I know it's been a while, but college and writers' block happens. But fear not! The latter has been vanquished, and a new chapter awaits us!
Bridal carries are hard, but he knows that already.
This is the second time Tom is carrying an unconscious Kate Summers in his arms, and he lays the girl down on the sofa before drying himself. Her skin is feverish, so Tom waits for two hours or so before shaking her shoulders, a hand supporting her as he gets her to sit.
"Here?"
"What have you done to yourself?" He looks around, but there are no signs indicating that he is back. "Kate, where is your father?"
"Why are you here?" They are locked in a silent battle of wills, but fighting a weak and near-ill girl is a useless victory, so he gives in.
"I need to stay here for a few days, and I need to speak to your father." She laughs bitterly, eyes watering up, and he now has a very concrete idea of what has happened.
"Taking my father's permission is a matter of the past now, Riddle." Her voice hitches at the end and she breaks down, body shaking as she cries. He wraps his arms around her shoulders as he kneels by the sofa, stroking her tangled hair as he presses his face against it. Tom doesn't remember the loss of a family member - the ones that died were hardly fit to call 'family' in civil company, and he has not encountered anyone who is fit to be bestowed this title.
He has been kneeling on the carpet for over 40 minutes and frankly, his knees hurt, so he now lifts her face, rubbing his hand across her cheeks. "I understand." Tears mix with rainwater when he kisses her, and Kate clings to him like she is drowning, pulling him onto the sofa.
"It's so unfair," she rambles into his shirt, the two a jumble of arms and legs. "But I shouldn't be complaining, most of all to you."
"Believe me, losing a parent after knowing them is far worse a fate than never knowing them at all." With time, the tears slow down and she falls asleep with hiccuping breaths and arms wrapped around his torso. As the day's events catch up with him, Tom too drifts off to the sound of thunder and rain, flicking the curtains shut before he does so.
The sofa's never been more comfortable.
When Kate wakes up, her head rests on something much more cottony and soft than the prickly fabric of the sofa, and her arms are wrapped around something much thicker and muscular than a diwan cushion. A quick tilt of the head tells her that that no, last night wasn't a dream and that yes, Tom is indeed there.
She tries to leave, but she doesn't wish to risking waking him up. Nevertheless, the movement so far wakes him, and Tom's dark eyes look upon her in concern, arms shifting to hold her own. "Better?"
She nods jerkily, releasing herself from the jumble of limbs that they are and heads upstairs to the washroom, splashing water over her tear-stained face. Once she looks closer to normalcy and sanity, she descends the creaky staircase and heads towards the living room. "The guest room is yours to stay in. First door from the right." He nods, flicking his wand towards the trunks, which float upwards to the now-open door. "Breakfast?"
"I'll look after that," he calls back, quickly changing into a fresh pair of clothes, leaving his shirt untucked.
He's in the washroom when the sound of sizzling reaches his ears, and he goes down the stairs with his toothbrush jammed in his mouth, arriving to her juggling salt, pepper and pans. Kate laughs a little at the sight and points upstairs, shaking her head. "I'll manage," she mouths at him, and he heads back, completing the essential daily ritual.
He has never been around grieving humans before, so observing one and understanding their behaviour is an interesting opportunity that presents himself. Besides, if he intends to stay here a lot longer than a few days, he will need to cooperate with the head of the household.
"The elves would be quite envious," he whispers in her ear, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck as he watches her finish.
"My father loves this." Kate stops short, and he turns her around. "I suppose it will take some time getting used to." He turns the stove knob, pulling her into an embrace as the tears begin again. Unlike expectations, the emotions aren't as strong as before, and it only takes her two minutes or so to compose herself, returning to plating the food.
They eat in silence and halfway through the activity, he takes her unoccupied hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She shoots him a weak smile before returning to eating, faster than before.
"I'll wash the dishes - acquaint yourself with the house." He takes the mute invitation to leave and heads upstairs, entering the door next to his room.
The room is cluttered and quite messy, but there is some semblance of order that depends more on the use of the objects than plain cleanliness. Books, papers and magazines take up most of the space, followed by various odds and ends. He picks up a copy of Transfiguration Today off the floor, the edition delving deeper into the concept of Animagi and development of the process till modern day.
There are Muggle artifacts too - notebooks and pens and a typewriter that sits dusty. The keys click well, and the machine looks in shape but old, so he wagers that she uses it well and often. The Muggle titles include mostly Shakespeare, but there are copies of Ulysses and Gatsby too.
"Like what you see?"
"It is a trove of beautiful memories," he replies with a genuine smile. There is a pang of jealousy and pain at the wholeness of the place - another thing I could never have, but he cannot bring himself to be openly spiteful, given that heartbroken face and the fact that he still needs a place to stay.
"Memories are all you'll be left with," she mutters before leaving with a handful of books, and he shuts the door as he follows.
Days pass like this, and evening descends upon the house as he arranges (now) his room. Kate busies herself with mindless tasks for sheer distraction, and dinner passes in the same quiet as breakfast and lunch. They bid goodnight, Kate burrowing herself under the covers in her parents' bedroom.
"Tom?" He turns to the direction of her voice, watching her head pop up from under the covers, eyes pleading. A silent understanding passes between them, and he closes the door behind him as he slips under the covers, running his fingers through her hair.
"I'll be here for as long as you need me."
"Don't leave - at least not tonight." The desperation in her voice makes him smile a little inside - good to know I'll be here as long as I want - and he gently kisses her forehead, a hand placed reassuringly on the small of her back.
"Whatever you ask for."
And that is a promise I intend to keep for both our sakes.
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