Author's Note:

Updating more than one chapter at once because a) the previous one is short and b) had to make up my absence somehow. Check back to make sure you didn't miss chapters six and seven.

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Small Escapes


In which the twins are perpetually...misplaced, to the consternation of Mrs. Cole. Yes, that's it, misplaced.

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Mrs. Cole was forced to admit that among all of the orphans, none could probably fit their surnames as well as the Riddle twins.

At a glance, they were unexpectedly well-behaved children, though not more obedient than usual. She had scolded Rosie for failing to watch the younger kids when it was her turn to do so, ignoring the girl's protests that it was the twins that were impossible to catch (the girl had always daydreamed too easily). It had resulted in their escape from the room and Mrs. Cole catching them listening to the radio in her office.

Not long after that, she had to reprimand Talbot for the same problem when she noticed that they were in the garden alone without the company of older children—and of all the things they could be doing, they were sitting quietly side-by-side with their eyes closed. It was uncanny. To Talbot's credit he kept his silence through her words, even when she could read his feelings of unfairness and the disagreement in his eyes. The last straw happened when they could apparently outwit even Meredith, the most vigilant and dedicated young minder the orphanage had ever known.

"Talbot, don't tell me you lost them again?" Mrs. Cole asked as she dropped by the nursery. She had glanced around and found that the usual suspects were missing again. The thirteen year old boy minding the younger children harrumphed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I've said this before, Mrs. Cole. They run and hide real canny, like a fox." Talbot said, barely hiding his sullen glare before he sighed. "Do you know anyone that can hold 'em if they didn't want it?"

It said volumes that she didn't remind him to stop pouting before she moved on again in greater haste. Talbot had a point. The only time they didn't get away from the nursery was when the twins were too tired to do so and was sleeping. Surely someone had succeeded in watching them, right? They were still small children…

Regardless of what she thought, doubt settled when she realised she couldn't recall a single name. Nobody had managed to keep an eye on them for long, not since they turned four. She was forced to consider that perhaps the boy was right after all. They were rather… difficult to hold on to.

She'd only gone through three rooms when a boy younger than Talbot caught up with her, his eyes wild and his breathing short.

"Mrs. Cole! Mrs. Cole!" Greg called, pulling her out of her thoughts. She turned around at the gangly, rushing preteen and almost couldn't believe her eyes.

"Greg Nesbitt, you know very well that no running is allowed in the hallways!"

Greg Nesbitt grew up as a sickly little boy, forced to entertain himself with what books he could find instead of running around like his friends. His love of literature had stayed with him over the years. To see him heedless of the rules like one of the hooligans was a sight too strange for her to contemplate.

"Please Mrs. Cole, please come with me even if it's only this once."

He had held onto her hand and started tugging before she had said anything. She would've corrected him of his presumption and gave him a telling-off about it if she wasn't also curious.

"You have to tell him he can't play with the books, Mrs. Cole, because he won't listen to me and he's going to go and ruin everything."

She had to hold from sniffing at the statement. Ruin everything? She was perfectly aware of the habit of boys to make-believe adventures for themselves, and she hoped Greg did not get carried away in whatever fancy happened to be in vogue among them. She couldn't imagine that there might be anything in Wool's Orphanage that can remotely threaten British Empire, she thought dryly, though if Greg was playing soldiers too zealously…

They turned into the study hall, and Mrs. Cole understood the issue at a glance. Sitting in front of a pile of books was one Thomas Riddle, and beside him was his twin. By the way they angled towards each other, one would think that the black-haired twin was teaching the other, but it wouldn't make sense at their age.

"He's going to go drool over everything!" Greg declared.

The twins looked up. Anthony looked unamused while a frown etched its way on young Thomas' face. It was at odds with his cherubic looks and small hands that Mrs. Cole had to stare for more than a few moments to make sure that the expression was actually there.

"We're reading," he insisted, before staring at Greg. "Could you please be quieter?"

Mrs. Cole's eyebrows rose at that. She was sure that she hadn't imagined the dry and cutting tone that accompanied it.

Greg spluttered, never having been put down by younger kids that often. "Stop pretending! I know what you're doing. You think it makes the parents like you if you were nice, and quiet, and was always reading. It doesn't. They want children that are perfectly charming too! And the two of you are lot of trouble that you're certainly not. I heard Meredith say it."

The two smaller children were staring at Greg with different amounts of surprise, but it was nothing compared to what Mrs. Cole felt as she strode right up to him and pulled him back from looming over the Riddle twins.

"Greg! I did not just hear you say such words to the twins! What have you got to say for yourself?"

Underneath her stern expression, Mrs. Cole felt an even larger amount of worry and concern for all her charges. It was one of the least spoken rules of the orphanage; no one should ever say words that cast doubts on a child's possibility of being adopted. This rule was certainly also one of the most fundamental. All the kids knew it, even the younger ones. An orphan's fear of abandonment was thick and visceral. It was hard to belief that Greg out of all people said it, and with an amount of vitriol that she couldn't even imagine him having—certainly not to kids so young and impressionable.

She took a deep breath and spoke in a much calmer voice.

"Greg? Please tell me what happened. I know you're a better person than this, Greg, I've seen you read stories to Marian and Fred. You're—"

Greg burst into frustrated tears and ran away, leaving an increasingly confused Mrs. Cole in his wake. She gazed at the twins; Anthony seemed remorseful as his gaze followed Greg's path, while Thomas was thoughtful. Something was still missing and the incongruity of the situation prickled the edge of her senses. What bothered Greg so much that he blew up towards two four years-olds?

Her breath caught in her throat when she noticed something else. She had been too relieved for their quietness that she hadn't thought twice about it when she walked in, and she'd only noticed it properly now. Why had they been so unbothered by Greg's words?

They didn't even look at her for support, nor each other. It did not affect them. As lost in their own thoughts as they were right now, it was as if the room, its inhabitants, and everything else around them could stop existing and they might not even notice.

"Mrs. Cole, are you alright?" It was Thomas who asked that. His words were a little stilted and the tone was oddly imperative. She appreciated the thought and effort all the same; it was better to encourage him to practice more often than to quell his efforts with too-harsh a criticism. She shook her head and smiled.

"I'm fine, thank you, I just got carried away remembering things," she said. "Are you alright?"

There was a line creasing his brow now, "Of course I am. Why shouldn't I?"

He honestly doesn't know why I'm asking, she thought, feeling more off-kilter. It began to feel more and more like she had found an important key whose door she had no idea about. Where does it lead to, and what does it hide? She heard some shuffling to the side and found Anthony had stood up and gotten around the pile of books on the floor.

"Do you think you know where Greg is, Mrs. Cole?" Anthony asked. She hid her surprise at that.

"Perhaps if I look for him first. Why?"

"I think we've offended him. We can apologise, and he can feel better," Anthony said. She heard a snort from his twin. His hands were clasped in front of him, but she was certain if it wasn't, he would be folding it in front of his chest.

"Why should we apologise? We minded our business. He got offended on his own."

"He was just trying to help," Anthony said.

"And we thanked him and said we're fine alone," his twin finished. "And we are. We didn't lie."

They fell into a staring contest. There was stubbornness in the set of Anthony's jaws, and challenging looks on Thomas' side. They went back and forth for a while, their faces so alive that it was mesmerising to see. For all the impressions and reactions passing back and forth between them, she could swear that they were having a silent conversation somehow. She shook her head and cleared herself of that thought. Oh stop that Jemima, she thought to herself. You're tired and your mind is coming up with things that aren't there.

They were probably just holding a staring contest with each other. Yes, that's it.

"Fine," Thomas bit out. From his frown, it was clear that he may be conceding the point but only grudgingly. "Let's apologise and get it over with."

Anthony had a small smile on his lips. She was rather surprised that he wasn't crowing his victory aloud, or at least be self-satisfied, but he didn't. He only nodded in acknowledgment to his brother, nodded to Mrs. Cole, and walked on ahead. Thomas was still clenching and unclenching his fist before he took a deep breath and sighed. The dominant traces of anger ebbed away from his face, leaving him looking resigned.

"Mrs. Cole," he said stiffly, and it was almost polite this time, before he walked away to follow his twin.

She shook her head to herself and decided to find Greg as well. She'd find out more, somehow, even if it meant trying to find out who the Riddle's parents are. She began to realise why their mere existence was a mismatch to her—they didn't act like kids their age.

'-

Why do we need to apologise to Greg, again? Tom asked, projecting it in his mind to his twin as they stared each other down.

Mrs. Cole was standing somewhere to the side, undoubtedly concerned about them after Greg's outburst to them, but he paid her no mind.

He'd be fine. His ego had just taken a beating when he realised that our reading materials are certainly unlike his. Tom said. It wasn't as if he'd decided to make an example out of stupid Stubb's pet again, was it? This was practically harmless.

He had taken to explaining what the world was like to the blond and included with that is the World War that he knew would come to pass during his Hogwarts years. So was it any wonder that he pulled his twin along to listen to the news on the radio in Mrs. Cole's office? (The one in the living room was usually commandeered to play songs and radio dramas by the older kids). Was it any wonder that he dragged newspapers with him as he tried to remember whether the particular tension over the continent had a more-or-less muggle explanation, or whether it had the marks of Grindelwald's rise all over it?

He could hear Anakin's mental snort. That had been our mistake. We should've been more careful.

He'd get over it. It's not as if he'd matter in the grand scheme of things. Tom pointed out. We'd go to Hogwarts and get out of his hair and he's free to continue his mundane life as before.

Considering that we're the ones with more experience than him, we should've known better. We should've adjusted to him better than expect him to be able to adjust to us. There was that familiar tinge of restlessness again, and Tom knew his twin well enough to know that Anakin had been as annoyed with Greg as he was when the boy was hovering over them. But why was he so insistent about the apology? And why did he have to stare at Tom that way? He wasn't the one throwing a tantrum.

He's a complete waste of efforts—

We're going to apologise because we're doing things the right way and not the easy way, Anakin said. Tom knew his twin had also thought Greg had been somewhat condescending in trying to help them—he could feel the emotions clearly through their bond. Yet Anakin persevered, and contradiction in his apparent stance was starting to vex Tom as well. The blond continued.

You know how the Dark Side tempts you with shortcuts, right? A Fall starts more often through a hundred decisions made wrong, than a single major one.

Tom raised an eyebrow. And what does letting the frail self-esteem of a young Greg set on its own, had anything to do with a decision of Dark and Light?

Pride, Anakin answered, and its slippery slope. It meant deciding that our pride is more important than a young, insignificant boy's. Why is not apologising to him more important than admitting that we might've made a small, careless slip in our cover when it comes to him? The mistake was clearly more ours than his.

Tom tightened his lips into a thin line. It wasn't pride if it was well-justified skill difference. Yet he had to admit that one of the reasons he didn't even consider about apologising was because he felt that Greg was so far beneath him as to be insignificant.

Fine, he bit out, but you owe me one.

A mental shrug, no problem.

When Anakin walked out of the room, Tom sighed, greeted Mrs. Cole, and walked out to prove that his pride was not a problem. Nope. None at all.

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