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Chapter 43
Secrets of the Darkest Art
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A LOUD BANG rattled the cobwebbed chandelier above Marina's head as a huge plume of pink smoke and golden sparks erupted around her, leaving her in fierce a coughing fit. Over the mayhem, she could vaguely hear Mrs Weasley's distant furious bellows and Aunt Muriel's indignant complaints berating Fred and George who were snickering loudly somewhere in front of her in the narrow hallway.
"It works then," Fred chortled, clapping George on the shoulder.
"Better than I thought it would," George grinned.
Marina wiped her eyes and squinted at them through the dissipating pink cloud. "What did you do, now?" she asked tiredly, fearing the worst.
"Listen, we've got a business to run, Marina," Fred said seriously, "it's the least you could do to help us test products."
"Yeah, don't be selfish," George added cheerfully, "you're the ideal test subject, after all."
She sighed heavily and placed a hand on the wall to help make her way down the hall a bit to the silver-rimmed mirror that hung by the entrance. Her hair was a vibrant watermelon pink. She turned to them, beaming. "Was this supposed to be a prank?"
Their grins faltered.
"I'll take a couple more if you've got them," she shrugged, turning back to the mirror. "How long will it last?"
"A few hours," George said slowly, looking decidedly put out by her positive response.
"Can you make it last longer?" she asked, running a hand through the pink waves.
Fred leaned to mutter to George, "note for later, move Horror Hair Bombs to the cosmetics section."
"You'll make a fortune," Marina snickered.
"Alright you two, stop experimenting on our hapless Muggle, please," Charlie said loudly, appearing from the lounge. "Muriel's already on the brink of wringing your necks with all these bloody owls coming and going without this racket on top of things…"
"Mail-order business don't run itself, Charlie," George beamed unaffectedly as he and Fred retreated back to their room.
"Hapless, huh?" Marina echoed, quirking a brow.
"You know what I mean," Charlie rolled his eyes. "By the way – Bill's coming tonight with Ollivander."
Marina stopped admiring her pink hair at once and rounded on Charlie sharply. "What? No Griphook?"
"No, he just said Ollivander," Charlie frowned at the letter still clutched in his hand.
Marina stepped forward at once. "Could I see that?"
Charlie handed her the letter and she scoured it quickly. "Griphook has decided to remain with us where he is best suited to pass his recovery… what the hell does that mean?" she read aloud, thoughts racing - then something in her memory clicked. Griphook didn't just help Harry plan their Gringott's break-in, he went with them, the Sword of Gryffindor promised to him as payment. But… Harry had drawn the Sword from the Sorting Hat in the Chamber of Secrets fighing the basilisk, and that hadn't happened anymore - so what had they promised him in return for his help? Feeling nervous and wondering exactly how much they'd accidentally changed, Marina handed Charlie back the letter. "We can ask Ollivander about it when he arrives, I suppose," she said distractedly, mostly to herself.
"You alright?" Charlie asked, peering at her.
She nodded.
"Sure?"
Marina blinked and looked up at him. The desire to nod again was strong, but… "Not really," she said quietly. "What if… what if I can't fix this, Charlie?"
Charlie hesitated, and then pulled her into a hug. "What's that story you Muggles tell again?" he asked, squeezing her. "About that guy holding up the planet?"
"You mean Atlas?" she snorted, surprised.
"Yeah, you're like him but if no one made him hold it and he just went over and picked it up anyway."
"Gee, thanks," Marina muttered.
Charlie pulled back and held her firmly by the shoulders. "Stop carrying the whole world by yourself, Marina" he said seriously, "it's going to crush you."
She stared at him a moment, rather taken aback. "You know, in that story he's actually forced to hold up the sky and not the earth itself, it's a common misconception that –"
"Shut up, I'm trying to make a point," Charlie said dryly.
"Yeah well," she said, looking away, "maybe the world's heavy but someone's got to hold the bloody thing."
"I'm not telling you to put it down, you idiot, I'm saying that you don't have to hold it up alone."
Marina looked at him, suddenly trying to hold back an unexpected onslaught of tears. "Right," she said thickly, frowning. "Thanks."
Charlie sighed, shaking his head. "Come on then," he smiled, "let's get that bed sorted for Ollivander."
"Where's he staying?"
"With Fred and George."
She snorted again. "He'll be missing Malfoy Manor's hospitality by the week's end."
That very evening whilst they crowded into Muriel's hideous sitting room (there were three discrete stuffed cats, enough china in the cabinets to serve the entire Weasley clan at once, and entirely too many garlands of ugly dried flowers dominating every available surface), there was a loud knock at the front door. Everyone drew their wands, and Mrs Weasley leapt to her feet with a tense expression.
"Stay here," she said firmly, making for the hall.
Fred and George went to follow her, but she gave them a fierce look as she left that made them both sit back down at once.
"Who's there?" they heard her call.
"William Arthur Weasley!" came Bill's voice above the pattering rainfall outside. "Eldest child of Molly Cordelia Prewett and Arthur Septimus Weasley, accompanying Garrick Ollivander from my home Shell Cottage where I'm harbouring a fair few teenage fugitives!"
Charlie snickered, and Muriel tsked very disapprovingly.
Mrs Weasley pulled the door open and they listened as she fussed them all the way down the hall and into the sitting room. Bill's hair was damp and wind-swept and he looked somewhat worn out, and his arms were firmly supporting –
"Ollivander," Marina said slightly nervously, getting to her feet.
Ollivander's piercing gaze fell upon her at once. "Marina," he said in his whispery voice as Bill and Mrs Weasley helped him into the seat nearest the fireplace. "What an unexpected pleasure…"
She seized the teapot and poured him a cup, handing it to him and crouching beside his seat. "You were with Harry and the others?"
Ollivander took the cup with trembling hands and took a very slow sip, before sighing deeply and closing his eyes, sinking a good few inches into the seat. He looked exhausted, unhealthily frail and somehow even thinner than when she had last seen him, his bones jutting out under his yellowing, papery skin.
"Give him a moment, Marina," Bill said quietly, "I can talk to you about Harry."
"No," Ollivander said, feebly lifting a hand. "No, I am well." He opened his eyes and fixed them on Marina. "What do you wish to know?"
"They're… planning something," she said tentatively.
Ollivander's gaze seemed to sharpen. "Yes," he said carefully. "Yes, I believe they were."
"Do you know what?"
"No," he said softly, "they did not see fit to discuss their plans with me."
She hesitated. "But Griphook agreed to help them."
"Yes," he said slowly, looking at her with interest.
"For a price."
Ollivander paused, his wild brows pulling together on his wrinkled face. "I know not of their bargain," he whispered, lifting the cup to his lips. The rim was trembling, sending ripples across the surface of the tea.
Marina swallowed her swelling disappointment. "Did they tell you what they've been doing? Over the past few months?" she pressed, leaning forward intently.
He shook his head. "But I know they travelled far, further even than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
Marina frowned, drawing back in surprise. "They've been overseas?"
"I only heard what they mentioned in passing," Ollivander muttered, eyes closing in fatigue. "They were very secretive, and rightly so."
"What did they mention?"
"Marina," Mr Weasley interrupted, giving her a significant look. "Ollivander has been through a lot –"
"No manners," Muriel sniffed, shaking her head. Marina saw Fred surreptitiously nudge something underneath her seat with his toe with an extremely nonchalant expression on his face.
She pressed her lips together, but nodded and stood to return to her seat before hesitating. "Could… I ask one last question?"
Ollivander drew his eyes open with what looked like significant effort and looked up at her.
"Did they have a sword with them?"
He frowned again. "A sword?"
She nodded quickly.
"No," Ollivander said, looking confused. "Not that I saw."
Marina grit her teeth and nodded again, turning away. Charlie raised a brow at her quizzically and she shrugged.
"Marina."
She looked back in surprise. Ollivander was still staring at her, his misty eyes as bright as she'd ever seen them. "Have you seen Master Riddle since escaping?" he asked, his voice somehow both very soft and razor sharp.
Marina's stomach dropped, and the room turned tense. They had agreed to keep everything with Tom a secret from Muriel and Ollivander long beforehand, but as she looked into his eerie blue gaze, Marina was suddenly unsure if they would be able to conceal anything from him at all.
"No," she frowned, jaw still tense. "Have you?"
There was a loaded silence. "No," Ollivander said very quietly. "No, I have not. Perhaps you were wrong, after all."
"What do you mean?" she ground out.
"Perhaps He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does need an heir."
Marina rolled her eyes. "Yeah I'm sure he'll graciously hand over the Elder Wand when he decides to peacefully step down."
Ollivander's cup fell into its saucer. "You know of the Elder Wand?" he gasped, face stricken.
Whoops. "I – I meant –" she stammered.
"Well you better be getting back, Bill," Charlie said loudly, standing from the couch. "Fleur will be wondering what's taking you so long!"
"Come visit again soon though!" Mr Weasley shouted, leaping to his feet and seizing Bill by the shoulders. "Marina – will you help see Bill to the door?"
"That china has been in my family for generations," Muriel snarled at Ollivander, "I expect a modicum of civility for my hospitality –"
There was an explosion of red smoke from Muriel's chair and her hair promptly turned bright vermillion. Muriel began to shriek in rage and Fred winked at Marina conspiratorially as Mr Weasley carted her and Bill out the room and down the hall.
"You must be more careful, Marina," Mr Weasley breathed, away from the chaos.
"Sorry," she stuttered, "I didn't – I wasn't –"
Suddenly, Marina felt the coin Tom had given her grow warm in her pocket. She wrenched it out and stared at it. "Tom's back," she said blankly.
There was a pause.
"Well go on then!" Mr Weasley said hastily, waving her down the hall. "That Portkey will break the Fidelius Charm if the wrong person gets their hands on it!"
Marina nodded and bolted down the hallway past Bill and Mr Weasley, the coin held tightly in her hand. She made it out the front door and down the very Grimmauld Place style front path at lightning speed, and was through the gate and onto the street in seconds, ignoring as her socks soaked through with the evening rain in her rush to escape the bounds of the charm on Muriel's property. The streetlamp she raced past flickered and then the world was twisting, Riddle House appearing around her the next instant.
The dingy room was lit by candles in the old wall sconces, but they were only barely managing to keep away the darkness that seemed to permeate the very walls of the place. Tom looked up from where he was sitting on the settee, dressed in the plain black clothes she used to see him wear under his Death Eater robes. He stood quickly at the sight of her but she was already closing the distance between them.
"Where have you been?" Marina said breathlessly, throwing her arms around him and nearly sending them both tumbling backwards onto the settee.
"You do appreciate how difficult it is to deceive the Dark Lord and his closest circle of Death Eaters on a daily basis, don't you?" he said, sounding half-amused and half-censorious as he pulled back to look at her. "It's not exactly easy to –" Tom paused. "Is your hair pink?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
He stared at her.
"It'll fade soon," she waved her hand, "Anyway, are you alright? With the Elder wand, are things… worse?"
Tom's expression tightened, his arms around her going slightly stiff. "He has been rather preoccupied with testing out the capabilities of his new wand," he said quietly, gaze going somewhere behind her. A long and rather unnerving silence fell.
"Tom," Marina said in concern, placing a hand on his cheek.
His attention returned to her like she'd yanked him from some distant train of thought.
"Are you alright?" she repeated, frowning.
Tom paused for a long moment and then nodded slightly. In the ringing silence under his gaze, Marina suddenly felt like she'd skipped a stair.
He leaned in and kissed her, pulling her closer at the same time and she breathed deeply, amazed all over again at how ridiculously good he smelled, how warm his lips were against hers, how soft his hair was between her fingers.
But it wasn't enough. Marina stepped forward and pushed his chest lightly, and Tom fell onto the settee behind him. He looked up at her in slight confusion – but it melted away at once as she straddled him, his hands coming up to her hips as if unbidden as she placed her palms against his jaw and kissed him again. Tom's hands slid up her waist, pulling her flush against him, the warmth from his body saturating her own and making her sigh with how good it felt. An impossibly long, dizzying moment passed, and then they just barely pulled away. Marina stared at him, rather entranced.
"Hello," Tom said quietly, a small, slightly amused smile on his lips.
"Hi," she grinned.
He exhaled slowly, lifting his hand to her face where it lingered gently on her cheek. "You must know that I would come here more frequently if I could," he said thoughtfully, watching his palm brush her skin.
"I know."
"I don't think I'd ever leave, if I could," Tom continued, eyes suddenly meeting hers.
"What, stay here forever?" she asked teasingly, pushing her fingers through his hair.
He nodded, not looking half as facetious as her.
"No offence Tom, but I don't trust you to deal with anything eternal," Marina deadpanned, "you have a terrible track record with the concept."
His expression flickered with just barely muted amusement, settling into something bordering on devious that made her stomach twist. Tom leaned in slowly, kissing her again in a hot, dangerously confident way that had her feeling weightless. His fingers carded into her hair and held her to him, his tongue against her lips making her open them reflexively – his hand in her hair tightened at once, tilting her head as he kissed her more deeply, his other arm wrapping around her waist. When he broke the kiss she was breathing fast, staring at him in blank surprise.
"Would you deny me an eternity of this?" Tom murmured, fingers tracing back down her cheek so softly that shivers danced across her skin.
"Normally yes," she whispered, "but right now I'm…" she trailed off. Tom was pulling her towards his lips again, watching her closely.
"You're what?" he asked quietly, his arm around her waist pressing her in closer against him.
"I'm not sure… that I… could deny you anything," Marina breathed, her eyes at serious risk of falling shut as Tom brought her within a breath of his lips.
He hummed, cocking his head as if in thought. "Perhaps you might answer me a question, then."
She nodded.
"I've always wondered…" Tom said, eyes not leaving hers. "Why haven't you ever asked me how I made the Horcrux?"
Marina's eyes widened. She drew back, staring at him in shock. "…What?"
"Everyone else did," Tom said evenly, his hand falling from her cheek and settling on her hip. "Dumbledore, Moody, Lupin… Even McGonagall. But all this time, you've never asked me how I did it. Why not?"
She was flummoxed, battling to get out a coherent response. "Did you… tell them?"
Tom's gaze was as measured as it was unyielding. "No," he said smoothly, "and only Dumbledore ever pressed the point – though eventually even he accepted that if he wanted to know, he would have to read the very same book from which I had learned the answer myself."
Marina's thoughts spun. "I guess it… didn't really occur to me," she frowned, very taken aback.
Tom looked at her very sceptically. "It didn't occur to you," he repeated, not sounding convinced.
"What do you want me to say?" she shrugged. "I guess I assumed that if you wanted to tell me, you would."
"Does it disgust you?" he asked calmly.
Marina frowned. It was a very odd question. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly.
"Does what I've done disgust you?" he said again, the unrelenting presence of his gaze on her face taking on an almost unnerving quality. "Is that why you never asked?"
"Tom," she said sharply, returning her hands to his cheeks. "Stop it. Don't come up with your own worst case scenario reasons for my actions and superimpose them onto me, it's not fair. And in this case, it's also not true."
"Then why didn't you?" he breathed.
"I didn't even think to ask!" she exclaimed, dropping her hands. "I don't know why, it's just not – not important to me."
Tom scoffed. "I'm afraid I don't believe that you consider my past actions to be of little importance, Marina," he said coolly.
"Do you want me to be disgusted by you?" she asked, staring at him in disbelief. "Why won't you accept my answer?"
"Because you wouldn't be here with me if you knew!" Tom said loudly.
His words rang in Marina's head as they stared at each other. She recognised that frenetic fervour in his eyes, that same brittle intensity that sometimes reared its head in him.
"Do you want to tell me?" she asked quietly.
Tom was frozen, staring at her.
"You don't have to," Marina said carefully, "but you can if you want to."
He exhaled tensely, his eyes dropping from hers. "I do have to," he muttered through a clenched jaw.
"You don't –"
"I do," he interrupted sharply, glaring at her. "I've known it since Christmas Eve."
She frowned, waiting for him to speak again.
"It's not a spell," Tom finally said, voice quiet and stiff. "That is – there are spells involved, but really, it's a potion."
Her brows shot up in surprise but he carried on seemingly without noticing. "I won't bother listing the ingredients, you can surely imagine the calibre of materials required for such a thing," he said dismissively, looking away, "the ingredients aren't the worst of it." He paused again, something working in his jaw. "You have to do it yourself," he said quietly.
She frowned in confusion. "Do what?"
"Rip your soul out," he said flatly. "The potion is for your hands, it allows you to reach into your own body. You have to tear your soul out yourself."
Marina felt like she'd been submerged in cold, dark water.
"It screams," Tom said blankly.
Her head fell, unable to look at him.
"I didn't expect the screaming," he was saying in the same blank voice, almost to himself, "the pain, yes, but not the screaming. It was almost as if it was afraid, it kept resisting, and it took so long to…" he trailed off.
A nauseating void was carving out a hole in Marina's gut, but still Tom kept going.
"It surprised me how much force was required, I remember my arms were shaking at the effort," he said, looking down at his hands with empty eyes. "The potion was pitch black and thick… it was like submerging my hands oil, and it was everywhere, and there was blood, and…" he swallowed, pausing. "The pain was immeasurable," he said simply.
"How could you do that to yourself?" Marina said quietly.
Tom looked up at her like he was alarmed to find that she'd been listening. There was something in his expression that distinctly reminded her of the way he'd looked at her the first morning they'd spent together, something strikingly vulnerable. Something scared.
"Every single sign was telling you to stop…" she muttered, shaking her head. "How could you ignore them?"
"I was afraid," he whispered.
She sighed, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. "Of death."
"Yes."
"Aren't you afraid now?" she asked, lowering her hands. "Of dying?"
Tom was still staring at her. "Yes," he breathed.
"Would you do the same again?"
His expression turned slightly incredulous. "Of course I wouldn't."
"Then what was it?" Marina said challengingly, watching him with a hard feeling in her chest. "If the fear is the same, what's different?"
Tom's lips pressed together, his expression intense and his breathing slightly heavy. "I…"
"What's different?" she repeated hotly.
"I didn't care!" he said loudly, glaring at her again, "I knew that it was wrong! Every single step of it felt wrong and I didn't care because I wanted what it could give me! I knew that it would destroy me but I didn't care because it was worth it!"
They stared at each other, another ringing silence falling after his outburst.
Marina lightly shoved his shoulder. "And how did that work out, huh?"
Tom closed his eyes with a hollow laugh, his head dropping. "Your sense of appropriate comedic timing needs some serious work, Marina."
"You laughed, I'm off the hook," she smiled, taking his face and lifting him to look at her again. "And hey," she said gently, "now I know what you did, and I'm still here with you, so you were wrong about that, too."
"How could this not change your feelings?" he asked quietly, eyes flicking between hers.
"I already knew that you used to be a massive idiot, Tom," she said with the faintest jest in her voice.
A smile tugged at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. Marina sighed again, realising he'd need more. "Listen," she said quietly, leaning closer, "honestly… it really scares me, the things you've done."
Tom grew utterly still again, eyes fixed on her face.
"I can't even begin to imagine it," she continued, frowning, "and I'll never be okay with it. Not ever." She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "You asked me once if I liked you, do you remember that? On the train to Albania?"
He nodded at once.
"And I told you that I like lots about you but not your past?"
"Actually, you told me that you like parts of me," Tom said smoothly.
Marina paused, surprised at his correction.
"Trust me," he added dryly, seeing her expression, "I would remember if you had said that you liked a lot about me."
"Right," she said slowly, "well – my point is, being okay with what you've done in the past was never on the table, but I've always reserved the right to judge you based on what you do now."
"You would let it go?" Tom asked, watching her in that intense, unrelenting way again. "What I've done?"
"No," she frowned. His expression faltered and she swiftly lifted her hand. "Let me finish – I mean – no, because letting it go isn't possible, is it? Not with things like that… but… Tom, your worst mistakes don't make up your true essence. You've spent more time and considerably more effort fixing those mistakes than you did making them, after all, there are more important parts of you than your darkest moments," she said gently.
"Such as?" he asked, all low and quiet, and Marina fought back a shiver as something in his voice reverberated in her chest.
"How you make people feel," she said, looking down. "You should see Mrs Weasley's face when she talks about you – or how happy Charlie would get when you would come back to the Burrow – and I reckon Fred and George would love it if you could come to visit Muriel's, but maybe that's just because they're developing a new line of electric-shock quills and you're totally nerd enough for them to test them on you."
"And what about you?" Tom said softly.
Marina's face immediately felt hot, and his eyes roamed across her flushed cheeks with interest. "Me?" she managed to say.
He hummed, his hands on her hips tightening slightly as he leaned closer. Marina's pulse tripled. "How do I make you feel?" Tom murmured.
"I – well – today when that coin warmed up I was so excited to see you that I ran outside into the rain without shoes on," she said blithely. "Normally I'd rather cut a man down where he stands than have wet socks, so that should tell you quite a bit."
He huffed a laugh and tugged her towards him, arms closing around her in a very tight embrace. Marina wrapped her arms around his neck and took a deep breath, her eyes closing as she pressed her face against him. Come on, seriously? You can do better than that…
"I get homesick all the time," she mumbled, voice muffled by his shoulder. "Most of the time I don't even know why, there are so many holes in my memory that it's hard to know what's missing. But… there are two things that help," she forced out. "Watching the sunrise – that's why I like getting up early – it always feels so familiar and calm and bigger than me in a really reassuring way." Stop ranting about the fucking sunrise and get to the fucking point. Marina grit her teeth.
"And the second?" Tom prompted gently in the wake of her sudden silence.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Alright no backing out now, three, two, one…
"You."
Tom looked at her, but she didn't lift her face from his shoulder. Come on you emotionally reclusive idiot, just fucking say it.
"That's… how you make me feel," Marina got out with considerable effort. "Like I'm home."
Tom's hands were against her cheeks, lifting her face gently, his lips on hers the next second making her immediately forget what she'd been worrying about. "You say such things," Tom murmured, pushing back her hair. "Are you trying to make it impossible for me to leave?"
"Do you have to go soon?" she asked, alarmed.
He nodded, his other hand dropping to her thigh and making her heart thud hard in her chest again.
"How soon?" Marina said slowly.
Tom smirked slightly. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm trying to gage if I can manipulate you into staying longer," she smiled, playing with his collar teasingly.
"And how exactly," he said quietly as he leaned in, "do you intend on doing that?"
She pulled back a fraction, stopping him from kissing her at the last second. Tom's eyes flashed but Marina ignored him, her hands flattening on his shoulders and pushing him slowly, firmly back against the couch, watching as his expression shifted slightly with surprise. Marina took hold of the back of the couch behind him and leaned in herself, meeting his lips gently, feeling with pleasure as his hands moved from her hips to her waist, and then back to her thighs like he couldn't decide where to keep them.
His kiss grew harder, hungrier, and she was losing herself in it, Tom's hands roaming her body, taking hold of her shirt and drawing it up almost questioningly. Marina broke the kiss and lifted her arms to let him pull it up over her head, and Tom captured her lips again quickly as she buried her hands in his hair. His hands on her bare skin made her hesitate, pulling back to stare at him as his fingers traced down her back.
"How's the manipulation going?" she breathed as his hands lingered on the strap of her bra.
"Very well," he said smoothly, unclasping it easily. Marina shrugged it off and let it join her shirt discarded on the floor beside them. "You've quite destroyed my intention of going anywhere."
"Really?" she said hollowly as he pressed his lips to her collarbone, searing hot on her skin as they trailed downwards. "You're easier to manipulate than I thought you'd be."
"I'm not usually so compliant," he murmured as his lips moved lower. Marina's breath hitched. "But I must admit… I'm rather enjoying you manipulating me."
His hands were pressed firmly against her back which was very lucky since his lips were suddenly teasing her in such a way that was making it difficult to stay upright. Tom looked up at her with a wicked amusement. "The sounds you make," he said softly, lifting his head, "are downright sinful."
Marina – who hadn't even realised that she had been reacting rather loudly to his attentions – decided to bypass responding and pulled up his shirt instead, dropping it onto their growing pile of discarded clothing and kissing him hard. The feeling of his naked chest against hers made her sigh reflexively against his lips, and Tom's grip on her thighs tightened. Just as she started to get that same free-falling sensation, Tom pulled back.
"Marina," he said, looking down with a frown tugging at his brow.
"You're not seriously going to say you have to go now, are you?" she quipped a bit breathlessly.
He exhaled, sounding strained. "I have to go."
"You're joking," she groaned.
"I'm not," he said, half-smiling at her. "I'm sorry."
Marina gave a very melodramatic sigh "I need to get better at manipulating you."
"Your method is perfect," Tom smirked, "may I suggest starting sooner, next time."
"That's a team effort," she grinned.
Tom huffed a laugh, shaking his head.
"I should warn you," he said right before he was about to leave, and Marina turned to look at him, pulling her shirt down. "I will probably not be back for some time – the Dark Lord has noticed my absences and it grows harder to convince him that they're innocuous."
"How long is some time?" she frowned. "Another week?"
"Two, if not more."
Marina's blood froze. The Battle of Hogwarts was in ten days. If Tom didn't intend to come back for two weeks, then…
Suddenly realising that he was still talking to her, she forced her attention back to him. "Sorry what did you say?" she breathed.
He arched a brow. "I was reminding you that infrequent visits were to be expected from the very beginning."
Is this the last time I'm ever going to see him?
"Marina," Tom frowned, stepping forward slightly. "What's wrong?"
Realising that her eyes had slightly welled up (and angrily cursing her own body for its betrayal), she blinked furiously. "Nothing," she said firmly. "Two weeks is just… a long time."
"I know," Tom said slowly. His eyes had taken on a decidedly sharp edge as he looked at her, and much like with Ollivander, Marina realised that there was little hope of slipping much past him.
Say something.
Wait – don't say something. If you warn him he might not be able to focus and Voldemort will notice and figure something's up –
If you don't tell him, he's going to leave this fucking house not realising that you're never going to speak again –
Don't you dare tell him, you can still get to the Battle of Hogwarts, you still have time to figure something out –
How the fuck are you going to get to the Battle of Hogwarts! You're a fucking Muggle! Why the hell would they take you to the –
"Marina."
Tom's hands against her face wrenched her back to the present, and she stared at him, slightly taken by the sight. Would she have believed her eyes a year ago to see him with such an expression on his face? The concern in his eyes drawing his brows together, the attentive brush of his hand on her cheek as he assessed her, trying to figure out whatever was upsetting her? "Are you alright?" he asked, frown deepening.
Tell him – don't tell him – tell him – don't tell him –
"Yes," she whispered. "I – I just – don't like it when you're gone so long."
He nodded, not looking entirely convinced. "I know," he said again, very quietly, his thumb brushing across her very bitten lips. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," she said in a slightly quivering voice. Tell him – don't you fucking dare – what the fuck else am I supposed to do –
"I'll see you in two weeks, alright?" Tom said, tilting her up to look at him.
Heart pounding, Marina forced herself to meet his eyes. Tell him. "Tom," she said quietly, chest aching.
He frowned again. "Yes?"
She froze, whatever possible combination of words she could have said next catching in her throat.
'People die in wars, Marina –'
'You cannot help me this time –'
'Sometimes people don't make it even when you really want them to. Even when they're people you really care about –'
'We must not fall into the trap of trying to avoid anything unpleasant from happening, some things, no matter how difficult, must come to pass –'
'Neither can live while the other survives –'
"I'm going to miss you," Marina whispered.
Tom let out a long breath and drew her closer, kissing her very softly, and Marina forced down tears as she laced her arms around his neck, breathed him in, leaned into his addictive warmth for the last time –
Tell him.
Tom drew back, hands still gentle on her cheeks. "I'll miss you too," he said quietly.
Tell him that you love him.
The coin was warm in her pocket, and a breath fell from her that left her chest feeling hollow.
"I should go," Tom said, eyes still heavy on her face. "I've activated your Portkey."
Marina nodded, staring at him, heart hammering. Tell him that you love him. "Okay."
Tom's eyes flickered. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek, so gentle that her eyes fell shut and she felt like she'd been kicked in the gut. God tell him, tell him you love him.
"See you soon," he said, his hands falling from her face as he stepped back and drew his wand.
The coin was even warmer, and Marina's heart lurched as it struck her, that this was it, that there wasn't going to be another chance, that she should just fucking tell him! tell him that you love him! Of course you do you idiot! So TELL HIM THAT YOU LOVE HIM –
"Tom," she said quickly.
He paused right before Apparating, his brow creasing slightly as he met her gaze.
Marina swallowed hard. "I –"
The room twisted, and Tom was gone. Marina sank to her knees next to the flickering streetlamp, its light reflected in the dark mirror of the rain-drenched street. Cold seeped in around her at once, and she gasped breath after breath, a memory coming back to her from so long ago that it felt like a dream.
"If we move forward with this plan," Dumbledore was saying in the bright, airy Hogwarts Hospital Wing, "you must accept that in the case of failure… I am afraid I will have no other choice."
"I understand what you're saying," she had said, nothing but the faintest purple staining her cuticles, the stiff, slightly rough bedsheets beneath her, not knowing what was to come in the next year. "You'll destroy the Horcruxes if things go wrong." Like it was nothing. She'd said it like it was nothing, not knowing what it would mean –
"If you agree to the terms, we may proceed," Dumbledore had said.
She'd sighed, flippant and glib. "Sure."
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A/N: #angst
Thank you SO MUCH for your feedback on the last chapter, I DIE. You're the best, please never underestimate how much of an impact your reviews make. Honestly, I really, really appreciate it. Thank you so much.
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