Chapter 39: For Laughs
"Sometimes crying or laughing are the only options left. And laughing feels better right now." Veronica Roth in: Divergent.
Tom and Joelle were still gliding on the water in the gondola. The moonlight now shone down on them, the starry sky revealed all its beauty, but it wasn't until fireflies ahead of them that Joelle felt shivers throughout her body. Despite this being a terrestrial phenomenon, the air felt enchanted, a moment too beautiful to be anything else but magic.
Tom observed Joelle curiously, his sharp gaze not allowing her to move out of his attention, but that was when the mysterious purple fog stopped circling around them, only to form into a ball that steadily grew wider and physical, until it was a floating black lantern that lit up. Tom grabbed it, and soon they arrived at the shore. It wasn't a port like the one at the train station, it was tiny and a bit sandy, ahead of them was a dark forest. The whole scene seemed absurd to Joelle, but Tom indeed planned on this being their destination. Tom helped Joelle out of the rocking gondola that started moving backwards as soon as they were out, silvery nebula swallowing it. And then it was gone. It was just Tom and Joelle now, them and the darkness that was interrupted by the moonlight and the lantern that Tom held to light the way.
"Come," said Tom while taking Joelle's hand. He began to lead the way.
"I don't want to go through that forest," Joelle whispered, instinctively pressing herself closer to Tom who just glanced at her. "There's no need to be afraid."
"I'm not so sure about that," Joelle frowned. "Those sounds are scary."
"It's just the howling of the wind," said Tom, walking on. Joelle scowled at him, how could he be so fearless all the time?
"You are a witch. And I am a wizard. We are so much better than whatever awaits us in that forest. Keep that in mind. Nothing can harm us," said Tom. The air was a bit chilly, but not enough to be unbearable. Not knowing where they were headed was worse.
"Death can harm us," Joelle suddenly spoke. "I don't think death makes a difference between anyone. Death welcomes us all the same."
"Death welcomes those too weak to conquer it. It won't even knock on our door, for it'll remain closed," Tom looked at her.
"What if death finds a key?"
"Then I shall find another lock."
Silence.
Joelle and Tom kept on walking for about half an hour before something in the distance came into sight. It was an old half-timbered house, Joelle guessed that it was an inn or a motel. Whatever it was, Joelle guessed that that's where they would stay for a while.
"Didn't you say that we will return to that cottage in Ireland?" Joelle asked. Tom glanced down to her, but he did not respond. He walked ahead and opened the rusty door that creaked loudly. The house was dark inside, no lights, the place seemed to be abandoned. It smelled old and woody, dust flew up with each step they took. It was a strange thing to be here. Tom walked on ahead, over to what looked like a bigger door, decorated with a golden lock. Just when Joelle was about to ask what was going on, Tom pulled out his wand and said. "Alohomora."
The lock dissolved into nothingness. Tom pushed the door open, and the first thing that Joelle did was pressing the side of her hand to her forehead to cover her eyes, for bright orange light was almost blinding her. Her eyes twinkled. People dressed in the same type of clothing she has seen those years ago were walking happily along what looked like a market street. The ground was bricked and brown and all orange due to floating paper lanterns; a feeling of coziness invaded Joelle's body. It was beautiful. Despite it being late in the evening, the place was rather crowded, Joelle couldn't help herself but to stare for a while, but it wasn't until she glanced up to Tom that she noticed him watching her intensively as well, possibly been doing that the moment they stepped in the world of venetian magic.
"It looks enchanting," Joelle whispered. Tom nodded, glancing ahead for but a moment, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder and walked along.
"Tell me, tell me already. Why are we here?" Joelle asked. Tom shook his head at her. "You're so impatient."
"You would be!"
"But I am not."
Joelle crossed her arms, looking away to make a point, but she smiled brightly when they passed by a tall man with a red cloak and a red hat, offering a skewer to her. It was full of something that looked like little chocolates. The man said something in Italian that Joelle did not understand, but her smile seemed to satisfy the wizard enough. He took off his hat and bowed from the far distance while Joelle looked at the candy in her hand, eyes twinkling with joy. Tom was about to rip the skewer out of her hand, but being too slow he just scowled when he watched Joelle stuffing whatever chocolate it was right into her mouth. And then Joelle yelped. Tom had to stop abruptly when tears shot out of her eyes and she spit the chocolate out in a more secluded alley.
"Silly girl!" Tom scolded when Joelle cried, spitting out the rest of the chocolate.
"What is it, where does it hurt?!" Tom hissed, but Joelle was too busy crying, something must've caused her an immense amount of pain; needless to say that it came from the candy she had just received. Tom stood there, watching Joelle as she tried to catch her breath, leaning against the wall in exhaustion.
"You're like a child. You can't just put things into your mouth that people give you on the streets," Tom said, standing right in front of her. Joelle looked up to him with round and glossy eyes, then down to the sprawled out chocolates. Tom sighed. Joelle could sometimes be so naive it wasn't even pleasant. He grabbed her hand and walked off, seeing how Joelle eyed up the skewer on the ground as if she expected it to jump up and attack. Tom chuckled to himself; it was a silent and content vibration coming from the back of his throat upon the thought of he being the one teaching Joelle just the same she did when he was younger.
"We are going to stay here for a few days and learn more about magic," Tom said. "I have a surprise for you. It's going to take place tomorrow evening. For now we are going to a hotel."
"Oh, a hotel," Joelle frowned. "Quite Fancy for someone who doesn't have a job, how do you pay that?"
"Don't worry yourself over money," said Tom, pulling Joelle closer when they passed by yet another man handing out chocolate skewers to people. "Everything is taken care of," he whispered, then pointed ahead to a large and beautiful cream colored facility decorated with white pilasters and a generous entrance. Joelle frowned, but Tom smugly ignored her expression of surprise. Before they walked in, however, Tom stood in front of Joelle, adjusting her hat. He still had to make sure that nobody would recognize her too easily.
"Don't talk," he murmured. Joelle didn't nod, she didn't believe it was necessary since Tom has already taken her hand, a charming smile embellishing his face as he walked inside and over to the dark haired female receptionist. She was rather young, around Joelle's age, and she responded with the same bright smile, only hers didn't seem to be fake. Joelle glanced around again. The interior was all champaign colored and decorated with a marbled floor, a large comfortable but forbiddingly expensive looking couch with golden feet and shiny round cushions was to her right, large creamy curtains and shiny vases and sparkling accents were spread around everywhere.
"I would like to check in with my wife, I called a couple of days ago. The name is Black," Tom said. The receptionist's bright smile seemed a little less at the sound of Tom being married, and even Joelle couldn't help but frown herself. Not only was the thought of being married to Tom absurd, but Tom also seems to use Black's name in order to travel. Perhaps Tom even had access to their money. Joelle overheard years ago that Black came from a wealthy family.
"Yes, of course, Mr. Black," said the woman more professionally than before. "Your room is ready. Enjoy your honeymoon," she smiled and handed over two golden keys. This time her smile was fake, and she threw Joelle somewhat of a sour look. And Joelle responded to it just the same.
Venice. Honeymoon.
"So, darling," Joelle raised an eyebrow, linking her arm with Tom's as they walked upstairs. "I must've missed the ceremony, but did I say yes, I do?"
"You did," said Tom emotionlessly. "I took a shortcut."
"You take a lot of shortcuts," Joelle mumbled under her breath, her eyes glancing to the round lights at the edges of the floor.
"So, when will he be here?" Joelle asked.
Tom looked at her.
"Black, of course. Were you his best man? I'm sure he was so happy when I became Mrs. Black."
Tom glanced at Joelle, his mouth didn't twitch, but she could tell that he wasn't very amused about the perspective of sharing her. He stopped walking, and just when Joelle was sure that he would do something to her, he turned to the door and unlocked it.
"Ladies first," he murmured. Joelle grinned and stepped inside. The room was too much. A white carpet was spread on the floor, a wide bed with generous and fancy covers and lots of pillows was sitting against the wall to their right, the tall arched window front with the creamy curtains and gold threaded tassels was right to their eyes view. Two red roses were spread on the bed; a bottle of champaign with a red ribbon around it and a card, as Joelle read once she stepped over, read "congratulations, enjoy your stay,". Joelle's coat hung halfway across her shoulders on her elbows, she was too perplex to take it off completely, but Tom was already behind her, gently pulling it from her body. The sudden warmth and closeness behind her caused her to shiver, resulting in walking away from Tom. She put her hat down, then stepped over to the tall window front. Her eyes swept over to the crowded street below them, the orange paper lanterns floating around. Joelle shook her head and smiled to herself in disbelief. The world was such a crazy place.
"It's late, Joelle. Let's sleep," Tom interrupted. Something about his tone was odd, and Joelle wondered if it had something to do with her comment about Black earlier. She turned around and frowned when she realized that she had to dress into her nightwear first. Tom seemed to wait on that, he was already sitting on the edge of the bed with his bare chest, a light grin creeping up his lips. He leaned further back with his arms outstretched behind, supporting his weight. Joelle narrowed her eyes when Tom waved his wand and the curtains closed. They fixed each other with their gazes. A few more seconds passed. Now it was just them and the dim orange light somewhere in the back of the room reflecting on Joelle's naked skin as she slowly began to strip off with something like confidence. Joelle was almost provokingly looking into Tom's eyes that took every bit of herself in, lips slightly parted. They both stared at each other, and Joelle was sure that this moment, right here, right now, was the most intense they have ever had.
Joelle laid down after putting on her nightgown, turning her back on Tom, whom she felt scooting closer to her from behind.
"Such intensity, yet she throws me away like nothing," he purred. Joelle glanced over her shoulder, shuddering when Tom's warm breath hit the nape of her neck. His hand rested on her stomach.
"What are you doing..." Joelle asked rhetorically as he began to circle his thumb around.
"Remember, it's our honeymoon..." Tom purred.
"I am married to Mr. Black. Last time I checked, you are Mr. Riddle,"
"Are you sure? Perhaps you should ask the receptionist to check again," Tom whispered with an audible smirk to his voice.
"That woman wouldn't have cared what your name is."
"Now, now..." Tom chuckled, pulling Joelle's shoulder towards him so that she had no other choice but to turn around as he instantly sneaked his hand under her, pulling her into his arms. "You won't tell me you're jealous, will you?"
"I won't," Joelle huffed, her eyes swept up to an amused Tom. "I am not," she emphasized," jealous."
Tom grinned.
"Stop it, Marvolo. You're being ridiculous," Joelle hissed. Tom chuckled, kissed her forehead, then rested his chin on the crown of her head, closing his eyes. He held her tightly to his body, the orange light slowly dying out. "Good night."
"I am not jealous."
"Good night, Joelle."
The next morning was quite pleasant. The sun shone through the curtains and lit up the room, but it was the scent of oranges that woke Joelle up. When she opened her eyes, Tom was sitting at the table with the recent newspapers as she guessed, tilting them over to see that Joelle was up.
"Joelle, dear. Come and have breakfast," he said. Joelle instantly noticed how he sounded like he had a great morning. Joelle got up, noticing how warm the room felt despite it having been quite chilly yesterday night. She sat down at the table that was filled with all kinds of things to eat. Tom's plate was empty; he hasn't yet started. A knock on the door caused both of them to glance over, Tom folded his newspapers back and put them aside. Joelle frowned when she noticed it was written in Italian and she made a mental note to ask if he knew the language, but instantly forgot about that when she heard a voice she has heard before.
"Here, Mr. Black. I personally made sure the waffles are warm this time," smiled a woman. It was the receptionist from yesterday night.
"Thank you, Patricia," said Tom, smiling gently before closing the door.
"Patricia," Joelle repeated with a raised eyebrow. "A receptionist who's also serving food. One would guess a rich hotel like this has enough staff to pay."
Tom smirked as he sipped on his hot coffee. And Joelle scowled at herself. No, she wasn't jealous, she just didn't like that woman. And it was okay not to like people, for no apparent reason, wasn't it?
Joelle growled to herself. No, it was not okay, and she was frustrated with herself. She was weak. Perhaps, yes, she began to become insane. Tom was the only person she truly communicated with, her only source of interaction, was it not human to be scared of being stripped off of that? When exactly has she become so dependent on Tom? She didn't know. But she knew she would stop it, if only she knew how.
"Eat," said Tom. And Joelle shook her head, letting the bubble of thoughts explode, then started to eat.
"If she's also the cook, we should tell her that it tastes quite good," Joelle said. Tom looked at Joelle in silence, they stared at each other for a while, and together they couldn't help but laugh.
