A/N: WHEW. So I didn't go to school today because I accidentally set my clock BACK rather than forward (facepalm), but that's the only reason why this is out. I cranked out the whole thing today (all twenty-five pages) so I guess it was good news for you guys (: BIG BIG BIG things happening in next chapter, though I must admit we're around three fourths of the way finished with this fic. I'm already starting another fic so that when this one is over I'll be able to start posting right away. Its not another Harry Potter fic, but instead a Naruto one. It'll probably be just as epic and long as this one, haha. I'd like to thank all my lovely reviewers, and anyone else who Fave'd/Alert'd you guys really are my motivation 99.9% of the time (the other .1% is BMTH xD) Anyways, next chapter will probably be EPICALLY long too, but don't be expecting that for a few weeks. Hope y'all are having a lovely Monday.
Chapter Nineteen: Breaking Up Is Hard To Do
"Hello Miss Hume, not quite the dancer, hmm?"
Morgan narrowed her eyes in confusion, tracing the lines between the floorboards while she thought. The Slytherin seemed pleasant enough now, but she wasn't naïve. Any moment and she could find herself either poisoned, hexed, or dragged by her hair into a dark closet.
"Dancing isn't my thing." She raised her eyes briefly to get a better look at the older student. He was stocky, with a thick neck and small eyes. No wonder he had overpowered her so easily before.
"That's a shame," he ran an appreciative eye along her crossed legs; "you look gorgeous."
The muscles in Morgan's legs bunched together, more out of instinct than anything else. She gave the Slytherin a thin smile in response.
"The silent treatment, eh?"
No, it was the 'I-don't-talk-to-idiots' treatment, but she wasn't going to correct the kid.
The Slytherin sighed, "Look, about our earlier disagreement…no hard feelings?"
Morgan raised a speculative eyebrow, hoping he realized how full of shit she thought he was. She wasn't going to pretend getting her ass kicked was no big deal. Not only was her pride slightly scuffed in the exchange, but he had made her late to class.
Though there was no denying she was a tad bit curious. What was with the complete one-eighty? The Slytherin seemed to hate her a few weeks ago.
She could ask why he suddenly thought about her as gorgeous and not 'bony', but throughout the years she had learned that saying nothing was far more effective than saying anything at all.
"I'm sorry about slapping you around," the Slytherin babbled, uneasy with her silence. He pretended to flick lint off his suit jacket. "I didn't know…"
Didn't know what?
He looked nervous as he crossed his arms, "Now you're practically family, you know that? Anything you need. You're pretty cunning too; no wonder you're in my house." He winked, trying to ease the palpable tension between them by throwing an arm around her shoulder.
She removed it with a warning glance.
"Right. Well then I'll just hand this to you and be on my way. Good job stringing along that Gryffindor—I never saw that twist coming."
The fuck?
The nameless Slytherin smiled vaguely before standing up to leave. He paused only to drop a slip of parchment in her hands.
Morgan fiddled with the edges of the note, her 'shit-is-about-to-hit-the-fan' senses tingling. The man who had left a nice mark across her face a few weeks ago now seemed to be…scared of her.
It was such an unexpected development that she just knew it would lead to Very Bad things.
Teasing her bottom lip between her teeth she unfolded the note. Tom Riddle's neat script flashed under the candlelight:
'Meet me in our room at midnight.'
Anger flashed hot and fast through Morgan's chest. How the hell was the Room of Requirement their room? He wouldn't even stay within five feet of her now, so it was stupid of him to say that they shared something like that. Besides, since they were currently not on speaking terms, the room was hers, damn it!
And then she realized she was getting angry because he was avoiding her. The implication it brought forth made her flush hotly. She actually missed his company, as strange and horribly twisted as that was.
Trailing her eyes around the perimeter of the dance floor, Morgan caught sight of Tom. He met her gaze, a small smirk playing along his lips as he stood intimately close to a prettily dressed girl.
Morgan hoped he felt her glare from the roots of his neatly combed hair to his toes. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, her suspicion about the whole situation reached new heights.
Why didn't Riddle just come over to her to tell her in person? What was the point of including a middle man, a messenger boy? And that smirk—Tom was very obviously pleased about something, and her glaring at him only seemed to carve the offending quirk of his lips more permanently upon his face.
What had that Slytherin said? That she was stringing along the Gryffindor? And the note, 'meet me in our room'…
Morgan blanched. Tom's smile widened.
Oh, he was a bastard.
The piece of parchment burst into flames within her crumpled fist, the fire a product of her humiliation, anger, and hatred. It was a rare display of wandless and wordless magic, something that happened more often to young wizards not yet adept at controlling their newfound powers. Not that Morgan would ever be adept at magic.
Irritably brushing the soot from her hands, Morgan stood. She wasn't sure what she was going to do when she got her hands on the snake, but it wouldn't be pleasant.
Tom had obviously given the Slytherin his note with more than enough hints. He made the seventh year believe that she was sleeping with him while 'stringing' along James. Riddle was making her out to be the perfect snake, a true friend of the noble House of Slytherin. A whore.
Is this what happened to women who rejected Tom's advancements?
Tom flashed a quick smile before excusing himself from his date and disappearing into a small crowd of dancers. Morgan followed after him with a little less grace, smashing her elbows into people as she desperately tried to keep a shock of dark and pale skin within her line of sight.
She was almost free of the crowd when she ran into someone. This someone was obviously very big and tall, for the impact sent her flying to the floor in a flurry of curses. She waved away the procured hand, intent only on finding Tom so she could rip him to pieces, when the Big Someone stopped her.
"I'm very sorry, ma'am." The man's arms were holding her shoulders in place, as he thought that her swift movement was an affect of dizziness. "I did not mean to run into you."
Morgan gave a long suffering sigh of patience. "It's fine. I don't care. I need to get going, so if you'll please," she made a shooing motion with her hand and the man laughed.
"My name is Matthew, I am a friend of Slughorn. You are a student, yes?"
Without asking for permission, Matthew placed a hand on Morgan's lower back and began guiding her to the perimeter of the room. The young witch squirmed uncomfortably, and tried to find a polite way to tell her new companion to fuck off.
"Er, I'm looking for someone, so I shall take your leave now."
Matthew smiled, "You wouldn't deny me the company of a lovely lady now, would you? I'm all alone; my friend has left me in favor of more intelligent company." A tan hand gestured to the other end of the room, where a portly man was speaking with another student. A student with dark hair, who looked as if he hadn't seen the sun in years, who was…
"Tom," the name came out as a growl more than anything.
"Oh," Matthew said, "you know him?"
"Yes, he's the man I am going to be charged for murdering."
"Not a fan of his then," Morgan's companion nodded, "just as well. Anthony is no friend of mine either. He's a bumbling idiot."
Morgan found herself being gently, but firmly, pushed down into a seat. Matthew sat across from her, smiling through his blond hair. He leaned over the table as if enraptured by the stories Morgan had yet to tell.
He was creepy and intimidating in his own way, so Morgan supposed she should be cautious of him. Her thoughts were confirmed when he waved his hand over the candle in the middle of the table, alighting a flame upon its wick without the help of a wand.
The fire danced across the plane's of Matthew's face, revealing a set of three claw marks descending from his jawbone to his neck. Noticing her study of him, Matthew smiled and lightly brought his hand to ghost over the marred skin. "They have a certain charm, do they not?"
Morgan resisted the urge to rub her hands over the scars that had been sufficiently covered with magic prior to the party. Undeniably curious, Morgan leaned over the table, too, wondering about the origin of his scars.
Through narrowed eyes, Morgan was able to ascertain that Matthew's unfortunate markings were not the product of magic. They were jagged, not clear cut as hers were.
"I received these when—"
Morgan held up a hand, cutting off his explanation. Propping her head upon her arms, she spoke after another quiet minute of contemplation, "A werewolf."
Matthew's eyes lit with excitement, "Wonderful deduction miss…?"
"Just Leah."
Her companion leaned backwards in his chair, throwing the candlelight from his face to his broad chest. A pin tucked under the lapel of his collar flashed under its new attention, and Morgan had to force herself not to jump out of her seat.
It was Grindelwald's symbol.
Suddenly, past events made sense.
Tom had planned this from the beginning, since that night in the Room of Requirement. From trying on the dress to baiting her with that note, to James being conveniently unavailable to escort her to the dance, he played her like a puppet. He had wanted her to chase after him tonight, just so she could be led straight to Matthew. For some reason or another, she was meant to talk with him, or…
Her eyes flashed back to where Tom stood with that Anthony man. Surely Riddle wouldn't trust her to gather information, so that meant she was just a distraction.
Oh man, how she hated him sometimes.
"I've never seen a young lady deduce the origin of my scars before," Matthew said, sounding amused.
Morgan half-heartedly shrugged. "It wasn't too hard," she replied, forcing herself to lean away from the table. "The cuts are jagged. Even a wizard with shitty aim wouldn't be able to do such a messy job of carving up your face."
Matthew raised one eyebrow, "Colorful vocabulary."
"Oh, it's a part of my charm, I suppose." The muscles in Morgan's arm were starting to strain, and she scowled, letting her thoughts wander. She was getting weaker, a bad sign. It meant that the clock was counting down faster than she thought.
"You look to be deep in thought. Care to share?" Matthew brought a glass of wine to his lips; a cup that Morgan knew wasn't there seconds earlier.
"It's a secret," Morgan mumbled, rubbing her temples.
"I like secrets."
Morgan couldn't help but give the pin under the lapel of his jacket a pointed look. "Oh, I'm sure you do."
Matthew's smile widened over his glass. "Would you like something to drink? Perhaps wine. It can be our secret."
Ew. Sexual innuendo, not cool.
'Don't scare him off.' A quiet voice in Morgan's head prompted. 'Tom needs more time.'
Ugh, but why should that matter to her? Why was she even letting Tom play her for the fool? She should pay him back by spoiling his stupid plan.
"I don't like to share secrets," Morgan whispered, leaning over the table again with what she hoped was a coy smile.
Oh god. She really was a fool for Tom Riddle.
"You are quite the catch, Leah," Matthew mused, rubbing a hand over his face. "Are you spoken for?" He peeked at her through his fingers, seeming almost…weary
Morgan wiped the smile off her face and regarded him silently. "What's with that look?" she wondered.
"You seem too good to be true," Matthew admitted. "And I noticed you are in Slytherin, which is another warning. The women in other Houses are snakes, Slytherin women are…downright beastly. I just hope I'm not getting in over my head."
Morgan snorted, "Oh god, that is so unbelievably true." She reached over and stole Matthew's glass of wine from the table, downing the rest of it in a single gulp. "But let me tell you something," she growled, heat burning in her stomach, "it's the men you have to watch out for."
Matthew laughed, a booming sound that attracted the attention of nearby ladies and lingering men. Morgan almost missed the questioning glance Kayden threw her way.
"In over my head indeed," he smiled, waving his hand and summoning two more glasses of wine. He batted away her quirked eyebrow, "Don't worry about drinking more, no one here would dare say a word against me."
Morgan shrugged, taking a much more cautious sip of her drink this time.
"So what were you saying about men?"
"Ah, right," she slammed her glass down on the table. "Men! They manipulate your emotions, use you for their own needs, and lie so well that you wouldn't be able to figure out what's true and what's not if your life depended on it. Complete bastards, fuck-ups in every sense of the term." She pointed towards Tom then, "Take that little bitch for example. I hate him, yet somehow I find myself following everything he says, even if I don't think I am. Ack, I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole."
Morgan was vaguely aware of the fact that the wine was loosening her tongue, and she belatedly bit it. The ensuing silence was uncomfortable. "So…yeah, great pastries here, right?"
Matthew sighed, "Damn, you're taken by that fellow over there, aren't you?"
Morgan choked on air, "What? Were you not listening? I hate him. Fuck," she dropped her head on the table, letting the wood cool her flaming cheeks. "He's absolutely awful."
"You don't mean that."
Morgan sighed, "No, I don't. I wish I did, but I don't." She lifted her head to glare at Matthew, "but that doesn't mean I'm sleeping with him, so don't you dare assume that either."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Good. Can I have more wine?"
---
Morgan stumbled up the steps to the seventh floor, her head pounding. She had way too much to drink, which wasn't a good thing.
It was only her third time being drunk, and it made her mind wander, her steps falter, and her eyes burn. But most of all, it made her angry. Drinking always did.
Rubbing her eyes, Morgan tried to remember which portrait was the entrance to the Room of Requirement, a distinct feeling that she was forgetting something whirling around in her mind.
It was an easy feeling to ignore, considering most of her mind was being put to good use thinking of nasty things to say to Tom. It's not that she had a particularly bad time with Matthew—he was a good conversationalist (or maybe she was just drunk), and besides for the few times he tried to put his hand on her knee, he kept to himself. No, it was more of the fact that she was manipulated. Though she wasn't sure who she was angrier with, Tom or herself.
Finally, she found the portrait, or what she thought was the portrait. Right, now what did she have to do? Ugh, she couldn't think straight. She stalked towards the wall and began knocking on the bricks. "Open up Riddle!" She hollered, not bothering to lower her voice. "Open up the goddamn door!"
---
Tom Riddle rubbed his temples with one hand while rolling a jar around his fingers with the other. Inside, a piece of Anthony's hair lay limp. The evening had gone perfectly.
Leah really was a good little girl. She caught on quite quickly, he believed, for she certainly kept Matthew entertained.
The problem with Grindelwald's men was simple. They were put in groups of two, a competent man with a not-so competent man, in hopes that they would balance each other out. Matthew was perceptive, deadly cunning, and violent. Anthony was just the opposite.
In order to get to Anthony, Matthew had to be removed from the picture. Thankfully, Matthew had a…weakness for good looking woman. Which is where Leah came in.
Once Matthew had been otherwise occupied, it was easy to hex Anthony. The spell made one answer questions truthfully without remembering doing so afterwards. It was one of Tom's best inventions.
He looked to the clock on the wall. Five past midnight. Where was that woman?
A smile flickered across his face when he thought about how angry she would be. She would probably scream and yell and holler about how much she hated him, but in the end she would submit to him. All it would take is one hand to brush against her hidden dark mark.
At least he hoped that would happen. He didn't like to think of the other possibilities. Ones where Leah would stalk into the room, quite calmly listen to what he had to say, and then leave without another word. They had been avoiding each other since that night a few weeks back, and he hoped that the tension would have dissipated by now.
He wasn't sure what to think about what happened. And he hated to be unsure about anything. He hadn't gone in there planning to force himself on her, but for some reason that was exactly what he ended up doing.
It had been a spontaneous act, one he hadn't thought out. He just suddenly knew what he wanted, and went for it. And why should that bother him? Leah was right, underneath it all he was a guy, so of course he had certain attractions...but to her? That made no sense at all.
"Why does it have to make sense?" he wondered aloud, pocketing the vial of Anthony's hair. Sure, Leah wasn't the most attractive of girls out there, and she was loud, not to mention obnoxious and unsavory. But that didn't mean she wasn't pretty or endearing at times, and wasn't that unwillingness to submit what he liked about her? A challenge—that was what he saw her as.
And besides, hadn't he already established that she was his, and he could do with her what he pleased?
If there was one thing he didn't understand, though, it was why she resisted. It had been quite the surprise. He knew she was attracted to him (who wasn't?) so what held her back?
The experience had been interesting and awkward all rolled up into one nice package. And he could still taste her skin on his lips.
He groaned and pounded his temples again, willing his thoughts to turn to more important things. He had discovered when Grindelwald's men were going after the Founders Necklace. He could either snag it before them, or…snag it with them.
He was patting the vile in his pocket smugly when he heard someone pounding against the wall.
"—Open up the goddamn door!"
Leah? Was she stupid or something?
Swearing, Tom leaped over the couch and ripped open the door to the Room of Requirement. Leah was there, outside in the hallway, fist poised to bang on the wall again. He was just about to yank her into the room when she rounded on him.
"You!" she growled, and she pushed him into the room, closing the door behind them. "You sick, manipulative bastard!" each curse was punctuated with a strong poke to his chest. "You're so fucking mean! That's what you are, mean!"
Tom frowned and grabbed her finger before it could reach him again. Confused, he tilted her head upwards. Leah's eyes were glassy, and her steps staggering.
Oh for the love of god. She couldn't stay out of trouble for one fucking day, could she?
"You're drunk!?"
"No!" she shrieked, "I am angry! Angry at you…or myself. Maybe both. Yes, let's go with both!" She ripped her small hand away from him and pushed against his chest. "You played me like a puppet! And I can't believe I fell for it!"
"Leah, sit down."
"No!" she snapped, "I want to know why! Why didn't you trust me enough to ask me to distract that Grindelwald prick? Is this because I didn't kiss you? Is that why? Because I rejected you and you were hurt but you think you're too macho to admit it!?"
Tom glowered, trying to keep his temper in check. He let out a breath of air. "That's not why, Leah." He kept a firm grip on her shoulders, pushing her down onto the nearby couch.
Somehow, Leah got a hold of his tie, tangling their legs and dragging them both to the floor. "That is why! You're not used to not getting what you want so you break what you can't get, eh?" she was awkwardly draped across him, her fist pounding into his chest. "I hate you! I hate me! I hate everything!"
Grunting, Tom got a good grip on her wrists and pushed her off him, folding his legs under him so he rested on his knees. He made sure to keep Leah at arm's length, and was surprised to see tears streaking down her face. "Calm down!"
"No! I hate this! I hate you, you murderer!"
"Fine," Tom pressed his thumb down on where he knew her mark to be, eliciting a cry of pain from her. The cry was ended short however, when her body was racked with deep shuddering coughs. Her shoulders shook with the force of them.
The pain seemed to sober her up a little, and she meekly tried to twist away from him, all her anger gone. "Let me go," she wheezed, trying to crawl backwards.
Tom kept his hand tightly round her arm, "Are you going to hit me again, or scream?"
"No," she gave an experimental tug, and Tom released her. He leaned against the bottom of the couch, breathing a bit harder than usual due to their struggle. Why was it he was always physically fighting her? For some reason, he hadn't even thought to use his wand.
Leah stumbled to her feet, smaller coughs making their way out of her chest. He watched curiously as small spasms shook her arms. For the most part, she ignored them, instead furiously and clumsily wiping at her eyes, only succeeding in smearing more of her makeup.
"Are you okay now?"
"Fine," she said scathingly, rubbing her arms now, as if disgusted by his touch. "I'll just be leaving."
"Wait."
"No."
"I said stop." Tom's tone darkened exponentially as he felt familiar and dark anger building in his chest. It was the same anger that helped him deliver the killing blow to his father and grandparents, the same anger that fueled his hate. It gave him strength.
And, apparently, it gave him obedience.
Leah was frozen by the door, still crying.
"Three days from tomorrow, in the alley near the Leaky Cauldron, a blue brick will be activated as a port-key. It will be active for thirty seconds, starting at five pm. If you do not meet me within the first ten, I will assume you want no part in this anymore and leave without you. If that is the case, once we come back from break I will modify your memory, whether you want me to or not."
"I hate you," Leah whispered. And then she simply left.
Tom rubbed his chest… a part of him hurt.
---
Morgan pressed the heel of her palm into her eyes, fighting against her killer hangover. The sun in the sky didn't help, nor did the screaming students on the platform. Morgan childishly kept one hand in Violetta's while the other tried to wipe away the evidence of her tears.
Everything hurt. Not just her body, which was wracked with coughs every thirty or so minutes, but her heart. Last night hadn't gone well. And she knew exactly whose fault that was.
She probably wouldn't have even gotten up in the morning if it hadn't been for Violetta. After her fight with Tom, she had cried her way all the way back to the dorm, tripping up the stairs to her room. Violetta had been up reading, took one look at her tear streaked face, and gently tugged her to bed. She helped Morgan change out of her dress, wiped away her tears, and held her while they continued to fall.
It was a weird experience. Violetta had always been cool, aloof, and unreachable. But last night she had been warm and comforting, almost what Morgan imagined a mother to be.
The best part was she didn't even ask what was wrong. She simply muttered soothing words into her hair, telling her it was going to be alright. Even if it wasn't. She even snapped at Lucretia when the Black descendent complained about the loud noise, and then proceeded to pet Morgan's head until she fell asleep.
Morgan didn't know how she could ever thank her.
"Here's good," the blonde witch muttered to herself, sliding the compartment door open and closing it behind them. "Wouldn't you say so, Hume?"
Morgan nodded, collapsing in one of the seats and leaning her head against the window. "I hate drinking."
"Nasty habit," Violetta agreed, pulling out a book.
Silence filled the space between them while Violetta read, though Morgan couldn't say she minded. It was pleasant, especially after all the noise. She was almost lulled to sleep by the train's movements, that is, until James slid into the compartment.
Violetta glanced at him, registered the look on his face, and got up silently. "I do believe I should go find Braxton, make sure he doesn't waste his family fortune on food. Good day, Darley, Leah."
Morgan watched wearily as James sat down across from her, his hands on his knees. He looked almost as bad as she did, with dark circles under his eyes and mussed robes. He allowed Morgan to study him silently for a minute before he spoke.
"Did you sleep with someone last night?"
Morgan cast her glance back towards the passing scenery. Really, what a perfect way to start vacation, "No."
Hands reached over to cup her face, and Morgan found her eyes meeting those of her sort-of-boyfriend. "Leah, darling, its okay, just tell me the truth. Kayden saw you with another man, drinking wine. He told me he saw that same man walk you out of the party, stumbling over your own feet."
"Nothing happened," Morgan mumbled, "I left then, for my dorm."
James gaze darkened. "No you didn't," he whispered. "You went into your dorm over an hour later."
"How do you know?" Morgan demanded, tired of all the accusations.
"Lucretia."
"And you believe her!?"
"You had told me you were going to stop by after the party to stay with me last night, but you never did. Can't you see where these questions are coming from?" He brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Just tell me the truth. You were drunk, I understand. You weren't in the right mind."
Morgan pushed his hands away angrily. "Listen to me! I didn't sleep with anyone! Why can't you believe me? Yes, I spoke with Matthew that evening and yes he walked me out of the party, but he left after that! I swear!"
James' eyes narrowed, "So its Matthew then, is it?
"Goddamn it, James, of course I know his name, we talked for two hours! It's not unusual to know someone's name."
"Then what were you crying about?"
Oh god, she was going to wring Lucretia's neck.
"James, please, listen to me. Nothing happened!"
"Then tell me what did!" James bounced to his feet, clenching his fists. He was getting angry, too. "Where did you go?!"
"I got lost, I was drunk! I went straight to my dorm, sorry if it took a little longer for me to get there."
"Damn it Leah, that has to be the weakest excuse I've ever heard." The Seventh year Gryffindor was breathing heavily now. "Just tell me the truth and I can move on. We can move on. Come with me to my house for break, we can be together. My family is alive, did I tell you that? They have a new house, out of Britain, where the bombs aren't a danger. We can be together then, I promise I'll take care of you for the rest of your life, just please, tell me the truth."
Love? Love?
"You…love me?" Oh fuck, why now? She always wanted to be loved, hadn't she? And now she had her chance. It was right in front of her.
But she couldn't go to his house, the port-key…
More tears threatened to fall. Why was she thinking about Tom now? Hadn't she decided she wasn't going to help him, that he and this whole fucking mission could rot in hell for all the pain it caused her? She deserved to be happy with James.
'No' a voice whispered, 'you don't. You've let this go on for far too long. James deserves to be happy, and you could never do that. Not with what…four weeks to live? Stop being selfish.'
"Yes," James said, excitedly, "I love you Leah, more than you know. We can be happy together."
It was a struggle to force the steel into her voice, "If you loved me, you would believe me."
James face fell, "Leah…"
"I'm happy your family is alive," she continued, looking at the floor, "but I can't go with you. Not now. Not ever."
"Leah, stop talking like this—"
"No, listen to me James. When we began this you told me if it didn't work out, it didn't work out. It's not working out. I don't love you."
James stopped in front of her, "Please, let's just talk about this for a little while."
"No," Morgan haughtily turned her gaze to the window. "Leave."
"Please—"
"James, begging is rather pathetic, don't you think?" Morgan looked back at him and almost broke at the expression on his face. Her mind begged her to be softer, to go easier on him, it didn't have to be this hard for him. She didn't have to be so cruel.
No, she did. James was too nice, too sweet, to give her up so easily. He would keep coming back to her, keep forgiving her and giving her second chances. And god, if he did she wouldn't be able to turn him down. He had to hate her.
"Just go, now, preferably."
James looked comically shocked, "So this is how it ends? 'Just go'? I thought you were different Leah. I thought you were better than these other snakes, but you're not. You're just as bad as them. What was this to you, some stupid game?"
"Think whatever you want."
"You're cruel, Leah," James said, turning towards the door. "Just tell me one thing, did you have sex with that man?"
"Yes."
The compartment door slid open and then shut.
James was wrong about one thing. She wasn't as bad as those snakes, she was worse.
---
Tom tapped his wand lightly against his other hand, a small smile curving his lips upwards. Oh yes, Leah was a snake. Unfortunately for James, he was ignorant of exactly what kind.
---
"Now Leah, erm, I'm trusting you on this," Violetta twisted her hands together anxiously.
Morgan raised her head, surprised. "Man, Violetta you sure are tense. What's the big deal?" She scuffed her shoes against the ground, her skirt swaying along her legs. She really did hate the clothes of the 50's. All conservative. Black skirt, blue blouse, black shoes. So boring.
She glanced at Violetta, who was tightly clutching her small trunk. Morgan had to admit she was surprised when Violetta entered their compartment five minutes before their arrival to inform her that they would have to walk to her house. Thankfully, by that time, Morgan had finished wiping her eyes about her encounter with James.
Morgan didn't mind walking; she just thought that Violetta was bat-shit crazy rich.
"No one has ever been to my house before," the blond witch admitted. "It won't be what you expect."
Morgan dodged a man in a business suit, pulling her bag with her. "What," she joked, "No iron wrought gate?"
Violetta winced before drawing to a stop on the corner.
"What, are we taking a cab?" Morgan wondered, examining the crowded street and buildings. The area wasn't exactly the best one to stop in. Though it hadn't suffered any bombings, it was shady, filled with raggedly dressed people and the occasional homeless man. The Leaky Cauldron was only five or six blocks away, and Morgan just knew what types of savory people stayed there.
"No," Violetta said, straightening her back and shoulders. She looked formidable when she turned to face Morgan. "We're here."
Morgan furrowed her brow, looking at the building Violetta pointed to. It was in shambles, with peeling paint and a cracked glass door. A large apartment complex that looked like it was being suffocated by the buildings around it.
Morgan swallowed her surprise, aware of the gaze her friend was fixing her with. "Absolutely charming," she said with a grin, "I call top bunk!"
Violetta let out a whoosh of air, awkwardly patting Morgan's shoulder. "Sure," she smiled, and it was a real smile, not that aloof and detached one Morgan was used to seeing. "Come meet my family."
Violetta stepped through the creaky door and into a shady hallway. Broken lights peppered the ceiling, and the wallpaper was peeling. Morgan was almost afraid of how much weight she could put on the stairs, for they creaked and groaned when she placed her trunk on them.
Fortunately, they made it up the stairs without falling through them and approached a door on the third floor. The green paint was peeling off that too, and a measly C-2 hung sideways off it. Violetta pulled it open without a word.
Morgan had barely caught a glimpse of tan hallway paint when two shots of blond hair attacked Violetta's legs. Morgan had her wand halfway out before she realized the blond shots were actually kids.
Violetta had siblings?
"Vi! Vi!" a screechy girl voice exclaimed. "You're finally back! Daniel was being so mean to me! He pulled my hair and stole my doll."
"Oh shut up, stupid girl," the boy attached to Violetta's legs muttered. "It was an accident," he insisted.
"Oh darlings," Violetta stooped to the floor, smiling as she wrapped both arms around her siblings. "Marti, I'll buy you a new doll, and Daniel, for goodness sakes, keep your hands to yourself."
Morgan stood awkwardly in the door way, taking the time to observe the rest of Violetta's house. The apartment seemed to be in better condition than the rest of the building, for the walls weren't peeling and Morgan thought she spied a strip of blue carpeting further in. But there was still the distinct smell of decay.
"Who is she?" Morgan turned her head to the voice, noticing a young girl that could have been fifteen standing at the end of the hallway. She held a spatula in one hand and wore an apron around her waist. She looked so much like Violetta that Morgan had to do a double take. The only difference was their eyes. This girl had big brown orbs as opposed to blue ones.
"Oh!" Violetta let out a delighted laugh, tugging her younger siblings upwards. "This is Leah Hume, a fellow classmate of mine."
The girl frowned, "So she's a freak, too?"
"April!" Marti cried from behind Violetta's legs, "that's a mean word!"
Daniel peered at her through his long hair suspiciously, though he nodded his head in agreement nonetheless.
Violetta immediately stiffened, her eyes cooling off instantly, "April, please—"
Morgan pushed past Violetta, rushing forward and grabbing April's free hand. She shook it with an exaggerated motion. "Yes ma'am, that's me. A certified freak. Pleasure to meet you!" She gave Violetta and her younger siblings a wink.
April's mouth popped open in shock, though seconds later she regained herself and snatched her hand back. She ignored Morgan, and instead glared at Violetta, "Dad won't be happy. Dinner is in thirty minutes."
Morgan watched the blonde girl walk away gracefully, her long hair swaying behind her. She forced herself to turn away and not glare, opting to kneel down and stick her hand out to Daniel and Marti, who seemed more at ease now.
"My name is Leah," she said, her eyes flickering to Violetta, who gave Daniel a slight push.
Daniel's hair was almost too dark to be called blonde, and his golden eyes were an odd shade. He was unique looking, especially when he couldn't decide whether to scowl or smile. He stuck out a grubby hand for her to shake.
Marti was much more outgoing. She flaunted her pink dress and nervously tugged at her pigtails when she offered Morgan her hand, a flurry of questions leaving her mouth. Did she have special powers like Violetta, could she make paper origami, and did she know that her eyes were just the cutest shade of blue?
Morgan grinned and answered the questions with good humor, more than used to how inquisitive little children could be. A small part of her longed for the children in the orphanage she grew up in, but for now Daniel and Marti were good replacements.
As soon as the kids left, presumably to go help their elder sister with dinner, Morgan turned to her friend. "You never told me you had siblings."
Violetta gave a humorless laugh. "I never told you a lot of things."
"Why?" Morgan wondered, curious. She followed as Violetta began leading them through the hallway, past the living room, and down to a wall lined with doors. She opened one and gestured for Morgan to enter.
It was a small bedroom with one bed in the corner and another make-shift one set up on the floor with blankets. It was plain white, with nothing decorative besides for a picture that sat on the bed table. It was one of Violetta with another woman, who Morgan could only guess to be her mother.
A tiny closet took up the right side of the room and then…that was it.
Violetta set her trunk on the bed and sighed. "Take a look around Morgan. This house isn't exactly Slytherin material."
"So what?"
"So what? I'm a half-blood too," she said coolly. "Just imagine what would happen to me at Hogwarts if this got out."
"Aw, Vi Vi, Morgan sat next to her friend with a grin, "I don't care about that stuff. And you shouldn't either. I think you're siblings are awesome, besides for the one that looks like she wants to gouge my eyes out with a spatula."
Violetta snorted, "April," she said sadly. "I'm sorry about her."
"Don't worry about it," Morgan waved her hand. "Let's just eat, eh?"
Violetta wrung her hands again, "About that…my father, is…well. Just don't give him any bother, okay?" She stood up suddenly and offered her hand. "Let's go."
---
As it turned out, Morgan didn't have to worry about Violetta's father. He didn't show up that night. In fact, he didn't show up the night after, either. He was a taboo in the household though. Daniel and Marti never asked about his whereabouts and Violetta froze whenever April mentioned him. Morgan could guess about why this was, but doing so made her sick.
Besides for that, life at the Fanding household was rather nice. April was as unapproachable as ever, but Daniel and Marti were delights. They wrestled with Morgan on the living room floor and eagerly took her out shopping at the corner store. They seemed especially enraptured with the stories Morgan told.
The time that wasn't spent with Daniel and Marti was spent with Violetta. She and Morgan went ice-skating on their first day, and talked afterwards far into the night. Violetta was like a completely different person at home—more open and kind then what Morgan was used to. She laughed freely, beamed freely, and appeared to even breathe easier. Morgan could see why Braxton was crazy about her.
But for the past two nights, when Violetta would drift off to sleep and Morgan would be kept up coughing, her mind would be plagued with thoughts of Tom. Would she go? Not go? What would be the consequences of each decision?
She didn't want her memories erased. No way. Even allowing Tom to enter her mind was dangerous. Should the answer should be easy.
But then she thought about how angry she was. He made her feel terrible and used, from the way he kissed her to the way he played her emotions to his advantage. She didn't think she could look at him, let alone fight with him against Grindelwald's men.
But despite that hardened resolve to never see Tom again, Morgan still found herself darting into a black market wizard drug shop. Today was the day Tom would go for the Necklace, and there she was buying tons of pills. Pills to ignore pain, pills to give her strength, and pills that caused large and dangerous spikes in adrenaline.
If she was going, (which she wasn't) those pills would be vital. The spasms that wracked her limbs and the coughs that shook her chest would be a hindrance in the mission. If she was going, (which she wasn't) she couldn't afford to be slowed down at all.
But even clutching the pills to her chest made her uneasy, and each tick of the clock that brought her closer to five pm made her ill.
Before their early dinner Violetta asked her about it, slipping into their room. "You seem worried."
Morgan clenched her fists, resisting the urge to fiddle with the bag of pills resting in her trunk. "Maybe I'm a little worried," she admitted. "I'm going to my old orphanage for a few days." The lie slipped off her tongue easily.
Violetta frowned, remembering the hateful way that Morgan had spoken about that place. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"When are you leaving?"
"Before five."
'Seriously, Morgan? Seriously!? You're going, going flouncing back to Riddle even after everything that's happened?'
Apparently.
She fought back a grimace.
'It's for the good of the mission. For the good of wizarding kind. I can't fail Dumbledore or Harry. That's the only reason I'm going.'
'Oh god, you're transparent. How the fuck have you managed to keep us alive for so long? One would think that Tom would be able to see right through you.'
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," Morgan sighed, pulling a hand through her hair.
"Well, if you say so." Violetta gave a small smile, "Come on, dinner is ready."
Morgan nodded, trailing after her friend until they reached the living room. A rickety wooden table sat in the center of the modest room, and already Violetta's siblings were seated, waiting to eat. April was holding a pot, dishing out rice with a small smile directed at Marti. At the end of the table sat a man Morgan hadn't seen before. It must have been Violetta's father.
He was fat, with a wild beard and glazed over blue eyes. He clutched a beer in one hand and a fork in another. "Violetta," he barked, "my darling daughter where is my hug?"
Violetta blanched, twisting around to send a questioning glare to April, who studiously avoided her gaze. When it became apparent that the younger girl wasn't going to answer the question of why their father was suddenly home, she stepped stiffly to her him, bending down slightly to accommodate his position. "Hello father," she said woodenly at the same time Morgan took a seat next to Daniel. "It's nice to see you again."
"I'll say. Never get to fucking see you during the year. We need to talk about pulling you out of that school" He wagged a fat finger at his child before he noticed their guest. "And who is this?"
Morgan raised a hand, "Leah Hume, nice to meet you sir."
Violetta's father frowned, "You paying for your own shit while you're here, aren't ya?"
Violetta winced, "Father," she said softly, sitting down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"No," he batted her hand away. "Don't touch me. I was asking Maggie here a question."
"Don't worry, I have my own money," Morgan gripped her fork and forced a smile.
"I have my own money what?"
Morgan furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.
"Damn it girl," a meaty hand slammed down on the table, "didn't those goddamn parents of yours teach you any manners? I have my own money, sir!"
"Father," Violetta said sternly, her eyes darkening.
"Shut up," her dad replied, looking eerily calm as he watched Morgan.
Daniel and Marti had their heads lowered, and April was clutching at the table, her skin a deathly pale color.
Morgan sighed, "I didn't have any parents."
"No parents!" the table shook again. "What type of whore was your mother that she gave you away without teaching you nothing? Goddamn women, I tell you. Dirty sluts all of them, look at my daughter!" He pointed at April, who appeared close to tears, "A filthy whore. Just like her mother."
Violetta rose to her feet, "That is enough Father!" she slammed her hands down on the table. "I think it's time you went to bed. You've just gotten home, and you're tired."
"How dare you!" her dad roared, bringing himself to his full height, which was pretty impressive. "How dare you speak to the man who provides for you like that?"
"Go to bed!"
"Go to bed, sir!" The resounding slap echoed through the room. Marti was sobbing and Daniel clutched at Morgan's arm like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. The tears finally fell from April's eyes.
"Daddy! Please, stop! Don't hurt her!" Marti was scrambling to her feet, attempting to run to her father when Morgan scooped her up in her arms.
The whole left side of Violetta's face was an angry red color, but besides that she looked unfazed. Only Marti's cries broke the silence.
Her father was looking at his hand as if he didn't recognize it. He glanced back at his daughter, "Look at what you made me do!" he seemed to be near tears himself. "Look!" He advanced on her, his steps stumbling. "I come home after some long days at work and this is what I get? An ungrateful daughter! Goddamn it!"
Morgan's grip on Marti tightened as her free hand darted to her pocket. She had her wand out instantly. "Don't move."
Violetta glanced at Morgan, and widened her eyes. She silently shook her head, but it was already too late. Her father spun around.
All of a sudden, his anger inflated, brewing around him like a storm. "You point that at me!? YOU DARE POINT THAT AT ME!?"
Daniel started crying then, too, his nose buried into Morgan's arm as he tried to drag her wand down. "Don't hurt Daddy!"
Morgan ignored him. "Yes, I dare point that at you. And I'll dare to hex you too if you don't step away from your daughter."
"Leah, please," Violetta said, the only one with a calm demeanor. "My father just needs some rest; he didn't mean to hit me."
Her dad swelled upwards, "Of course I didn't mean to hit my daughter. I would never do such a thing." He glared at Morgan ferociously. "Stop pointing that thing at me."
Morgan didn't lower her wand, "I think your father should leave now, Violetta. He isn't in his right mind."
Violetta's father swept a hand across the table, sending dishes flying off it. "You think you can tell me to leave my own house! I think not!" He kicked a few chairs out of his way, starting towards Morgan.
She prepared to curse him.
Suddenly someone much stronger was staying her arm. Violetta had darted around the table, forcefully pulling Morgan's arm down and holding out another hand to stop her dad. "Leah, I think you should leave."
Marti cried louder.
Violetta's father beamed. "That's my girl. Not at all like your whore of a mother or your sister, are ya?"
Violetta tightened her grip on Morgan, "No father. I'll show my friend the door. Please go to sleep, I'll make you more dinner and deliver it to you in bed."
"Damn right you will," he growled, "and clean up this goddamn mess too."
And with that, he stumbled off to bed.
---
Violetta let out a sigh, closing her eyes briefly before turning around and facing Morgan and the rest of her family. She spoke to April first, who looked sick, "April, honey, can you please make dad another plate of dinner—no, no, don't worry, I'll bring it in to him." She then kneeled down beside her younger siblings, each one clutching one of Morgan's appendages. "Now, now, my little darlings," she reached forward and gathered them in her arms, kissing their temples. "No more tears, Daddy is just sick. He'll be better in the morning, just like always, right? Daniel, I need you to be big and strong and take care of your sister. You can eat your dinners in your room, but just this once." She tapped each of their noses.
Her siblings scattered at her word, following her directions without so much as one question. Morgan was left slightly dumfounded as a better picture of Violetta Fanding formed in her mind. The young woman was so much more than the snotty Slytherin that she first appeared to be.
"Come, Leah, help me gather your things."
Morgan followed her without question, too, striding into their room and shutting the door behind them. "Violetta…" but before she could say anymore she saw her friend's tears. "Aw man."
Rushing over, Morgan draped her arms around the taller witch, letting her soundless sobs shake both of their bodies. "It's okay. You did good."
It was a few minutes before Violetta could speak, but when she did, it was with a steady voice. "I'm sorry about that. Father is just…"
"A dick, yeah, I noticed."
"No, no," Violetta pushed Morgan away and wiped away the tears that had already stopped falling. "He just has a problem. Mother was witch, and when she left he was devastated."
"That's no excuse for hitting you," Morgan protested, sitting on the bed and watching as Violetta pulled out her wand to heal her bruise. "And you shouldn't heal that, let him see what he's done to you."
"No," Fanding whispered, "I can't do that. He won't even remember what happened tomorrow, and he'll just feel bad if he sees the bruise."
"So what!? Let him feel bad! Violetta you can't—"
"Yes, Leah, I can. I'm sorry, but you really should leave for your orphanage now."
Morgan observed Violetta's stiff figure and red eyes, understanding that it wasn't meanness that made her ask for her to leave. It was simple really: Violetta may have been strong about everything else, but when it came to her father she was weak. Morgan could understand that.
"Ah well, it's almost five anyways." She smiled brightly before kneeling down beside her trunk. "You don't mind if I leave the majority of my stuff here, do you? I'll pick it up after tomorrow, I'm just going to grab some money." She reached into the trunk to grab the bag filled with pills.
Violetta sighed, further composing herself. "But of course, Hume. I should expect you back by tomorrow then?"
Would she be back by tomorrow? Would she even be alive by tomorrow? Eh, who knew? "Yeah, tomorrow, three days, something like that. I'll be back to get it though, don't worry."
Violetta nodded, folding her hands behind her back and beginning to lead Morgan toward the front door, "Listen, Leah, about this…I—"
Morgan clasped her hands on Violetta's shoulders, "Hey, listen Vi Vi, you're my best friend, probably my only friend. You don't need to apologize. I understand. I don't like it, but I understand. I'll be back soon, say goodbye to the brats for me, eh?"
Violetta dragged her in for a quick hug, clutching her tightly for a moment before pulling away. "Goodbye."
---
Morgan paced up and down, her eyes locked on one, tiny brick. Should anyone have chosen to walk down the alley at that point, they might have been slightly intimated by the intense expression on her face. But thankfully, she was alone.
One minute to five.
She clenched the bag of pills in her pocket, shuffling her feet in her newly bought trousers and boots. Was she really going to go? Aw fuck, it sure seemed like it.
For the good of wizarding kind.
Thirty seconds to five.
She let out a tremendous breath, toeing the ground and contemplating just how fucked up she was to do this.
Fifteen seconds to five.
Her mind flashed briefly back to James and the look on his face. She had to go; she had to justify breaking his heart like that. If she didn't go, all those cruel things she said to him would have been for nothing.
Five pm.
But could she handle seeing Tom? God he infuriated her. She hated what he did to her and yet here she was.
Ten seconds past five.
'I'm doing this for the good of the wizarding world.'
Fifteen seconds past five.
'You could always steal it from him. You don't have to go. There are other ways.'
'No! There are no other ways. This is the only way! I'm doing this for the good of wizarding kind, DAMN IT.'
Twenty-five seconds past five.
Who was she kidding? She knew exactly who she was doing this for.
She touched the blue brick.