Evelyn lasted 24 hours. Less than that, probably.
It wasn't that she wanted to come crawling back to him like she did. No, she would have much preferred to beat his taunts about her lasting a week and she would have... and then the storm started.
Evelyn had never done well with storms. Never. She could say that a part of her didn't like the booming thunder because it was thundering on the first Halloween her grandmother hit her or because a large lightning bolt hit a tree in the backyard and fried it to ash instantly, scaring her indefinitely but... both those would be half-truths.
Because the reason Evelyn couldn't stand thunderstorms, the reason she cowered with every bright light followed by a loud boom, the reason her heart fluttered with fear as she trembled to the sound of every new clap in the sky... was her father. She wasn't sure how she knew—whether it was an old sort of magic that tied their two souls together or if someone had perhaps let it slip once in conversation—but Evelyn knew from the bottom of her heart that her father died in a thunderstorm. And there was a part of her that was scared she would too.
It was irrational, she knew that. Evelyn had spent many long, lonely nights wishing she was dead so she could be reunited with Regulus again so why should the idea of perishing during a storm matter to her? No, it wasn't rational but fears weren't ever rational at all. They consumed you to the point of no return until your mind was flooded by nothing but complete and utter terror as you gazed helplessly into the beyond, into a land occupied by nothing by fear and dread and death. Evelyn wasn't afraid of much but she was absolutely terrified of thunderstorms.
And that night, while she slept restlessly in her bed—part of her wishing she was once again surrounded by the scent of darkness and musk—a storm rolled in.
She woke to the light pitter-patter sound of rain. She wasn't surprised. After all, Mattheo and her had constantly remarked on the incoming clouds yesterday by the water. And professors had been warning the students to stay indoors for the next week in case the storm got particularly nasty. Care of Magical Creatures classes had been cancelled, not that she would have ever taken that class anyway as animals had a habit of hating her and avoiding her at all costs. Quidditch wasn't cancelled but then again, Quidditch was never cancelled, something that Mattheo, the Slytherin team beater, was all too happy about. He told her that Tom used to play Quidditch—"He was a wicked seeker; it was like the snitch was afraid not to be caught by him! Honestly, it probably was"—but he quit after last season to focus on being head boy. "Or maybe to focus on hunting his victims." Mattheo said it as a joke but they both knew he didn't mean it as one.
She, however, would be happily content to remain inside. Her waves always tangled messily in the water so she tried to avoid getting wet whenever she could. Plus, she didn't have any classes outside so the only reason to venture beyond the castle walls was for a breath of fresh air and she would be fine without that for a few days. Yes, the soft drumming of rain on her window would make for rather pleasant reading, she reasoned, so perhaps this week of showers would be rather pleasant. She was almost happy with the turn of events.
And then the thunder started.
It, of course, waited until the most inconvenient time to begin. After she had spent a day distracted by classes, lunch with her cousin, an evening reading in the library, and a rather lively supper surrounded by, again, her cousin and his friends. After she had bid them all goodnight, took a long, relaxing bath surrounded by the calming scent of dewy bubble soap. After she had brushed her wet hair and crawled into her favorite nightgown, surrounded by the familiar (and somewhat disappointing) feeling of her sheets. After she was alone.
The first bit of thunder came in with a bang—pun not intended. It was incredibly loud, so loud that it shook the walls of the dungeon as it echoed through the valley. Evelyn jumped in bed and clutched her duvet to her chest as if the thin fabric could protect her from the storm.
It's just thunder. It can't harm you. It's just thunder. It can't— Another one, this one even louder. A whimper escaped her lips as she began to be flooded by images from a memory that wasn't her own. The drowning feeling of a murky lake. The sound of lightning crackling in the air. The echo of large booms in the sky that shook the ground. The feeling of death creeping up on her until it swallowed her whole.
She closed her eyes tightly and wrapped her arms around herself, now sitting up in the bed. "It's just thunder. It cannot harm you. It's just thunder," she muttered under her breath. "It cannot harm you."
And then another clap rattled her room so hard that books fell off her nightgown and a quiet scream escaped her lips. "It's just a storm." But her voice was so small, so unsure, that even she didn't believe herself.
As lightning continued to crackle through the sky, tears came to her eyes. They stung bitterly, just another reminder of her fear. Look at you, they mocked. Crying at a storm. At just a little noise. But it wasn't a little noise, not to hear.
Fears weren't rational. She shouldn't have to excuse them, shouldn't have to belittle them. Storms terrified her, they always had. And Evelyn realized that there was only one place she would ever feel safe during one.
No. You can't. You shouldn't, she scolded herself. You'd be disturbing him. You'd be signing away your bedroom. You'd be proving him right. You'd be embarrassing yourself over just a little storm.
But that was the thing: this storm wasn't little. In the years to come, the professors would speak about that one horrible December storm in 1993 in awe, as if they couldn't quite believe that they survived it. "It was awful," one would say to another. "I can hardly believe the castle is still standing."
Her heart was fluttering in fear, her stomach was turning over in knots, tears were escaping down her cheeks, and her body trembled in the bed. So when another loud bit of thunder echoed through the sky—the loudest one she had ever heard in her life, a noise she felt in her very core—Evelyn shot out of bed, wrapped her lacy robe around her body, and ran down the stairs.
Down, down, down. Down to the deepest part of the dungeons. Down to the furthest room in the furthest corridor. Down to Tom, the one person who could make her feel safe when she was so utterly terrified.
Her bare feet shivered against the cold of the stone and yet she hardly seemed to notice. Because the further she went down the stairs, the further into the boys' dormitories she ventured, the further away the storm seemed to be. It was loud still, incredibly so, and yet the thick stone seemed to muffle some of the noise.
Or perhaps it was just that a part of her soul knew that she was about to be with a man who would never let any harm befall her, not even a little bit of thunder.
The knock on the door was soft, quiet yet frantic with panic clearly laced through each rap. The door swung open almost instantly. Tom appeared wearing nothing but some black sweatpants. His chiseled chest was on display. It looked like he was carved from marble, his skin pale and smooth and fully toned to the point where Evelyn almost forgot it was storming at all.
At first, he was glowering at her in his brooding, cold way but when he saw her, his eyes instantly softened. "Little Dove," he said softly. "What are you doing here? You still have a week—"
But she interrupted him by wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her head in his chest. Tom stiffened and put his hand on her chin. Then, he lifted it up so she was staring into his unreadable dark eyes. "You're crying," he growled dangerously. "Why are you crying? Who hurt you?"
Before she could answer, another loud clap of thunder echoed through the room. Evelyn whimpered and tightened her arms around him. Tom dropped her chin and let her bring her head back to her chest, using the hand to instead cup the back of her head and hold her there.
"You're afraid of thunder?" She nodded silently. "So you're not afraid of the Dark Lord's son but you're afraid of noise in the sky?" Again, she nodded.
Tom sighed, though not judgementally. It was almost as if he was relieved to see her again, accepting with that breath to take care of her. "Come, my darling." He led her to the bed and sat down on the duvet before pulling her onto his lap. She said nothing, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around her neck. Evelyn's head found her way to Tom's neck. As soon as she buried it there, he began to stroke her hair, running his fingers through the strands. The waves were practically straight so it was easy for him to play with the locks.
Another clap of thunder. Evelyn whimpered again. "It's just thunder, Little Dove. Just a noise."
"I know but..." She trailed off. She felt a presence in her head, a presence both warm and dark. Tom. He seemed to be searching her mind for the words she couldn't say. Then, she felt him slowly pull away.
"Quies," Tom muttered under his breath. She pulled away from his neck to see a charm slowly leaving his wand and surrounding the room. The Quiet Room spell, a difficult charm that muffled the sound of a room. It kept noises in and out, which made it obviously useful to most of the Hogwarts population. Evelyn had never cast it herself but Tom did it like a natural. "There. Any thunder will be soft, like the beat of a drum."
She looked into his dark eyes. He was staring at her in an unfamiliar way, drawing her into the black depths like a lake she couldn't help but drown in. "Thank you," she whispered, never breaking his gaze.
He cupped her cheek and stroked it with his thumb. "Anything for you, my darling."
She smiled and nuzzled his hand. She'd always enjoyed how cold and soft they were. His skin was... oh, Merlin. His skin. It was then that Evelyn remembered that Tom was shirtless, something that shouldn't have made her blush considering he fucked her face only yesterday and yet it did.
He noticed the redness on her cheeks and raised an eyebrow. "Something bothering you, Evelyn?" Yes, hot and bothering me, she muttered to herself. But, of course, she forgot that Tom could somehow hear everything she said in her mind, which meant that he heard that. Great.
His eyes darkened. "Be careful with your thoughts, Little Dove. You never know who might be listening."
Her cheeks became warm again and she looked away. "You're the only one who would."
"Yes and right now, your thoughts are becoming very dangerous, Little Dove."
She pursed her lips. "Why do you call me that?"
"Little Dove?"
"Yes. It was the first thing you called me. Why?"
He stayed silent and stroked his thumb on her cheek. Then, he said softly, almost tenderly, "Many of the wizarding families we stayed with were Christian so they made us read the Bible. I usually skimmed it because I didn't care about its silly little stories but I remember one about a man who was in a dark place, lost at sea. I guess I resonated with him because I was lost without my father, with a little brother to take care of, and nowhere to go. But after weeks, after forty-seven long, he sent out a dove and she returned with an olive branch. She brought him hope, happiness, and a new beginning.
"When I saw you in that hallway, you looked like a wounded dove. So beautiful, so small, and so sad. I could tell, even then, that you were alone. Doves mate for life and... and I think it was my soul's way of recognizing you as mine. At that moment, when I looked into my eyes, I knew. You were my hope, my happiness, my new beginning. My Little Dove."
Evelyn couldn't help the tears that came to her eyes. He really saw her like that? As hope and happiness, as a new beginning? His soulmate?
"Oh, now I've made you cry with my pathetic ramblings," he muttered, wiping away her tears with the pad of his thumb.
She shook her head. "They're happy tears. Tom... I don't know what to say."
"Say you're mine."
"I've always been yours. Always. Long before I saw you in that hallway."
She watched as his chest swelled with pride and his eyes darkened with happiness. Tom was searing her with her gaze in a way other than lust, with an emotion she had never seen before, at least not directed at her. At that moment, the pull she had always felt toward him felt even stronger than before, that small cord inside of her tugging her to him with all of its might. His, it whispered. You are his and he is yours and you belong together.
"Tom," she whispered. "What is this feeling between us? This connection?"
He kissed her cheeks gently. "I don't know, my darling. Not fully."
She read his face easily. "But you have a guess?"
He bit his lip and nodded. "Yes... I believe you have a part of my soul inside of you. And that part longs to be with me. I don't know how you have it or how much of it you have."
So that was it? He only pursued her because there was a piece of him inside of her? For no other reason?
He must have read her face easily because he chuckled deeply and kissed her forehead. "Even if it is true, you having a piece wouldn't make me adore you as much as I do. It wouldn't make me long to kiss you and hold you as I do. It would just bring us together in unexplainable ways until I got the piece back."
"And... and you want it back?"
Tom shook his head. "You can have my whole soul if you desire. It's yours to take."
A soft smile soon overtook her face. "So that's why you could feel me on Halloween. And that's why I've always been so lonely but never truly alone. You've been with me."
He cupped her cheek. His lips turned up ever so slightly as he gazed into her eyes. "It would appear so. I've always been with you, Little Dove. And I always will be."
A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "Especially since you are now back in my bed. You know what that means... you're never leaving it."
She grinned. "I hated being away from it anyway."
"Oh, just the bed?"
She hummed her agreement. "Mm-hmm. It's rather comfy, you know."
Tom fell backward on the duvet, bringing her with him. She was now straddling him, her head leaning against his chest as she looked down at him. A giggle escaped her lips. "I know something else that's comfy," he murmured before lifting up his hips in a way that made her gasp.
"Thomas! You are so sneaky."
He grinned. "Well, I am the heir of Slytherin, Little Dove."
It felt natural being with him like this, laughing in his bed while they ignored the outside world. His bedroom was a chamber for their bond to grow, his bed a place for their souls to intertwine in ways no one else could quite understand. Tom understood her and she understood him. Perhaps it was because she held a piece of him inside of her or perhaps it was just because they were meant to be together. Two halves of a whole. A pair of doves in a tree.
Evelyn wasn't sure what she felt for Tom. It was a warm, tight feeling in the center of her chest. She'd never felt it before, not even when she thought about her father. It was like this all-consuming fire overtook her entire being every time she was with him, wanting nothing more than to be devoured by him entirely. It wasn't lust—at least not fully. It was something else too. Something... deeper. Older. Stronger.
It was a funny feeling, knowing that someone understood the very depths of her soul, knowing that someone saw the darkest parts of her and embraced them fully, knowing Tom. Her heart raced every time she was near him, her stomach dropped with excitement every time his eyes were on her. And yet even though it was a little frightening, running away was unfathomable. If anything, she wanted to run to him, begging him to never leave her, to always stay with her. And the best part was she knew she didn't have to. He never would leave. She knew that.
"I really, really like you," she whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. "I never want to part from you. I am yours, Tom, utterly so."
He leaned up and gave her a long, slow, sweet kiss. "You always will be mine. And I... I am yours."
She could tell how hard it was for him to say but he did it anyway. Expressing emotions didn't seem like Tom's forte, especially considering he grew up in a loveless home surrounded by people who viewed him only as an heir, as a piece of power to be wielded. And yet there he was, trying to express himself for her sake.
Evelyn kissed him again. She was about to deepen it when another loud boom echoed. The charm muffled the sound for the most part but she could still hear it. It was probably roaring outside, the charm saving her from the majority of the storm. Still, she couldn't help but wince.
"Tom," she asked once she finally calmed herself down a reasonable amount.
He rubbed his hand up and down her arms in a soothing motion. "Yes, Little Dove?"
"Will... will you do something for me?"
"Anything," he replied without hesitation, sitting up so he could look her in the eye. She was still straddling his lap. "What do you want?"
She bit her lip before whispering, "Distract me."
Ahh, had to do a little cliffhanger! This chapter was so sweet and about emotional intimacy so I didn't want to add the physical intimacy in her and disrupt those deep vibes. But you already know the next chapter is going to begin with a bang lol. Hope you like it!