Chapter 37: An Almost Mistake
The difference between greatness and mediocrity is how an individual views a mistake - Nelson Boswell
Tom still stared at Joelle's bruised skin. "Leave," he said out loud, glancing behind his shoulder. Lestrange and the rest of the crew walked out of the room, however, unable to hide their shocked expressions and curious faces. None of them were able to understand how Joelle could experience the same thing they have watched Dumbledore and Slughorn experiencing, resulting in loud arguing as soon as they were out of the door. Tom pulled Joelle closer, observing every inch of her body, as if he could not allow reality to be true.
"What was that thing...?!" Joelle asked with a panicked voice. Tom did not answer at first. Instead, he stared up the galaxy ceiling, thoughts flooding his sanity. "Nothing that will ever lay hands on you again."
Joelle glanced ahead at Tom with eyes widened at first - but they steadily narrowed. Out of a first impulse and intense wrath boiling in her, she raised her hand and tried to attack Tom, but he was fast enough to calmly catch her wrist. "Calm down."
"I'm tired! Tired of getting hurt because of you! You and your, your, ngh!" Joelle yelled and wiggled around, trying to pry Tom off of her, but his grasp around her wrist tightened so hard that it was impossible to break free. "I'm just tired!" Joelle repeated. Tom's gaze fell on her when she said that. He gently brushed some strands of hair behind her ear, then inhaled deeply. "I had planned leaving next week. Considering today's events, I will change my mind. We will be leaving now," he whispered, pulling Joelle up. "You are to never get out of my sight again."
Joelle did not answer, but judging by Tom's words, she was most assured that whatever had touched her in her dream had all the chances to touch her in reality. She watched how Tom waved his wand, not saying a single word. He controlled magic by his mere willpower and mind. Clothes flew into a bag, more than it should physically be able to fit in. How did he do that?
"Undetectable extension charm," said Tom softly. How did he always know what she was thinking of?
"Where are we going to go?" Joelle asked. Tom glanced at her, a slight grin crawling up his lips. "The whole wide world, my dear."
The wide world. Joelle felt like this was the right place to go. As soon as Tom was sure that he had picked up everything he needed, he grabbed Joelle's hand and apparated downstairs into the basement where the rest of the men were still waiting, engaged in heated debates. Joelle could only imagine it was about the recent events. Everything grew silent upon Tom's appearance and Joelle understood why. He carried a dark, severe, and mysterious aura. The men stood up.
"My lord," Avery started, "we have talked about what has happened and we-"
Tom raised his hand in order to stop Avery's voice; the latter fell silent.
"Joelle and I will be leaving. I don't wish to be called," Tom said sternly, glancing up Avery's arm. Joelle wondered why Tom did that, then shrugged it off, thinking it was because he expected Avery to lower his wand. On a second glimpse, Avery didn't even have his wand out. Before Joelle could spend any more thoughts on this, she was pulled away by Tom.
They landed in the middle of a breathtakingly beautiful region. Everything around them was just wide green hills, fascinating, in all shades of green that nature had. Joelle felt so tiny compared to the wide spread horizon that was around them, the orange sky was either greeting a good morning or good evening. The yellow sunlight lit up the air around them that carried the scent of warm and fresh grass. Joelle closed her eyes and was reminded of how beautiful life could be. She had almost forgotten.
"We are in Ireland," said Tom.
"Have you come here before?" Joelle asked. Tom nodded. "Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to apparate here. Witches and wizards can only apparate to places they've seen before or can vividly imagine."
"So, that means... if you imagined the Caribbean verrrry vividly...?" Joelle asked with a grin but Tom merely rubbed the back of her head, ruffling through her hair a little before he walked on over to a lonely cottage on top of a hill. It was rather small, but beheld everything that was needed to survive. A bed, several cupboards, a table and two chairs, and a door behind which Joelle expected to be the bathroom.
"We will barely be here, possibly just to sleep," said Tom as he put their bag into the closet, observing everything carefully before he turned around to Joelle. "You will see a lot of places. Some of them will be dangerous. No matter where we are, you must stay close to me. Speak only when I give you my permission."
Joelle crossed her arms when those information hit her ears.
"I'm serious," said Tom. Joelle said nothing. She turned away and walked around in the cottage, eyes falling out of a window. Her mind was flooded with ideas and fantasies of a better life - a life in which she was able to change things, change Tom. But the latter merely chuckled.
"Still dwelling in dreams?" He asked. Joelle knew exactly that he had a way to enter her thoughts.
"How do you do that? Is it that technique I didn't want you to learn years ago?" She asked. Tom stepped closer to her. "You remember."
"Of course I remember," said Joelle, almost offended. How could she forget anything that was about him?
"My thoughts are private," said Joelle firmly, trying to pick up her well known strictness that unfortunately these days did not work on Tom anymore.
"Not to me," whispered Tom swiftly, not even bothering to cover the fact that he delved into her very mind as he pleased.
"Did you also delve into that part you never want to hear? The part where I want to explain why I didn't want you to find me? The part-"
"We should eat something," said Tom with a firm tone that matched the topic he always avoided. Joelle bit her tongue, but did not hiss back. She had to constantly remind herself that she wanted to finally play along and try being kind to Tom, accept what he had for her - for maybe then she would understand, would be able to help everyone involved. But it was hard. Latest events reminded Joelle that it was very hard indeed.
"Could you please," she started, but got distracted watching Tom grabbing some food that looked fresh enough for Joelle to know that he had just recently come here and prepared everything, leaving her the question for how long he had actually planned all this. Sadly enough, she wouldn't have been surprised if the answer was somewhere in his childhood.
"Could I please what?" Tom urged, pressing Joelle's shoulder down to sit. Joelle sat at the table, glancing at how Tom put some strawberry jam on a slice of bread. As if nothing of what happened actually happened to him.
"Explain to me what that thing was, that thing in the basement, that hurt me," Joelle said again, trying to keep her cool posture, trying not to yell at Tom. Was it not obvious that she wanted answers, yes, deserved them? Tom, however, glanced to the opposite direction of the room. Whatever he thought of, it wasn't yet enough to tell Joelle what was going on. Her eyes went to the small mark on her skin. That thing. She glanced around, then sighed with a nod once Tom handed her the plate of bread and strawberry jam before making some for himself.
"The bed is rather small," said Joelle dryly as her eyes were fixed on it. Tom raised an eyebrow with a glint, smirking only lightly. "I'm sure we will be able to cope with that, my dear." He bit into the bread.
"My dear," Joelle imitated Tom's charming voice in a higher pitch. "You never cared much about the formalities of our time, Mr. Riddle. Haven't been a gentleman much." Joelle started to eat.
"You never cared much about being a lady yourself," said Tom with a slight grin. Joelle huffed, looking away.
"I remember the hats you've been wearing all the time. And as soon as you entered he orphanage you took them off." Tom played with the tablecloth, folding the corner up and down as he spoke softly. He was done eating.
"I hated those things," Joelle admitted. "Hats, I mean. Sure, I've been wearing them. But that was just for the outer world. There are no silly hats in my inner world," she shook her head.
"Then why adapt?" Tom asked. "You've never been shy to state what's on your mind."
"Oh, I found that hats helped me go undercover when John was looking for me. I would've been sticking out too much without wearing one. They protected me. Maybe that's why I have a love-hate relationship with them."
Tom observed Joelle carefully when she finished her last line. But his eyes narrowed upon a thought. "John," he repeated darkly.
"He's still in prison," said Joelle. "There is no need to grudge-"
"After all he has done, you don't hold a grudge against him?"
"It's almost ironic hearing this question from you, Marvolo," Joelle stared into Tom's eyes deeply after asking this with a very clear and firm tone. Tom stared back, breathing softly and controlled, but said no more.
"You said that we need to train my magical signature," Joelle started after finally dragging her eyes away from Tom's.
"Yes."
"How do you know when it's enough?" She asked. Tom chuckled. "Enough, she says. Magic has no limit. Power has no limit."
"Good lord, you know what I mean, just answer my question."
"You ask the wrong way. How I know it's enough? When do you finally not have to learn anything about magic anymore?" Tom asked, his tone was sour now. "Magic is a privilege."
"It never has been to me, unfortunately," said Joelle bitterly. "One of us didn't accept that. Want to know what's funny? It wasn't me who didn't."
Tom narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. "You make me angry," he said honestly. "You and your wish to live an ordinary life."
"Is that the moment I have to say sorry?" Joelle snapped, crossing her arms.
"I feel sorry enough for the two of us," said Tom with a dry comeback. Joelle looked at him surprised, but couldn't help being amused. Her mouth pursed, and Tom too, grinned. This was the first time after a very long while they laughed together for no apparent reason other than their mere unlikely existence that they shared here and now.
"Marvolo...what happened to Sylus Farley back then?" Joelle suddenly asked. Tom's mouth thinned on an instant, he had a quirk to somewhat pucker his lips or bite his tongue while his nostrils flared.
"He's alive, I suppose," Tom said. "I did not kill our beloved prefect from back in the days," he said with enough acid for Joelle to know that this topic was done and dealt with forever. But Joelle thought about this. She had run away, believing Tom killed Sylus - had gone to Dumbledore - never saw Tom again for so many years for a death that did not happen. And now she was laughing with the very man who had coldly murdered so many people, and along with that murdered the only part of what was left of a beautiful childhood. Joelle closed her eyes. She tried to push these things away, tried to preserve the only person that Tom had not yet eliminated.
"What kind of thoughts am I competing with?" Tom asked. "Or rather...whom?" He sipped on his tea. Just the simple way he held his cup and eyed her gave Joelle goosebumps. He had to always watch her.
"Nothing, nobody," said Joelle, jumping at the sound the cup made once it was put back down.
"Lies," smiled Tom, inhaling deeply. "Haven't l told you that I don't wish to be lied to?" He asked. Joelle cleared her throat, nodding back. Out of nowhere, Tom slammed the palm of his hand onto the table's surface loudly. "Then why are you doing it!" He yelled.
Joelle sat in her seat stiffly, her lips parted, eyes widened. Even though she has just reminded herself of how murderous Tom could be, she had forgotten how unpredictable, too.
"Look at me," said Tom with a softer whisper that didn't match the whole situation. It made Joelle even more nervous.
"You are what's real. I can't allow you lie to me," he explained with an angry tremble in his tone. "So I will ask again. Who is taking your attention from me?"
"I am sure that by asking this you already know," said Joelle. "It's like you want to be angry."
Tom rested back in his chair. "Bryan, hm?" He asked, chuckling. "I could make you forget about him. If I truly wanted."
"You do truly want to," said Joelle. Tom raised his chin when Joelle spoke along. She had found confidence somewhere. "But he's the only reason why I'm being that slight bit of cooperative. Yes, Marvolo, you depend on Bryan. If I didn't have him, I would have no motivation to stay with you at all."
Tom's mouth was the thinnest of all thin mouths Joelle has ever seen. She had often seen Martha's mouth thinning out when she was, again, too troubled by the children at the orphanage. But it was nothing compared to Tom's expression. His eyes flickered red for the split of a second.
"I...Depend...on Bryan Lessing...?" He asked breathlessly, his fists clutched onto the sites of his chair. He gritted his teeth. Tom Marvolo Riddle depended on nobody. "You can't possibly be thinking such NONSENSE!" He yelled, shooting up from his chair, now slamming both of his arms onto the table after throwing the plates away with a swift move. He drew his torso closer to Joelle, whom pressed herself back to the chair as much as possible.
"Don't test my capability and will to take everything from you," he whispered hatefully against her bottom lip. "Because I have the conscience to do exactly that."
"You have no conscience," Joelle hissed back quietly with narrowed eyes. Tom mirrored this action before he grabbed the back of her head, ripped her off of the chair and threw her onto the bed next to the table. Just before Joelle could jump back up, Tom was already on top of her, pinning her down with angry kisses, feeling up her struggling self below him. His hand roamed around his prey, he started to rip open parts of Joelle's clothes. He was possessed, heard no more, heard nothing. But he heard a name.
"MARVOLO!" Joelle yelped under hysterical tears. "You wouldn't! You're NOT like him!"
Tom stopped. He stared at Joelle, into her eyes. He looked around, then to her thighs, saw the loose pieces of fabric, saw her trembling body, saw the fear in her eyes - and that slight bit of innocence he found fascinating ever since he met her as a child. You're not like him.
Joelle was right. Tom was not like John. Tom did not have to resolve to this. He was so much better than that. He inhaled deeply, taking in Joelle's scent, then got up and waved his wand. Both Joelle and Tom watched how her clothes magically mended back together, but none of them said a single word during this. After a good while, Tom rested back down and pulled Joelle closer, looking at her. And she looked back.
"I have a surprise for you tomorrow," Tom said gently before kissing her forehead, whispering against it. "You will be the happiest person."
