LIFE AFTER DEATH:
Part Two: Christmas.
Tom tiredly pushed his shirt buttons through the holes, suppressing the urge to yawn as he had gotten up earlier than usual to sort out the dinner arrangements with the house-elves. It was a special day today; it was Christmas, not that Tom usually cared about the season, but Ginny had asked him oh so sweetly whether they could make it special for Leo, and after much deliberation, Tom finally agreed. But, he had decided to make it special for Ginny as well, and he looked over her dressing table, where there were 5 velvet boxes containing necklaces made from the rarest jewels in the world, and Tom's men had gone to a lot of trouble to scour the Earth for them.
He smiled as he walked over to where Ginny was laying, fast asleep, and he bent over her, kissing her unmoving lips gently so as not to wake her. She had grown bigger now, and they suspected the baby would be born sometime in February, so that meant waiting longer. Tom stood straight, smoothing out his shirt, and leaving for the kitchens; he felt like taking a walk, hence not calling for a house-elf.
As Tom walked down the corridors, he decided to see if his son was still sleeping, and when he checked he saw that he was. Tom noticed how vulnerable Leo looked as he slept, and Tom hoped he had not looked so vulnerable like that when he was younger. It was Ginny's influence, he thought as he continued walking down the hall to the large and extravagantly decorated staircase. Tom had tried to teach his 2 year old son the importance of commanding respect and authority, but he had simply stared dumbly up at him, chewing at the sleeve of his expensive robe. Ginny had laughed, rather mockingly, as she saw what was happening, and picked up Leo, taking him away from Tom.
"He doesn't care about that stuff," she had sniggered as she pressed her finger on his small nose, "he just wants his toys, don't you?" she said to Leo, who nodded his head, still with a dumb expression on his face.
Tom hated it when Ginny knew things that he didn't, how was he supposed to know what the damn kid wanted when he uttered nonsense like 'snate', what the hell was a 'snate'? The kid was crazy; Tom had caught him trying to jump off the banister, and he had even found him sitting on top of one of the bookcases in the library, sleeping! He wondered if Ginny had told Leo to do those things just to annoy him, but Ginny was too protective of him to even think about asking him to do that. Ah, well, the kid must be crazy then.
Tom had finally reached the kitchens, and as soon as he had pushed the small oak door open, all the house-elves lined up hastily, bowing in unison, and eagerly awaiting their orders. He didn't know why people punished their house-elves, they were obedient, and unquestioning; they were perfect servants. "I want breakfast at the usual time," he began, "and I want lunch made for Ginny only. Now, for the dinner, I want three meats; turkey, ham, and beef, and for the vegetables, I want cabbage, brussels, broccoli, and cauliflower, and make sure there are two full plates of roast potatoes, and Yorkshire puddings."
Whilst Tom was instructing them, the house-elves heads were nodding up and down so fast, it was a wonder that their necks hadn't snapped. "For the pudding, make Ginny and Leo a small trifle. Is all this understood?"
"Yes, sire!" they said all at the same time, bowing low, and once Tom had turned to leave the kitchen, they all began their duties.
Tom walked back down the corridor from which he came, and wondered whether Ginny would appreciate what he had done for her, she had asked him to make it special. When Tom arrived back in the bedroom he saw that Ginny no longer occupied the large, over-sized bed, but the sound of running water filled his ears, and he knew that she must be washing. To pass time, he picked a dress out for Ginny to wear, choosing a sunflower yellow one with long sleeves and a deep, round neck.
Ginny came out of the bathroom, wearing his black silk bathrobe over her blue chemise, she had tied the sash above her stomach, and one of the sleeves had slipped off her shoulder. Tom thought she looked better in it than he did as he held out his hand to her, gesturing for her to take it.
"Come, Ginny," he said in a firm voice, "I want you to see the presents I've gotten you."
She took his hand and let herself be led to her dressing table where the velvet boxes lay untouched. "What is it?" she said quietly.
"Open them and you'll see," he replied, and he watched her as she gingerly unhooked the catch on one of the boxes, gasping softly at what was inside, and tentatively touching the jewels adorning the otherwise simple necklace. She proceeded to open the rest, but with less enthusiasm, and she simply stood there. "Do you like them?" Tom questioned, his hand on her exposed shoulder.
"Oh, er, yes," she muttered.
"It took ages to find them, Ginny," Tom said in a hard tone. Didn't she like them? What was wrong with them? They were perfect in his eyes. "And I had the jewels especially crafted to fit the necklaces."
"OK," she answered simply. "I'll wear this one," she said, pointing to one with a green-coloured gemstone in the middle of it, and, with that, she turned from him and picked up the yellow dress that Tom had lain out on the bed. He stared at her as she kept her back to him whilst she got dressed, his sharp features hardening at the way she had accepted his gifts. The kid better like his presents, he had to ask Ginny what to get, and she better not have been wrong, because another rejection would make him very, very angry.
Leo did like his presents; they were simply an assortment of toys. Tom couldn't remember himself ever wanting so many toys when he was a young boy. All Tom had ever played with was the old abacus that he had found under his bed at the orphanage. When Ginny had taken Leo downstairs with her to show him his new toys, he had cried out in excitement and ran to them, clumsily so, and looking as though he might have fallen over in the process.
Now they sat to eat the enormous dinner the house-elves had made, with Tom at the head of the table, and Ginny on his right hand side. Leo sat beside Ginny defiantly, not wanting to sit away from his mother.
Halfway through the meal, Leo began talking his nonsense to Ginny, who seemed to understand what he was saying perfectly, and answered with ease, and listened with true intent. Tom just ate his food, staring at Ginny, and feeling something stir within the depths of his stomach, it felt familiar; he had felt it before. Why didn't she talk to him like that? Why did she seem to prefer her son's nonsensical chatter to his intelligent one? So many unfathomable questions that needed to be answered. He shook himself out of his thoughts to see Leo with his head on Ginny's stomach.
"Can you hear her, Leo?" she said gently.
"Baby," he answered in a happy voice.
"Can you feel her kicking?" Ginny questioned in the same gentle tone.
Leo nodded his head fastidiously. Tom reached his hand out, he wanted to feel her kick, and he placed his hand on the vacant space of Ginny's stomach. Ginny looked up at him with a blank expression as the baby kicked against his hand, and Tom just stared back, his eyes holding a sharp expression as he said in a low, firm voice; "You were supposed to tell me when she began moving, Ginny," he pressured his hand on her abdomen, reminding her that this was his child, "and don't give me any excuses," he muttered as he saw her mouth open to say something. He stood then, leaving his empty dinner plate, and exiting the dining room; it was so sudden a thing to do that Ginny was at a loss with herself.
She watched him leave, and felt that annoying pity again, the pity that she shouldn't feel for a murderer. Ginny knew why she felt sorry for him; she was a type of person who didn't like when love failed, or when someone loved another, but they didn't love them back; she, herself, knew it well. But, Ginny didn't go after him; she stayed and ate the rest of her dinner, and helped Leo eat his pudding.
Tom had gone to his study, his cloak billowing threateningly as he had walked, and now he sat in his leather armchair, downing a glass of whiskey. Never again, he thought, never again will I make any effort for this stupid day. He had only done it for her, and she did this; he could handle the necklace thing, but she hadn't told him that the baby had started to move, when she had specifically told him that she would. The girl needed to be put back in her place, and that place was beneath him, in every aspect of the word.
He stood up then, undoing the clasps on his cloak, and placing it on the arm of the chair. Tom walked over to the bay window, where it looked out onto the snow-covered gardens, and he glanced down onto the grounds upon seeing a flash of red at the corner of his eye; it was Ginny, and she was wearing her black fur cloak, and she was watching Leo playing about in the snow ahead of her. Tom pushed open one of the small windows, immediately feeling a rush of cold air blow through his hair, but now he could hear if they were talking or not.
"Leo," he heard Ginny call, "look," she pointed upwards, "can you see the little bird in the tree?" He nodded in acknowledgement. "It's called a Robin, can you say 'Robin'?"
"Ro… Rorin!" he exclaimed with a smile.
"Close enough."
Tom was at an advantage now; his daughter would be born with him there, and this time, Ginny wouldn't be able to make her adverse to him. He would teach her appropriately, and find out ways to educate her as a baby, and she wouldn't talk incoherent nonsense all the time. This would be a fresh start.
"Mama, where Daddy go?" Tom wondered why the hell Ginny had taught him to say 'Daddy', it was meant to be 'Father'.
"I don't know, darling," she answered gently. "Maybe you can ask him tomorrow." Ginny reached out for the young boy's hand, and she bent down slowly to kiss him on the head. "Come on, it's starting to snow, Leo, and Laura is going to give you bath."
"No!" he said loudly, although continuing to be led away by Ginny.
Tom felt that nasty feeling in his stomach again as he lost sight of Ginny; he deserved her affections after all that he had done for her. He had let her see her tiresome brother, Ron, and her Mudblood friend, Granger, every month, and he had even located her other brothers, Fred and George. He wanted her to act like the wife she was, and he would make her, no matter what.
Ginny ran a brush through her hair, humming a tune she had once heard at Hermione's house; she was grateful for these times alone, having just put Leo to bed, since he was sometimes rather demanding, much like Tom was. Except they demanded very different things. Then Ginny wondered if she had spoken too soon as the bedroom door opened.
"What is wrong with you?" she heard Tom say.
"What?" she said in a bewildered tone.
"What is wrong with you?" he repeated in a much harsher tone than he had before. "I've made it special, like you asked, yet you take no notice of what I've done for you."
"I didn't ask you to do it for me," Ginny stated matter-of-factly, making Tom angrier than he already was, "I asked you to do it for Leo, and if you hadn't noticed, he was very appreciative."
"And the baby," he continued, "when did she start moving, Ginny?"
"Last week," she replied bluntly.
"Last week?" he hissed. "And why didn't you tell me?" he said in a threatening voice, stepping closer to her slowly.
"I-I don't know," she said quietly, beginning to realise that Tom had become his old self again, the old self that would hurt her; she hadn't seen him like that since before she was pregnant, and it seemed so long ago.
"You don't know," Tom said with a short, cold laugh. "Perhaps, Ginny, you noticed that I haven't laid a finger on you in case I harmed the baby, and you thought you could get away with enraging me, well, let me remind you, dear, that I will put you in your place." Ginny flinched away from him at his violent tone. "And there it is," he whispered in deadly voice, "the fear that I once relished, maybe I can learn to love it again." He gripped her wrist hard, causing her to wince in pain, and he saw that she laid a hand protectively over her stomach. "You dare to shield my own child from me, Ginevra?" he said in a loud voice, and he yanked her closer to him, receiving a hard, resounding backhand to her face. "My own child!" he shouted at her.
Ginny cried out in agony as a bruise already began to form on her cheek, and she would have sunk to the floor had it not been for Tom's tight grip on her wrist. It stung even as slight tears rolled down her cheek, and she reached up to touch the swollen bruise, only to recoil in pain once more. "I hate you," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"What did you say?" he said, yanking her harder toward him.
"I said I hate you!" she shrieked.
And she received another slap. "No, you don't," he shouted, "you love me!" He shook her by the arms, ignoring her thrashes of resistance, his face showing the extent of his anger, but his eyes showing something else. "You will always love me…" he murmured in a calmer voice, his hands running down her arms to settle on her abdomen, and then to wrap around her, "always…" he murmured, his forehead resting on her shoulder. His breathing was ragged, and the hotness of it hit Ginny's chest, making her want to move away from him, but he held fast. Tom lifted his head then, and Ginny stared wide-eyed at him; the ferociousness had gone, and he looked down at her thoughtfully. "You're crying," he said quietly, and lifted his hand to her face, causing her to wince in terror, but all he did was touch her swollen cheek. "I hurt you," he covered her cheek with his hand, despite the agony she was in, and he kissed her once on the lips, then, the pain was gone.
Ginny waited until he removed his hand, and she touched her cheek; it wasn't swollen anymore… he must have healed it. It didn't stop her from crying though, he was still there, still in her life, ruining everything for her, and yet she still felt sorry for him. He left her standing there as he walked over to the balcony doors; it was dark out now, and the clouds had dispersed to reveal a perfectly starry night. She stared at him, looking very ethereal indeed, his dark hair contrasting starkly with the paleness of his skin, and she walked over to where he was. "Tom," she said quietly, not understanding why she was doing this, "the baby's kicking."
Dracoandme: Well, she said it, but obviously, Tom didn't really take any notice.
HarryGinnyfan23: Thanks, I'm glad you liked chapter 1, and I hope you like this chappie.
Amalia Bradley: It's 'Warfare', thanks for your review anyway:-)
Maron-chan: You're right, it won't be as long as the previous story, as they are only little one-shots. Please review again.
A/N: Sorry to those who I didn't reply to, but I am really grateful for your reviews, so thanks to everyone that reviewed anyway, and I might reply on the next chapter. Please R&R. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. 8 Reviews please, thatnk you. Reviews are a bit like being paid, you see.