Disclaimer: Not mine... etc.
Thank you so much to those who left me a review last chapter...very much appreciated and I love to know what you think.
Some Horcrux spotting now...
Chapter Nine
Meeting Aster Ames
I'm dreaming.
The dream is truly wonderful, and I don't want to wake up just yet. It's Christmas morning, and I'm lying in bed, semi-decent, but so warm. Beside me there's a princess with long, dark hair, and she's stroking my hair and kissing my face, and murmuring to me as she does it.
"Goodbye, Tom," she whispers. She's got a slight French accent, it sounds, well……foreign, and what is a girl doing in my room anyway..?
I open my eyes, trying to focus, and I wake up properly.
Grey eyes come into focus, but it isn't Abraxas back early, no, thank the Gods. These eyes are softer and darker, framed with thick black lashes, a pale heart-shaped face.
"Laura……" I mumble, pulling her down sleepily for another kiss.
"I have to go, Tom. Father, you know. It's five past seven."
"Please don't." I say, still half asleep. Hell, it was worth a try. Anything.
She laughed.
"You know I have to!"
"Stay here…….." I grabbed her wrist and she overbalanced, landing on top of me, fully clothed.
"I can't." she said, after a deep, long kiss.
I sighed, released her. She went to the door, put her hand on the brass handle.
"Where are you going?" I say
"Home." She answered. "You know that."
"Is it safe, then, in France? I thought it was occupied?" I rubbed the sleep from my eyes with the back of my hand and rolled over to see her more clearly.
"Occupied?" She looked blank.
"The war."
"But we are witches and wizards, aren't we?" she answered, smiling.
"Meaning……?" I raised an eyebrow at her.
"Meaning they…..well….they don't notice us, shall I say?"
"I see."
"I really have to go now, Tom." she said. "Goodbye."
She came back towards me, and kissed me again, quickly. Then, before I could speak, she had closed the door behind her, and all I could hear were her footsteps walking away from the door.
I lay there, just thinking, for a few minutes. Somewhere inside me, there was a crazy urge to race after her and bring her back. I didn't, though. I supposed that I should be grateful for what I had, though because at first she told me she only meant to stay in my dorm for an hour or so. I could be very persuasive, though, and eventually she weakened, as I knew she would.
We'd talked for a while, the conversation eventually giving way to an intense kissing session (for they had been growing more and more intense, these past few weeks). She had slipped my shirt off of my shoulders, the feeling of her soft hands on my bare skin something so new and different from anything before that I shuddered with the sensation, and had to reassure her I that was all right. This was, however, soon forgotten when I was cursing every single catch and recalcitrant button on female undergarments...
This was one occasion, however, that I did not get my own way of things, because before long, arms and bodies entwined within the drawn drapes, and worn out with our exertions in the forest, we had both fallen asleep. Now, she had gone back to France and left me alone.
O O O O O
Alone.
Being by myself had never concerned me , before. Now, for the first time, I felt a deep ache inside myself, something odd, that I couldn't place and couldn't explain.
I wasn't sure I entirely liked it, either, but I must have drifted off again, probably through lack of sleep the night before, because the next thing I heard was the booming voice of Professor Slughorn.
O O O O O
Evidently, Slughorn had finally managed to shake off his hangover enough to wish a Merry Christmas to the poor orphan boy, and he did so loudly and jovially, dragging me rudely up from under a thousand tons of sleep and pleasant fantasies.
"Riddle! Up you get, m'boy! It's Christmas!" he cried, impatiently.
I pulled the covers up before he could notice that I had slept in my black school trousers, flecked with mud from the forest ride, and unfastened from other causes..
"Sir?" I mumbled, gingerly opening one eye.
I tried not to outwardly wince at the horrific sight that swam into my line of vision. Slughorn was clad in a green velvet Father Christmas outfit that appeared to be several sizes too small. He was holding a large bag of Honeydukes sweets which he proceeded to dump onto my midriff, making me gasp suddenly for air.
"Thank you….. Sir…." I said, putting on the most charming and polite tone that I could muster under the circumstances, and trying hard not to gape, that would be rude, after all.
Slughorn, however, seemed nonchalant of his bizarre appearance if he had noticed at all, and continued to boom at me.
"Up you get now, Tom! Look sharp, it's Christmas Day!"
I hauled myself up at last into some semblance of a sitting position, Slughorn was indicating some small wrapped parcels at the foot of my bed. Actually, the pile looked slightly larger than usual. 'Hmm...', I mused sardonically. Perhaps I had an extra thick book from Professor Dippet…."1001 uses for Flobberworms" or some such delight, I just knew.
It was always the same. Always.
Slughorn crossed the room and placed a fat hand on the brass doorknob.
"I'll see you in twenty minutes then, Tom. A nice hearty, festive breakfast, eh?"
He took out a slim, silver pocket watch that appeared to have no hands, considered it for a moment, and opened the dormitory door to leave.
"Aha! He'll be here now. Must be off, Riddle, m'boy. Old friend coming to pick up his daughter. Great businessman. Thought I'd see him for a chat about old times and such. Networking, I believe they call it, you know."
He winked roguishly at me from the doorway. I knew what he meant. He always liked to keep in the good books of the successful, powerful and influential. And I was under no illusions that he'd have even looked at me, orphan or no, had I been an average student, with average looks and average marks. Then suddenly, I realised what he had actually said and felt my stomach jolt.
"Who is it, Sir? Your friend?" I asked, carefully adopting a light, casual tone.
Slughorn looked slightly surprised.
"Well, you won't know the daughter well, though she's in your Potions class, Tom. Average, you know. I can't say I've seen you two speak. Ravenclaw, hasn't been here long..."
He leaned towards me confidentially. "Expelled, you see. From Beauxbatons. She's given him more trouble than he deserves. Such a pity, I knew his boys well, good, hardworking, all three of them. Talented, you know, quite something, not like the girl. All Aurors. Died fighting Grindelwald's mob. A tragedy, Tom, a terrible tragedy. Poor old Ames, he was quite beside himself.."
"Ames?" I said.
"Aster Ames." Slughorn said, with a flourish. "The finest supplier of Magical Creature based potion ingredients in the whole of Europe. Ravens, unicorns, even a dragon or two, or so I heard. Keeps them all, on his farm in France. Lucky for me, Tom, you understand, for those rarer ingredients! But I must dash, or he'll be off again, he's always busy. Fifteen minutes!" he called down the stairs and I sat there, amazed.
Slughorn knew Laura's father.
This wasn't something she had ever mentioned, though I supposed as it was clear that he was following Aster Ames lead in having little or no interest in her as a person on her own merit, then why would she?
Three minutes later, I was running up the stairs like a madman, out of the dungeons after Slughorn, hoping to see Laura before she left.
I got my wish, for as I stood, catching my breath as it billowed white in the cold on the front steps, I saw a carriage drawn by four grey horses winding it's way up the drive. The carriage stopped and a man got down and began to walk towards the school.
This man was small and thin, sporting a small moustache that was unpleasantly reminiscent of the cartoon pictures of Adolf Hitler that were springing up all over Muggle London. Indeed, his dark grey hair looked oily, shining and slicked back from his forehead, beneath which sharp black eyes and an even sharper nose were placed.
Those eyes fixed themselves upon me, or so I thought, but as he approached me , he gestured me aside with a condescending:
"Out of my way, boy."
He swept past me. He was much shorter than I was, but he looked far too old to be the father of a sixteen year old, older even than Professor Dippet. I turned angrily to hear him say, in the same thick French accent:
"Laura."
"Hello, Father. I'm glad you could come."
Laura was standing on the stairs in the entrance hall. Her hair was swept up tidily and she wasn't wearing her silver comb, though I was willing to bet it was somewhere on her person.
She looked beautiful, in robes of a soft silver grey and thrown over these , her blue velvet cloak from the night I had met her on the Astronomy tower . She was oddly flushed, and I could guess at the reason, for her eyes were not looking at Aster Ames. They had drifted over his shoulder and were resting on me, surprised, a little worried, but still, they had a knowing depth to them, something only she and I knew, a secret, our secret., and I felt a stirring somewhere inside myself.
"Good morning, Tom." She said, nervously. Polite and formal. How-do-you-do, Mr Riddle.
I didn't answer her, but looked back at her as if daring her to continue the charade.
"Laura, you are late." said Aster Ames, impatiently, as she kissed him on both cheeks.
Laura said something to him in French that sounded vaguely apologetic, and let him lead her past me, away.
I stood and watched her go, angrily, but my anger more directed at her arrogant, disapproving father. A curse or two would do Aster Ames good, I decided.
'Who is zat boy hanging around the hall?" I heard him ask her as they walked to the carriage.
"Tom Riddle, Father. He's really clever, you know. Top of every class."
"Riddle? Horace Slughorn's favourite orphan, no?" Ames gave a derisive laugh, and looked back at me contemptuously. Laura was silent.
"He is not a friend of yours, I 'ope? I should not want another reason for you to disappoint me, Laura. You know there are so many, already."
It was a fortunate thing at that moment for Professor Slughorn himself to appear.
"Aster, it's been too long!" he boomed, from the portico.
Ames gave Slughorn a steely and somewhat insincere smile but Slughorn did not seem to notice, and swept him off to the carriage for a 'chat' as he called it.
Laura was left standing in the courtyard. I watched as she looked quickly behind her to make sure her father and Slughorn were safely out of sight, then ran over to me and kissed me hard, on the mouth.
"I'll write." she said, breathlessly, before dashing back across the gravel drive and climbing into the carriage.
I returned to my dormitory some time later. My small pile of parcels were still there, unopened, lying at the foot of my bed.
The top one was from Abraxas. I opened it, and out fell a box of Bertie Bott's beans.
I thought this odd, as Abraxas knew very well that I hated the things, having never been in a position to develop a sweet tooth. I picked them up suspiciously, and sure enough, the writing began to shift and change, the package growing taller and thinner, flimsy cardboard turning to cool glass under my palm.
I must say I was surprised that Abraxas had actually managed to pull off the disguising charm that I had shown him months ago, and I knew that he himself would probably drink the stuff anyway. I never let my guard down. Well, almost never. I shoved the bottle under the bed and regarded the other packages disdainfully.
The same predictable tat as last year. Like I said, it was always the same. Sweets from Professors Slughorn, (Potions) Merrythought (Defence Against the Dark Arts) and Flitwick, the Charms master who seemed to have me firmly cast in the role of the ill-fortuned hero. Maybe Laura would like them. I smiled, my insides glowing as I remembered how she had kissed me with her father just feet away.
I unwrapped and discarded Headmaster Dippet's customary book (Magical Fish And How To Breed Them Successfully.) I had no idea what on earth could have possibly given Dippet the impression that I craved the opportunity to read about magical fish, let alone attempt to breed them.
My 'present' from the orphanage had been forwarded as usual, this year it was a small book, thin and bound in black. On the front in gold lettering was inscribed '1943'.
A diary. I turned it over and saw that it had been bought from the newsagents in the Vauxhall Road, a few doors down from the Orphanage. I guessed all the others had one too, and I threw it onto the bedside stand.. I never wrote in them.
The last present wasn't wrapped in paper, but in a clean handkerchief, pale blue and lace edged. An illuminated L was embroidered in one corner.
For the first time that morning I felt excited, I wanted to see what she had given me.
Slipping off the thin fabric of the handkerchief, I found myself holding a thin, silver flute, no bigger than my forefinger. I held it up, recognising the similarity from the one Laura had the night before, and then the note fluttered out, written on parchment in elegant cursive.
"My spare.Use after dark!"
'L'
I hid the flute at the back of the trunk with the note, waiting for the right time to use it, and then, without thinking, I slipped the handkerchief into my pocket and went upstairs.
To be continued...
A/N A little misplaced trust there, I think...and what a nasty snarky Dad she has! Reviews loved and wanted...thank you for reading!