The Thing About Love
A/N:
Oni: Happy Valentine's Day! I fought to get the chapter uploaded today since, well, Love's the theme!
Myrtle: And the update came out in less than a year this time!
Tom: *throws sentient confetti*
Oni: I hope y'all have a wonderful day whether you are single, taken, or mentally dating a fictional character!
Lestrange: Oni does not own Harry Potter, but this train wreck of a crackfic is indeed hers.
Oni: Aaaand ONWARDS!
Aaaah! Love is in the air!
Birds are singing, the sun is shining, people are receiving gifts of dying plants and boxes of cheap chocolate while serenades of love songs play in the background…
…Eugh, really sticking it to all the singles, aren't they? Luckily romantic love isn't the only type of love that exists! In fact, the Greeks had different words for different kinds of love.
There's Eros, which is the type of love that oft-times ends in the creation of children (even by accident). Philautia, the love of the self (no, that's not when you make kissy faces in the mirror, or is it?). Philia, which is a type of camaraderie that forms between people — like a platonic love. There's Storge, which is the love between parent and child. Ludus, the fleeting, playful love that passes like ships in the night amongst strangers that don't always become friends. And Agape is the love for everyone as a whole — empathy, charity, wanting to make the world a better place for the sake of its inhabitants.
This is all combined into one word of "Love", which really makes things confusing. In modern days, we like to play around with the term "True Love's First Kiss" used in fairytales. The love of a sister, a mother, a child, a friend. Are they not valid loves as well?
And the entire spectrum of feeling and emotion is not so easily placed in little boxes, perhaps we learn later that what we thought was "Eros" was more "Ludus" or even "Philia", or the feeling could hop from one to another like rabbits in springtime. Or perhaps they like to sit at the fence, confusing the individual feeling those feelings.
No wonder the Love Room confuses the hell out of the poor sods at the Department of Mysteries. Some things are best left in their mysterious ways.
Harry Potter was surrounded by love the day he conquered the Dark Lord. Love of family. Of friends. Comrades in arms. The living and the dead. The Storge of Narcissa to her son, the Philia of those who fought and died by his side. The Agape of those who thought of more than just themselves.
In contrast, Lord Voldemort had nothing. He hated and was hated by all. Nothing he did was for the benefit of anything of himself. He was denied Storge by his own mother, perhaps cheated out of Eros by the Amortentia. He found no reason to form Philia, for to him fear was a more powerful form of control. Denied Agape with an intense hatred for everyone, including himself. His blood, his face, even his name.
The Power the Dark Lord Knows Not, indeed.
But! We are not here for canonMort, no no. We're here for sweet little Tom who's learning to navigate Love in all its various forms. Even if they don't always make sense to him.
Like all of us do, day to day.
It is said that when you cut off the head of a hydra, two more take its place.
Last year, he had to deal with Professor Slughorn following him around everywhere, trying to get him to come to his Slug Club parties. At first he'd written that lovely essay with undertones of why the man was showcasing an unhealthy obsession with an underage boy, which worked wonders. Then Professor Dumbledore requested he go to one of these parties. And he did! But now?
Dolores Umbridge was stalking him.
Of that Tom was certain. He didn't care if people thought she was following him around as a fellow Prefect. Or if she hid behind excuses of needing his assistance or not wanting to get close to him (depending on the day). It was very confusing, but Tom infinitely preferred it when she stayed away from him as if he were diseased.
The same thing had begun happening with a number of students that had begun to follow him around and avoid his gaze when he looked in their direction, but the toad had been the worst of them all. Serendipitus Lovegood had stated that many Nargles whizzed around her, and had gifted Tom a necklace of butterbeer corks to ward her away. Tom wore them religiously, wanting to ward off Umbridge and her Nargles in any way he could. Though he did ask Seren about the Nargles whilst doing so and he'd been impressed with how much the 5th year prefect knew about them. Myrtle was less impressed with him, for some reason.
On a completely separate note, it was around this time that butterbeer cork necklaces suddenly became a fashion trend. Butterbeer was flying off the shelves in unprecedented amounts unseen since the day alcohol became legal again. Galleons fell into Filius' hands as Tom Riddle continued his walk of complete and utter ignorance.
The second head was Olive Hornby, who also couldn't decide if she wanted to bully him or attempt odd bouts of niceties. These bouts were oft overshadowed by the fact that she would immediately turn around and bully Myrtle whenever such things happened. Neither Tom nor Myrtle understood what was going on in that girl's head, but it was unanimously agreed upon that avoiding her was the best idea.
The third head of the Hydra came in the form of Walburga Black, who was another Slytherin girl in his year. She skulked the halls wherever he went, accosting him at random hallways and only retreating with a hiss when Myrtle or someone else hexed her back (they learned quickly that Tom hexing her would somehow be considered flirting). The problem was that Walburga didn't like Tom. Walburga didn't even love Tom.
Walburga Black was completely and utterly obsessed with Tom Riddle.
Navigating his classes became infinitely harder with those two around, though luckily his friends usually formed some kind of protective barrier around him (even if only one or two accompanied him, he had gotten used to it by now). What was worse was that he had to deal with them in certain classes (like Potions, and Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts which was surprisingly full…) and had begun to pair with Lestrange or Abraxas if the Musketeers weren't available to do so. Lestrange wasn't the brightest, but Abraxas did this weird thing where he refused to look at Tom sometimes and that was counterproductive when they were supposed to be practicing dueling against each other.
Whilst avoiding Walburga and Dolores, Tom ended up running into fellow members of his house trying to avoid the duo. One was Lucretia Black, who unfortunately was in the same dorm as the nasty bints (and really should have gone into Gryffindor if Abraxas was to be believed) and the other was her little brother Orion, who gripped his wand as if it were a lifeline whenever Walburga came into view.
After a mutual agreement regarding 'strength in numbers' and 'no I did not seduce everyone in my friend group to make a giant harem why is that even a rumor', Lucretia and Orion joined Tom's group-of-friends-who-are-not-in-a-harem.
"Okay, but we need a name because apparently everyone's got the idea that I've seduced everyone and have been calling you all my harem and." Tom grumbled out at dinner, where they all sat at the end of the Slytherin table, side-eying the two crazy women who were being held at bay by the sheer amount of people between him and them.
Abraxas choked on his pumpkin juice. Lestrange thumped him on the back.
"And this is a bad thing why?" Minnie asked with a laugh.
"Because I didn't seduce anyone!" Tom screeched out, stabbing his fork into the poor, innocent table.
For some reason, there was a sudden bout of sickness as people around him started coughing together with quite a few red faces. He didn't think the weather had been that nippy. Once it calmed down, it was Fil who piped up.
"What about Tom's Troupe? It's alliterative."
"Why does it have to be 'my' anything?" Tom grumbled to his first and oldest friend, "You're all friends with each other as well. Why can't it be 'Filius' Friends'? That's alliterative, too!"
"Minerva's Mercenaries!" Minnie crowed out, her lilt strong and proud.
"Pomona's Posies!" Mona shouted out triumphantly, hoisting her string beans in the air.
"Myrtle's Minions!" Myrtle cackled out like a mad scientist.
"Rubeus' Rumblers?" Rubeus offered to keep the joke going.
"Lestrange's Légionnaires?" Lestrange offered, being the one next to Rubeus, using a more French-style of pronouncing it.
"Okay, but now I'm really curious." Orion Black, who practically hid behind his older sister as he spoke, piped up finally, "Why does everyone just call you 'Lestrange'? Everyone else is on a first-name basis."
Silence befell the other Slytherins and fellow sixth-years. They looked to one another with varying expressions of confusion, understanding, and constipation. Lestrange seemed perturbed.
"My mother was a Black." He stated.
"What's that got to do with anything?" Myrtle asked curiously.
"She also failed Astronomy." Lestrange added.
"That doesn't explain things!" The Ravenclaw fifth year who stopped wearing pigtails grumbled, though Orion and Lucretia had gained expressions of dawning comprehension.
"For the record, she thought it was pronounced 'Beh-tell-gwee'. French-like, yanno?" Lestrange explained as those around him began to giggle uncontrollably.
"Beh-tell-gwee?" Myrtle mouthed to Tom, who was doing his very best to keep a straight face along the other Slytherins.
"Betelgeuse." the sixth year Slytherin prefect who'd known since his first day at Hogwarts stated, lips pressed into a thin line.
"Your name is Beetlejuice?!"
"Yeah, I'll stick with Lestrange, thanks." Lestrange muttered under his breath.
The box of chocolates lay innocuously on Tom's bed. He was unsure who it was from, only that it wasn't cursed, charmed, hexed, jinxed, or covered in itching powder. It was the day before Valentine's Day, so it was expected, but the handsome young wizard had never received chocolates in this manner before. They were always given in person.
And he'd been getting lots of gifts lately. During Halloween he got some from students and staff for another successful Basilisk Run, and during Christmas he'd gotten gifts from friends and strangers alike. He'd given his own gifts to people as well — be it good ones to friends and acquaintances, or bad ones to those who tried to give him cursed objects (or items covered in itching powder, or used undergarments). Reasonable responses, he was sure.
But this heart-shaped tin of fancy chocolates was stumping him entirely. Tom had the feeling that they're was something off about it, but he hadn't the foggiest idea what it could be other than everything else he's checked things for. And he doubted a regular student could have gone past most of his dormmates (who were surprisingly adept at keeping privacy charms around the place).
"What that?" Lestrange's voice cropped up behind Tom, peering curiously at the object that the Heir of Slytherin was staring so intensely at that it was a miracle it hadn't caught on fire yet.
"…Chocolates?" Was his response, but he seemed unsure, scooting away from his bed as if it were going to bite him.
"Well, what's wrong with it?" Goyle asked, lumbering nearby.
"It's obviously a trap." Abraxas' answered smoothly, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow coolly.
"I think so too — trouble is, it's passed all my checks. I haven't the foggiest what could be wrong with it." The teen who got all the weird gifts grumbled out, unsure why the box gave him such heebie jeebies.
"Looks okay to me…" Crabbe mumbled, Tom having allowed him to lift the lid and reveal the daintily decorated confections. "Smells nice, too."
"If it's poisoned, I have some bezoars in my trunk." The platinum blond offered helpfully.
"Why do you have-"
Lestrange's question was cut off by the insane leader of their unnamed group reaching for a chocolate and popping it into his mouth. Seconds passed as they stare at him chewing, watching his expression and seeing if his face changed (or turned different colors). It eventually screwed up in confusion.
"They're perfectly fine." Tom finally stated, mystified.
There was a collective sigh around the dorm.
"Got us all worked-up for nothing." Lestrange muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We demand compensation!"
"Yeah, yeah, have some. I'm not finishing all this myself." Tom muttered with a roll of his eyes, reaching for another one.
Time passed as they polished off the box, Tom's feeling of unease slowly fading away in the face of good company. Perhaps it really was nothing. Just his overactive nerves from being pursued lately. Has he been able to really rest lately? It seemed like he was either being stalked or hounded every other day, and with the events of the summer and balancing classes, Quidditch, Duelling Club, and friendships, Tom felt drained. Maybe he was just… being paranoid, like that Ravenclaw kid that kept screaming "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" at random hours of the day.
However, he noticed that his dormmates looked oddly… glazed… as they made their way toward the front of the castle. It was a Hogsmeade weekend (Tom wanted to browse some more books from the little store there since he hadn't the time the day before) and even now he could see people mulling about, waiting for Slughorn to arrive to let them out. Myrtle, the Musketeers, and Rubeus were already there. A wide grin bloomed on his face as he waved to them, only for his path to be blocked by none other than the toad herself.
"Hello Tom!" Umbridge simpered out in a way that made his skin crawl, tucking a strand of hair away from her scheming, beady eyes, "I was wondering if you would accompany me to Madam Puddifoot's today in celebration of Valentine's Day?"
"Why the blazes would I do that?!" Tom squawked out at the same time his Abraxas stepped up from behind him.
"Go with me instead, Dolores! I would make a far better suitor!"
"No, come with me Dolores!" Lestrange shouted out valiantly, going so far as to drop to one knee, "I promise to make you the happiest girl in the world!"
"I love you Dolores!" Crabbe proclaimed, "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!"
"I love you more!" Goyle roared out, punching Crabbe in the face. "She'll be my date!"
"She wouldn't be caught dead with oafs like you!" Abraxas sneered out, "Clearly she belongs with me!"
"No! With me!" Lestrange argued, and soon the four of them were fighting each other over a gobsmacked Umbridge. Her beady eyes shifted to them and to Tom in equal measures pride, confusion, and rage.
Tom was shaken by their behavior. What had gotten into them? Over that pink cardigan-wearing toad, no less? He had backed out towards the rest of his friends as the commotion went down, casting disarming spells and levitating charms to prevent the boys from killing each other.
"What is going on here?!"
Finally, an adult arrived. Slughorn's voice rang out beyond the Slytherin boys' shouts as their Head made his way over to the commotion.
"Professor, there's something wrong with them!" The lone sane Slytherin sixth year boy tried to explain as Lestrange pulled at Abraxas' hair, "They're going crazy!"
"They've probably been affected by a love potion!" Pomona exclaimed, and Tom felt that sinking feeling in his chest return.
"Love potion?" The Potions Master repeated, his ire dissipating into good humor. "Well, that's an easy fix! I expected something like this around this time — someone always tries it. What was laced, then?" The professor hit the boys with a stunning spell to prevent them from hurting each other more than they already have.
"Chocolates, Professor." Tom answered meekly, wringing his hands nervously. His heart thumped hard in his chest. Why was he so nervous? "I found them on my bed with my name on them."
"Aha, a common food to lace." Slughorn responded sagely, smiling to Tom and the onlooking students (who had started whispering amongst themselves — Umbridge wasn't going to live this one down). "And you were smart enough not to eat any, eh Tom?" A couple of chuckles bounced through the crowd, including ones from his friends.
"No, Professor. I've had five." The nervous prefect answered truthfully.
The hall fell silent.
"You… ingested the love potion?" His concerned Head of House asked, surprise and curiosity coloring his voice, "And how are your feelings toward Miss Umbridge?"
"I'd prefer to avoid her, Professor. It's not a secret that I dislike her." Tom replied bluntly. Whispers began to travel through the crowd.
"How interesting." Slughorn stated, not one to be dissuaded when Tom wasn't calling him a pedophile (progress! It was progress!), "Well, you should come along to my office as well, then. Get you sorted out so you can enjoy the rest of your time at Hogsmeade, eh? Albus can chaperone in my stead in the meantime."
With that, Tom followed Slughorn to his office, four Stunned bodies floating along with them.
"You're immune to love potion?" Myrtle asked, almost alarmed.
"That toad managed to sneak chocolates laced with Amortentia into your dorm?" Fil chuckled out, impressed despite himself.
"You didn't smell anything?" Mona prodded curiously.
The Slytherin boys had been quickly relieved of their lovestruck affliction and released to the wild. None of them were looking the other straight in the eye, but at least they weren't contesting for Umbridge's hand in marriage like knights at a jousting tournament. Slughorn had kept Tom back for a bit to run some tests, but soon allowed him to enjoy the rest of his time off with his friends — though not without raving about the fascinating findings of Tom's unique situation.
Out of spite to what Umbridge had said to him, Tom had gone to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop (electing to visit the bookstore next time… sigh) to see what the hullabaloo was about the place. Myrtle had elected to go with him, and Filius and Pomona were more than happy to introduce them to the place. It was worlds different from the likes of the Three Broomsticks or the Hog's Head. Everything was in light pastels and frills. Food was served in delicate china and silverware — the kind that would break if one were to put the cup down wrong. Tables were tiny, and only seated two people each. Tom and Myrtle had gotten one next to Fil and Mona, who were at ease in the cramped little shop. Had they come here often?
"Okay, so in that order: Apparently so, I don't know how, and no, it didn't smell like anything to me. What does Love Potion even smell like?" Tom grumbled out, not quite sure what to think of the new revelations he'd been given.
"Well, Amortentia is known to smell different to each person." The Hufflepuff expert on potions explained to a perturbed Tom Riddle, "It smells like whatever you like most."
"And if you can't smell anything?" The one immune to aforementioned potion asked, not noticing how conversations around him had stopped to listen in on theirs.
"I've never heard of something like that before." The inquisitive Ravenclaw sixth year added, scratching his chin in thought.
"Yeah, neither had Slughorn." Tom muttered out, feeling better as the bite of macron melted on his tongue (not as good as his or Mrs. Rosewood's goods, but he knew how to appreciate the craft), "He put a vial of the stuff up to my nose and asked me what it smelled like. Apparently I'm an anomaly that can't get affected by it."
"How could that be?" Was his (by table placement, whether he knew or not) date's curious question, leaning forward on the little table, her forehead almost touching his.
"Erm, well, Slughorn hypothesized that if I'm unable to feel those feelings, I may be immune to the effects of the potion." The romantically-deficient teen explained with a shrug, "It's like trying to cast illusion magic on a blind person. It just… doesn't work."
"So you… you can't… feel love?" Myrtle asked in horror.
"Not in the kind Amortentia affects, no." The handsome Slytherin replied before his eyes widened in panic. "I mean, I love you all!" He placated, hands up in a form of surrender, "I love all my friends, and Geppetto and Pinocchio and Oscar, and Esmeralda, and professor Dumbledore, and Mrs. Rosewood…"
"You just can't experience romantic love." The girl who loved him whispered, as things clicked into place for her.
"I guess not." The one who couldn't fully comprehend her feelings by nature replied with another shrug. "I cannot be pierced by Cupid's arrow."
"How would such a nature arise?" Fil wondered aloud. At this, Tom tucked his hands under the table, noticeably uncomfortable.
"Professor Slughorn mentioned… that it's possible to be born without the ability to love… if I were conceived… with one or both parents under, um, the effects of a love potion."
Silence stretched into the little tea shop. No one spoke for a good minute. There was something horrible about that revelation to those who knew about Tom, and what he'd dealt with over the summer. It would be more contemplative for those who didn't. Bit by bit, it began to return to how it once was. Delicate cups and saucers clinked together, the sound of private conversation returned as the world around them began to breathe again. As if they too had just remembered how to.
"This explains… so much." Myrtle breathed out.
"Could be worse, I s'ppose." Tom said weakly, attempting to console his friend who was clearly more upset by this than he was. "I could've been born without the ability to dance. Could you imagine? I'd hate to have two left feet."
At this, Myrtle broke out into peals of laughter. Fil and Mona chuckled along, but it was more in exasperated fondness for their bizarre friend. Clearly he had his priorities in very interesting places.
"Well, I wouldn't say something like that on a day like today and in a place like this." The half goblin ended up saying with a conspiratorial wink after a while had passed, "People may take offense to such flippancy to the ways of Cupid and his skills as a marksman."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
At the young man's confusion, Fil motioned around the room. Finally, Tom really took in his surroundings for the first time since he'd walked through the door of the tea shop.
"Hold on…"
Couples — actual, romantic couples, were seated at every tiny table in this cramped little shop. It suddenly made sense to him why the tables were so small, why the decor was so… tacky and frilly. Cupids charmed to fly about threw heart-shaped confetti in the air (which most students staved off with an umbrella charm over their tea), giving Tom dirty looks and shooting at him with their bows (which scattered into sparks right before impact).
A few well-known power couples in Hogwarts were here for Valentine's Day. Fleamont Potter and Euphemia Selwyn were over in the corner, cooing at each other like turtle doves. Augusta Rookwood and Hank Longbottom were cramped together and sharing biscuits. Goodness, even Lucretia Black and Ignatius Prewett were here! And wasn't that a surprise to behold with everything that's happened?
Last year Prewett had caught Cassiopeia, his then-girlfriend in a rather embarrassing position in the Prefect's Bathroom with his dormmate Cantankerus Nott. And by embarrassing Tom meant mid-coitus, as despite what both Black and Nott claimed it was very much so exactly what it looked like. Naturally the red-headed bespectacled Slytherin Head Boy was upset by this discovery, and thusly plotted his revenge in the Slytherin fashion to enact what was later considered to be a 'Riddle Move' (which according to Myrtle was now a term used by the inhabitants of Hogwarts to describe something previously thought to be impossible to do but against all logic is pulled off flawlessly to the awe and horror of witnesses. Tom took it as a compliment.) The result was a rather bizarre curse upon Cassiopeia which rendered her 'undatable', except no one is quite sure exactly where the curse was placed and how, which makes it impossible for all but Ignatius himself to remove.
Due to the fact her father, Cygnus Black, was on the Board, a harsh punishment was to be given to Prewett, but he wasn't able to convince them to expel him due to how close he was to graduating. Due to the finagling of the school rules and the use of an ancient loophole that hadn't been used for a few centuries, a rather odd punishment was given.
Ignatius was banned from Slytherin, and had to be re-sorted into another house for the remainder of his seventh year. Additionally, any Prewett or one carrying the blood of Prewett could not be sorted into Slytherin in the future. It's been very odd seeing the previously green-clad Head Boy sporting a smug grin and Gryffindor robes.
Needless to say Tom looked up to him.
And apparently, so had Lucretia. She was classier than her cousin, and scoffed at the idea of stalking Prewett. Instead, she'd boldly challenged him to a round of gobstones. If she won, he would go on a date with her. If she lost, she wouldn't bother him again. After an intense round witnessed by awed onlookers, Lucretia emerged victorious (later, when asked how she did it, her eyes would slyly glance towards Eileen Prince — current Captain of the Gobstones team — and wink).
Some would say Prewett had simply traded one Black for another. Others would joke that he couldn't escape the clutches of the Black family so easily. Looking at the pair now, it seemed like they were happy, so why bother them? Especially when they had returned to staring into each other's eyes so fervently. It was highly likely anyone disturbing them would be hexed on the spot.
Tom shook his head at the distraction to focus on the matter at hand.
"Is this a cafe for couples?" The young, clueless Slytherin asked as the realization finally hit him.
"Yes, Tom." Fil answered easily, Mona sliding a galleon in his direction with a grumble.
"Then Umbridge was trying to-"
"Yes, Tom." Myrtle giggled out as the galleon was flipped to her.
"Huh." Tom mused before another epiphany hit him as he regarded the two present members of the Three Musketeers. "Does that mean you two are-"
"Yes, Tom." Mona giggled out as the coin was tossed to her.
"How?" Tom cried, garnering some alarmed head-turns and a good few more dirty looks, "When?"
"Started near the end of last year." Fil answered, a mischievous grin on his face.
"How did I not notice this before?!" Tom lamented in the way only a bloke finding out now that two of his good friends were dating each other for nearly an entire year could.
"Indeed, Tom." Fil mused as a few patrons grumbled, depositing their lost wagers into his hands, "How, indeed."
Tom Riddle's sixth year passed by quicker than the years before had. His dormmates had returned to normal, and Abraxas could now talk to him and look him in the eye without turning pink. Whatever had ailed him had been cured. Umbridge had avoided him out of shame (yay!) for a while before turning her sycophant ways towards some of the seventh years in the Slug Club instead of Tom (double yay!). While Hornby still bullied them, Walburga was being kept at bay by the power of friendship (and threats from Lucretia to not end up like Cassiopeia). His days were full with schoolwork and extracurricular activities, nearly blowing up the castle with private experiments in the Chamber of Secrets, and stress-baking in the kitchens. Even the 'Tom can't feel love' fiasco had faded into the background for the most part.
That wasn't to say it had vanished, no no. He still got the odd side eye as if he were crippled in some way, which was different from the side eye as if he were crazy — he'd gotten those all his life and at this point he didn't notice them anymore — and usually caused that weird sinking feeling to resurface every so often.
Slughorn had run some tests on him. Madam Anise had run some tests. Professor Dumbledore Harlan some tests. He'd been asked strange and deeply personal questions by his professors and mediwitch, and he'd answered them to the best of his ability. Even people from the Ministry came. Unspeakables, they called themselves, from the Department of Mysteries. They ran even more tests on him, 'hrm'ed and 'ha'ed as they created charts that Tom could not understand. He could understand their reactions, though, they were the same ones he had when discovering a new runic array. They'd tutted and poked and prodded and waved wands in his general direction and concluded that yes, he was conceived while one of his parents was under the effects of Amortentia. The most powerful love potion known to the magical world. And because of that, he was unable to experience that which Amortentia fabricated. Love, at least the kind that results in children (like him, in this case).
Professor Dumbledore had given him a look of such pity Tom wondered if he had some kind of terminal disease yet unknown to the world.
But no, it was just that he couldn't feel 'love' in the traditional sense (or Eros, as Slughorn had put it). It wasn't a sickness, it wasn't some disease. He didn't even know that he was 'lacking' anything, that it was something to be lacking of. Perhaps it was just something strange and new to them — but Tom was strange and new in so many other ways! Had been since the day he discovered that he was a wizard.
"I just… don't see why not being able to experience 'Eros' is such a big deal." Tom sighed out in exasperation, in exhaustion.
He and Myrtle sat at the edge of the clearing, a small cliffside facing the castle. It was quiet here, serene. Away from the hustle and bustle of the castle.
"I suppose it's just a shock. Most of us take that sort of thing for granted." Myrtle's voice was soft, pondering as she looked at the castle in the distance, at the lake, anywhere but the boy next to her.
With exams on the horizon and the tests and screens finally being over for his 'love deficient affliction', the young wizard desperately needed a break. So while everyone else was cramming some extra study, he'd popped off on his own to think. When he'd gotten to the clearing, he found that it wasn't empty.
"I understand why the professors and the Unspeakables are going round the bend, but why does everyone else have their knickers in a twist? Whether I can love or can't love shouldn't be their problem." Tom grumbled, his knees tucked under his chin as he watched the giant squid play with some daring students near the water's edge.
Myrtle was already sitting near the cliffside, her gaze faraway. When he'd approached, he tried not to scare her. The snap of a twig almost made her jolt over the edge. Her eyes were wide even after she found out who was there, as if he was a ghost.
"Probably because they're disappointed their affections will never be reciprocated now." The rabbit animagus said wryly, and Tom got the distinct feeling that she was upset. Even now, he could see the traces of tear tracks across her cheeks.
"I suppose…" the young man trailed off, scooting closer to her, his hand going to wipe away the marks. She sighed, and even as his thumb took away the previous stains he could see new tears welling up in her eyes. "Enough about me, then. Do you want to talk about…" he trailed off, unsure how to breach the subject he knew nothing about.
Her head turned towards the Black Lake. They couldn't hear the splashes and laughter from here, but it could be imagined by the animated way the Hufflepuffs were behaving.
"You know, when I first came to Hogwarts, I fell in the lake while in the boat." She began. Tom stayed silent, but gave her a small nod. "When I hit the water, it was freezing. Every inch of my skin was in a state of shock. I couldn't breathe. As I sunk lower into the water I could feel the water pulling me down. And yet… the view of the moonlight as it hit the surface was so beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes off the glow. I thought to myself: 'This is how I'm going to die, and I'm okay'. Crazy, isn't it?"
"A bit." Tom admitted, arm reaching over to comfort her. She instead caught his slender hand, gripping it in her own, smaller ones.
"That's what love feels like." Myrtle croaked, tears beginning to escape her eyes, "It feels just like that — drowning, sinking, breathless. And you know you're doomed and you can't help but admire just how beautiful it is, how wonderful that person is. From the slightest smile, to the warmth of his touch. He's all you can think about. And it hurts so, so much when you can't do anything about it. Can't tell him about it at all!"
That sounded like a horrible experience to Tom — one that he was now more than happy to live without — but he wasn't going to voice that opinion. Instead he pulled her in for a hug, because it looked like she needed it. The Ravenclaw, who in another lifetime would have died by his hands years ago, let him as she wept into his chest. It pained him to see his friend so distraught.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Was all he could manage out, trying to think of ways to help her, "Maybe… you should talk to that person? I could try and see if he likes you back that way and you won't have to-"
"It's you, Tom." Myrtle cut in, bluntly.
The cogs in his brain screeched to a halt.
"I… what?" He answered intelligently.
"I love you, Tom." Myrtle confessed, her face still buried in his chest so her voice was a tad muffled but still unambiguous in her words, "I've loved you for a long while now. I want to hold you and kiss you, I want to be the first person you see when you open your eyes in the morning and the last one when you close them at night. I want to hold your hands in all the days of our lives, I want to experience the world by your side. I can't picture a future without you and I'm afraid you'll slip away and vanish from my sight like a dream upon waking." She sobbed and hiccuped through her entire speech, her hands clutching at the back of his uniform. "I… I want to stay with you forever."
Silence stretched across the clearing. Well, as much as silence could with the sounds of spring and the quiet sobs that were tampering off a bit now. A few minutes passed before Tom spoke, his own voice soft in the way of someone coming to terms with certain notions of their own — even if it wasn't exactly the same.
"I wouldn't mind that."
Myrtle's head jolted from where it had been soaking his shirt, shock written all over her red, swollen face. "What?"
"I mean, we already hold each other. I'm holding you now, right?" He tried to explain, awkwardly, only going by what he could feel, what he was okay with feeling and not-feeling. "I wouldn't mind waking up and falling asleep next to you. I wouldn't mind holding your hand, or traveling with you. I'd like to stay by your side — really, I do — forever, if that's something that's meant to be. So you can stay too."
Cue the waterworks again. Goodness, she hadn't cried this much since her first year, or when he nearly died. Had it been even then that she was feeling this way? It felt like many years of repressed emotion was soaking into his clothes — and he'd been spelling it clean and dry again every so often.
When she'd gotten all that out — and he'd helped her fix herself up a bit — Myrtle laid her head on his shoulder with a calmness that skipped hand in hand with exhaustion.
"I'm always such a fool in front of you." She muttered.
"Aren't we all just fools dancing around in a world revolving?" He answered, hearing a laugh from her at last. A moment passed, and she fidgeted a bit in his lap, twisting to look him in the eyes.
"Can I…. Can I kiss you?" Myrtle whispered hesitantly.
Tom shrugged again. "Sure." As if she'd just asked him to borrow a quill.
At last — at long last, Myrtle allowed herself to close the distance. Her lips brushed against his. Light, like a butterfly to the petals of a flower. His lips were soft — so soft, and warm. Like he was. For a moment her eyes fluttered closed, relishing in the quiet moment. Her heart hammered into her chest. She could feel him hold his breath until she pulled away, watching him nervously, for any recoil, anything that showed her any sign of rejection.
"How did that feel?" She finally asked, unable to stand the silence that stretched after the kiss. Tom tilted his head to the side, as sane as he always was, pondering it like he would a new pastry.
"I didn't dislike it." He told her at last, bluntly, but there was a smile on his face. Not giddy, nor breathless. The same as it ever was.
"I can live with that." She giggled, lacing her fingers with his.
As he closed his fingers over her hand as well, Myrtle was pleased to find that it was a good fit.
Because that's the thing about love. It comes in so many shapes and sizes.
Oni: And that's all for now, folks!
Tom: If you liked it, please consider Following, Favoriting, and Reviewing!
Oni: And I'll see you next time, my Pretties!