of how convenient it is for me that he not expect me to commit murder alongside him, he still requires that I… prove myself to him," said Tom, terribly calm, "demonstrate my loyalty, and my obedience. Sometimes he commands that I conduct his interrogations, or enact his punishments upon those who have displeased him."

Marina's eyes widened.

"He asked me to do so today," Tom said in the same tone, "he brought someone to the Manor who supposedly had knowledge on whatever he is so desperately searching for, but…" Tom swallowed hard, the first crack in his detached air of composure. "I suspect that the boy did not really know anything of importance. The Dark Lord would never have had me partake in the interrogation if there was any real possibility that something could have been revealed of his quest. It was just… for his amusement."

"The boy?" Marina repeated very quietly.

Tom's posture stiffened nearly imperceptibly. "He was a child," he said softly. "Barely ten."

Marina's stomach dropped.

"He is dead now," said Tom, just as calmly but with a noticeable hollow quality to his voice. "The Dark Lord murdered him once he supposedly decided that the boy had nothing of import to reveal, though it took a number of hours for him to arrive at that conclusion."

Marina pushed herself up onto her forearm, trying to see him in the moonlit room. Although his expression was hidden by the darkness, she could tell that he was looking at her too.

"Tom," she said, horrified, unsure what the hell she could say.

He had grown strangely taut, his arm beneath her tense and unmoving like the rest of him.

Marina placed a hand on his cheek, her chest tight with emotion. "Are you…" She swallowed, unable to finish. It felt like an incomprehensibly tactless move to ask if he was alright. "Jesus, that's…"

"You're not angry?" he asked quietly.

"Angry?" she repeated breathlessly, disbelievingly, "god, Tom, no – I –" She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him to her, resting her chin on the crown of his head as she held him tightly. "I'm so sorry," she said hollowly. "That's… I – I'm so sorry that you…"

As if a barrier had been broken, Tom finally moved, his arms closing tightly around her middle and his forehead pressing against her sternum as he breathed deeply again. Marina's fingers tangled into his hair, the horror of his story still hanging heavily over her heart.

"I don't want you to go back there," she whispered.

"I have to." His voice was muffled against her chest, still even, still composed.

"I know," she said tightly. "Don't remind me."

Tom only took another deep breath and she felt him relax, even as his arms around her waist held her tighter. The idea of him returning to the Manor was making her skin feel hot and her stomach turn. Was it worth it? Was he gaining enough from being at Voldemort's side to warrant this kind of price? Her head was saying yes, that it was worth fighting for any chance they had at figuring out a way to draw the soul from Voldemort and delay Tom's apparently inevitable descent into Limbo, that he might figure out something to do about Nagini without alerting Voldemort, that he could keep being their eyes and ears behind the Death Eater lines – but her heart felt sick.

"That feels very nice," Tom murmured.

Marina blinked – she suddenly realised that she'd been absently carding her fingers through his hair for some time. "I better keep doing it, then," she said quietly, resuming the motion.

Tom hummed, seeming like he might be falling asleep. Marina pressed her lips against his forehead and tried to keep her breathing even as she continued pushing her fingers through the waves of his hair. For now, for tonight at least he was here, away from it all. For now, that would have to be enough.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The next time Tom returned to the Burrow, Marina was almost expecting the worst. She heard Mrs Weasley's loud, excited exclamation from downstairs and immediately dropped the box of books she was helping Charlie move to the attic onto his bed. She made it out the door and down the stairs at breakneck speed, nearly bowling straight into Tom who already had a foot up the bottom step.

"Are you alright?" Marina asked quickly, hands going to his face and assessing him anxiously.

He gave her a very tired smile and took another step – even though he was still on the one below her, he was already slightly taller than her. "Yes," said Tom quietly, "I'm alright."

She wasn't entirely sure she believed it – he looked even more exhausted than usual. Marina pulled him into a hug that he immediately leaned into with a worryingly fatigued exhale, and she glanced over at Mrs Weasley in the lounge to find her looking equally concerned.

"You two take the afternoon off," Mrs Weasley said with a good attempt at her usual, bustling tone as she waved her wand at the dishes from their morning tea on the coffee table, stacking them on top of each other in a precariously wobbling tower. "I'm sure you want to catch up – Charlie and I will manage plenty, Marina, don't worry," she added, seeing Marina open her mouth with a frown.

But mere seconds after Marina had gotten Tom over to the couch, he had already fallen asleep, his head on her lap and still in his horrible Death Eater robes. She nearly threw Fantastic Beasts at Charlie when he came racing down the stairs making an almost impressive amount of noise – though to his credit, he froze when he caught sight of them.

"Oh, sorry," Charlie said sheepishly as he crept down the last few stairs. "Merlin, he looks rough."

Marina sighed. "I know," she muttered, glancing down at Tom. The shadows under his eyes were worse, and he was drawn out and pale in a way that almost reminded her of how he'd looked after reclaiming a Horcrux. "I wish he wouldn't go back there," she said quietly, a decidedly bitter note in her voice.

Charlie sat down in the armchair next to her. "At least he has a place to come to get away from it at all," he said seriously, "I imagine it would be a lot worse if he was stuck there all the time."

"That's true," she conceded, absent-mindedly brushing Tom's hair to the side off his forehead with gentle fingers.

"I'm glad you two finally stopped being idiots and figured things out," Charlie said casually, leaning sideways in the chair and flinging his legs across the armrest. "Merlin's beard, I could only take so much more of the staring…"

"I still haven't forgiven you for showing him my calendar," Marina smirked.

Charlie rolled his eyes dramatically. "Worked out in the end, didn't it? Don't see what the problem is."

"The problem is that he thought you were asking him if he was trying to get your girlfriend to cheat on you," she said dryly.

"That's still technically your fault," he shrugged unaffectedly.

She snorted, and immediately glared at him. "Don't make me laugh, I don't want to wake him up."

"Considering you've decided to take the afternoon off to laze around cuddling with your boyfriend and left me to slave away making you dinner, I think I'll very much do what I want," Charlie grinned.

"You're an asshole," she said blandly, "Tom's pretty obviously in dire need of some sleep –"

"Oh yeah, you're being totally selfless right now," he said sarcastically, winking at her. "You're getting absolutely no enjoyment out of this at all."

"Shut it," Marina said fiercely – or at least, tried to say fiercely. Her smile really ruined the effect.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A week later, Marina was awoken by the sounds of someone very carefully closing the door to Percy's room. She listened, very much still half-asleep as Tom approached, just as careful in his movements as he laid down beside her. His arm slowly wrapped around her waist, his head falling onto her shoulder, and he let out a long, weary breath. She forced her eyes open and turned to look at him.

"Tom," Marina said sleepily, snaking her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.

"You're awake," he said softly.

She nodded, very much losing the battle to keep her eyes open. "How long are you staying?" she murmured.

"Just tonight," he said quietly, brushing back her hair and making her shiver slightly. "I have to leave before sunrise."

Marina frowned in disappointment. Usually he stayed at least a day or two.

"Are you wearing my jumper?" Tom asked, sounding both surprised and amused.

"Oh, I forgot," she mumbled drowsily, freeing her arms and starting to tug it off.

"You don't have to do that," he said quickly, "I wasn't criticizing –"

"No, I don't need it now," Marina yawned, leaving the jumper behind her as she leaned back into him, pressing her face against the warmth of his body. "I've got the real thing."

He laughed once, very softly.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The days grew slightly warmer and the frosts more mild as Easter crept closer, but a blustery breeze blew over the Burrow upon Ginny's return for the holidays that made the windows tremble and the chimneypieces moan in the night. Marina barely slept, partly from the noise but mostly because Tom had not been back for more than a week.

Seeing the date tick over every morning on the Daily Prophet had become a form of self-flagellation, the knowledge of what was to come burning inside of her like a hot coal. She couldn't avoid looking, but it made her sick to do so.

The owl arrived the following morning whilst they were having breakfast, nondescript and without ceremony. Charlie got up from beside Marina and mussed her hair as he passed her, dodging her retaliation as he reached for the letter and ripped it open.

"Who's that, Charlie?" Mr Weasley called from where he was looking over the Prophet next to Ginny.

"Bill," he said distractedly, eyes scanning the page. "He says he's got something important to…"

Charlie trailed off. Marina, Ginny, and Mr and Mrs Weasley all looked around at him quizzically. Marina's stomach twisted in anxiety when she saw his face – Charlie looked as pale and as horrified as she'd ever seen him.

"We need to get to Muriel's, now," Charlie said loudly, throwing down the letter on the table in front of his parents. "The Death Eaters caught Harry – they know Ron's with him – they'll be coming for us any minute."

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A/N: Thank you for bearing with me during my little hiatus! I had a mean case of writer's block, and I find it's better to just slowly let it come back rather than forcing myself to write. Extra long chapter to make up for it ;)
I've been really tossing up introducing further salaciousness into this story, I've never posted more adult content before. Let me know in a review if you'd be into that or if things should remain as they are now, I'd honestly be cool with either (so long as I officially ban my sister from ever reading it again).
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