July to September 1941, summer of 3rd year and 4th year
London, the Muggle London, was not under any threat this summer. At least not from bombings. For now.
And because Tom had screwed up during his last stay, Naenia did not extend an invitation to the Lémure estate this time. Besides, there were more important things demanding her attention than a poor orphan not wanting to go back to his orphanage.
So she bid goodbye to him on platform nine and three-quarters and let her mother disapparate them. Leaving Tom behind.
She wrote to him, of course, she even admitted that it was odd not having him around all the time. After all, they were constantly together at Hogwarts and during both the Christmas and the Easter holidays – often found reading in the library, having quiet discussions in one corner of the common room or disappearing to their private room up on the seventh floor.
(Technically, it wasn't their room. They had discovered more and more about its properties and how exactly it worked over the last few years and, finally – during one of their expeditions into the version that held all the things hundreds and thousands of students had ever wanted to hide – they had discovered records about the room itself. The Room of Requirement, the Come and Go Room or, in the case of the aforementioned version, the Room of Hidden Things. They still liked to call it 'their private room up on the seventh floor', though, because it felt special. It was special.)
Naenia had grown used to Tom's presence.
She imagined his satisfaction at reading her words and had to shake her head to get rid of the mental image.
It was evident in the smug tone of the letter he sent in return.
He had also not forgotten about the ball Black had mentioned back in September.
Naenia didn't attend herself, but her parents did. To no one's surprise, Perseus Black did not have an aptitude for Necromancy. Nor did his younger brother Orion or any of the other Black children. No one was overly disappointed by that; they weren't exactly on good terms with the House of Black.
Naenia imagined that Perseus was probably relieved at the prospect of not having to marry her. She, herself, certainly was.
There were other, more interesting news to be gained from that particular social meeting, but those were not for Naenia's ears. Not just yet, when she was merely fourteen years old.
Most of her summer holidays were spent either studying the Forbidden Arts under various family members or visiting Tom in Diagon Alley.
She had to admit, seeing a bombed London sure was a sight to behold, no matter how often she travelled there. It took her breath away every time, so beautifully dreadful it was. Her family came to the city often, helping the Muggles with the clean-up, looking for victims, organizing burials.
Tom hated it.
"It reminds me of how easy it could be over," he said with a bitter tone. "My life could end just like that. And I wouldn't even be able to defend myself, because I'm not allowed to use magic."
Naenia let her gaze wander over the busy street behind the tea room's window glasses.
"I have never quite come to understand the reason behind people's fear of death, you know that."
Tom sighed and set his cup down. "It would be more surprising if you feared death. Someone who is so close to it, gains power and respect from it and does not have to look upon it as the end."
Naenia tilted her head and carefully thought his words over. "Death is the end, that is true, but it is also a new beginning."
Tom arched an eyebrow. "What - are you talking about reincarnation?"
Naenia smiled. "Perhaps." She took a sip of her tea. "It is not for me to reveal the secrets of 'what comes after'." She paused. "I do not know where you got the notion that Death gives us power and respect, because that is simply not true."
Tom's eyes were inscrutable. "But you do hold both in your hands."
Naenia shook her head. "We are powerful, yes. Because we practise the Old Magics, as I have explained to you before. We are respected, in a way, because people fear death and therefore us, who are closer to Him than anyone else in this world will ever be in their life. But respect rooted in fear is not equal to true respect, Tom."
"Is it not?" he asked and let his thoughtful gaze wander to the view outside. "Because from what I have observed people truly respect you. You have a high social standing, your family is rich and powerful, you are feared and respected." Then, in a more subdued and quiet voice, he added, "You have everything I ever wanted."
"I am not sure about that," Naenia said. "But this is not a topic where we can ever find common ground, because our situations are so very different."
"But wouldn't it be the ultimate triumph to defeat death?"
Naenia's eyes widened as she stared at him. "Defeat Death?" she repeated incredulously. "That notion is simply delusional. I have told you, once, that no one can master Death, because Death conquers all. Mors vincit omnia. And I stand by that sentence. It is simply impossible to defeat Death."
"But you have managed it," Tom urged. "Your family has achieved what others can only dream of – immortality."
"We have not," Naenia said with offense, "ever 'achieved' immortality. It is granted to us upon our death by Him. Or it is not. An undead existence to be rewarded for serving Him loyally, to be even closer to Him. It is not life, because we have to die first and nothing that has died can rise to life again."
"That," Tom said coldly, "is a lie."
Naenia remained silent.
"Is it not the goal of Necromancy to raise the dead?"
"Raise them, yes, not revive them. You have seen our creations, Tom. No matter how very much alive they might seem, they are, in the end, still dead."
"I do not understand you," Tom said.
Naenia sighed. "It is the natural cycle of life, Tom, to live and to die." She averted her eyes from his to look at the living, wistfully, longingly. "For He is the End that will claim us all."
"Even yourself?"
She knew what he had seen in her expression.
"Even myself."
Ꝋ
On their train ride to Hogwarts on the first of September they were joined by even more people than the year before.
Not only had Avery and Lestrange joined them this time, but also Rosier and (after returning from the prefect carriage) Nott – the four of them animatedly discussing pureblood politics. Tom listened intently, absorbing all the knowledge he could gain from this, while Naenia longed for quietness.
"I see my childhood waning," Avery whined at one point.
Tom looked at Naenia and raised an eyebrow. She smiled in response. Neither of them had ever properly understood the concept of 'childhood' or 'being a child'. They had always been more grown-up than any of their peers.
"Soon they'll expect me to find a suitable partner for marriage."
Nott laughed at that. "You can always postpone it until you're of age, like I did."
"Or have you parents arrange it for you," Rosier said. "Me and my younger sister have already been promised to our respective partners at birth."
Lestrange perked up at that. "Oh? I know you're going to marry the Fawcett girl, but what about your sister?"
"Druella will marry Cygnus Black."
"Black?" Avery piped up. "Colour me impressed."
"I doubt there's any pureblood family left, that's not related to the Black's by now." Rosier glanced at Naenia. "Except for the Lémures, maybe. In any case, the boy is only three years old. No one can say whether it will be a favourable match at this point."
"But it is set in stone regardless, is it not?" Tom asked.
Rosier nodded. "Mostly. I doubt the 'Noble and Most Ancient House of Black' will defect to the blood traitors anytime soon."
"You're lucky, Riddle," Avery said. "You won't be forced into anything, you can actually marry for love."
"Or power," Nott said.
Naenia glanced at Tom just as his face smoothed over again.
"Isn't that what the Lémures do?" Nott continued. "To marry for power."
Naenia made sure her expression was carefully neutral before addressing him. "Not really, no."
"But you turned down a proposal from the House of Black, did you not?" He arched an eyebrow at her, his piercing eyes colder than ice.
Tom slowly turned to her, his expression closed off. He was angry. She had never actually told him about this. They were going to talk about this later. But for now, Tom let his gaze wander over the other boys in the department, assessing every single one of them.
"As I understand it, the Lémure family has a very high social standing." His gaze finally landed on Nott. "So where do they stand compared to the House of Black?"
Nott's eyes fluttered to Naenia, down to the undead mink in her lap, then back to Tom.
It was Lestrange, who answered, "Higher. Actually, I believe there is no family of higher standing than the Lémures."
"And why is that?" Tom inquired.
"Because they are the most powerful," Nott replied. "They are pure of blood, they are wealthy and not afraid even in the face of death."
Naenia blinked. All of that was true, but hearing it out of another person's mouth, spoken with something akin to awe, was… unsettling.
Tom nodded. "So they don't need to marry for power, because they represent power."
"Yes," Nott said quietly. "That is true." Then turned to Naenia and bowed his head. "I apologize, Miss Lémure, for my earlier behaviour."
Naenia kept herself from frowning and put on a polite smile instead. "We did not reject the gracious offer the House of Black extended to us because we look down upon them. They are a very respectable family, after all." Not really, but she had an image to uphold. "The offer was rejected, because neither of the Black children could meet the requirements."
Naenia paused, wondering whether she should continue. The look in Tom's eyes told her to do it. But she didn't want to. She was tired of having this conversation.
In the end, she didn't have to say it because Lestrange did, in a quiet, trembling voice, "Necromancy. They need to practice Necromancy."
He was staring at Marin. The other boys followed his line of sight. To most Marin looked like a perfectly normal mink. Until you took a closer look. It was the eyes, always the eyes.
"Or at least be able to," Naenia added.
Out of everyone in the compartment, Lestrange was the most afraid of her. But to her surprise, none of the others acted any differently after that revelation. Either they had already known or suspected and it therefore didn't add to their already existing fear, or they didn't see it as any reason to be more afraid of her.
Watching their faces, Naenia came to the realization that, apart from Lestrange, no one actually showed any outright fear, only wariness. And for some reason it didn't even bother her.
"So," Avery said in a light tone, "before this gets any more depressing, why don't we change the subject? Nott, Rosier, you're part of the Duelling Club, right? What is it like?"
Naenia tuned out the conversation after that, finally being able to return to her book. Beside her, Tom leaned slightly forward to better engage in it, his interest piqued at last. He was sitting close enough let their shoulders brush against each other ever so often, and now he shifted so their hips touched as well.
She had long since perfected the art of not letting any of her emotions show on her face, so even though she wanted to scowl, she knew nothing in her demeanour would show her inner turmoil. She wasn't sure whether she liked or disliked the touch itself, but it seemed rather improper of him to sit so close.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a third-year Slytherin. His hair was pale blond and his eyes a stormy grey. The Malfoy boy.
He raised his chin and said, in a very important way that was so typically Malfoy that Naenia had to refrain from snickering, "Professor Slughorn asked me to deliver these."
He handed both Tom and Naenia a scroll of parchment tied with a purple ribbon.
Naenia didn't have to read what it said. "Oh, no."
Unlike her, Tom seemed absolutely delighted, a very smug almost-grin appearing on his face.
"Ah, old Sluggy finally getting his grabby hands on you?" Rosier remarked.
Tom, who had actually opened the scroll and read through it, simply nodded.
Avery pouted. "Why didn't I get an invitation?"
Lestrange rolled his eyes. "Do you see me holding a fancy parchment?"
"Professor Slughorn will most likely invite you for his first regular meeting," Nott said. "The train compartment gets rather crowded very quickly, so he only invites a small selection of new potential members."
"Wouldn't Avery and Lestrange have been the more obvious choice, then?" Naenia asked. "Professor Slughorn already knows Tom's and my talents first-hand, whereas with Avery and Lestrange he still needs to gauge the extent of their family connections and fame."
Nott raised an eyebrow at her. "You have a very similar standing, you know?"
"Right," Naenia said slowly. "It seems like the need to collect me won out over his fear, in the end."
The boys all snickered at that (though Lestrange's laugh was a bit weak).
"Nothing could ever stop old Sluggy from collecting such a rare gem, not even his own fear," Rosier said, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Tom gestured at Naenia and she turned to the door, where Malfoy was watching them with a mix of apprehension and pure awe.
Naenia let Marin disappear under her robes and stepped outside, where another Slytherin was waiting for Malfoy. Carrow, maybe, or Montgomery – no, the Montgomery boy was already out of school and their daughter in Naenia's year. Prince? Naenia wasn't sure. (She was supposed to know every pureblood family and their children, but, sometimes, she just couldn't be bothered to remember all of them.)
The two boys nodded at her, the fear clearly written on their faces, then at Tom with more genuine respect and admiration, before disappearing down the corridor.
Upon reaching Professor Slughorn's compartment Tom and Naenia were greeted by the man himself, as jovial and pompous as always, and introduced to the other three students (none of which Naenia bothered to pay any attention to).
The lunch Slughorn had prepared for them was the only positive thing of the whole meeting. And Naenia loathed eating.
There was a very good reason she had wanted to avoid this as much as possible. She hoped she could slither her way out of having to attend any future Slug Club meetings whatsoever, but she knew that was wishful thinking. If Slughorn wanted to add someone to his collection, then he bloody well would.
At least she managed to steer his questions away from herself by giving rather morbid and gruesome answers. He turned more and more uncomfortable with each answer he got and soon stopped addressing her altogether. Naenia leaned back to enjoy him squirming, ignoring the admonishing look Tom threw her way.
It was still so very, very boring and Tom's empty flattery only encouraged the Professor to keep going and going. Naenia briefly considered strangling him out of sheer frustration and boredom. Either of them, actually. She had already given up on ever escaping Professor Slughorn's clutches, when the usual message rang through the train announcing their upcoming arrival.
He had to let them go after that. Finally.
"How was it?" Avery asked as soon as they had returned to their compartment. "What did you talk about?"
"Oh, a lot of things," Tom began and then launched into a slightly altered retelling of the tedious event Naenia had just escaped.
"Wait, she said what?" Rosier interjected, then turned to Naenia. "You said what?"
Naenia blinked and raised her eyebrows quizzically at Tom. She hadn't paid attention to their conversation.
"Funeral parlour", he said with an annoyed undertone.
"Ah," Naenia said and turned to face Rosier, occasionally glancing back to Tom. "My family owns a funeral parlour and a cemetery, you see. We do everything from retrieving the deceased and preparing the body, wake and funeral to keeping the grave in good condition for many years after. Some people ask for cremation, while others wish for the corpse to resemble the person they had been in life. There are a few different processes for either – both magical and non-magical and –"
"It's okay, Naenia," Tom interrupted her softly. "They can figure out the rest on their own."
Ah, yes, she probably shouldn't go into as much detail about the actual cremation and burial processes as she had with Slughorn. There was no need to scare them off, after all.
"And you really told Slughorn all of that that?" Rosier laughed. "His reaction must have been hilarious!"
Naenia blinked in confusion. She looked around the compartment. None of the boys seemed even remotely afraid or disgusted. Huh. That was a first.
The look on Tom's face confused her the most. It wasn't until they had exited the train, taken the carriages (where Naenia absentmindedly greeted the Thestrals) and reached the castle, when she finally figured it out. Mostly.
She had seen the obvious annoyance – he had wanted Professor Slughorn to be in his best spirits, after all, and Naenia's performance had slightly tarnished that. Then there had been wariness and some of the usual coldness and detachment shimmering through. What she had only deciphered now, was the hint of a soft smile tugging at the corners his lips.
The closest comparison she could come up with was 'fond exasperation'.
Because his friends, no, acquaintances (for they were not his friends and Naenia was afraid they would never truly be) had for once neither been afraid nor wary of her and had light-heartedly laughed at her story instead?
It unsettled her heart, made her feel a bit giddy, though she would never admit that out loud. (Was that happiness? No, it couldn't be. It felt so weird, to have her heart fluttering like that.)
But why would Tom care?
Naenia would have pondered over that during the whole Welcoming Feast, but then she actually locked at her plate full of different dishes. She stared at it for five full seconds, until she realized why there was so much food on her plate.
Tom gave her his sweetest smile. "You need to eat, my dear."
Oh, she really wanted to strangle him now.
Bah, emotions! Eww! XD
I was originally planning to look up some weird stories about funeral parlours/homes/whateverer-they're-called, but then I realized that most people (and certainly Slughorn) wouldn't be very comfortable with the whole funeral process to begin with, so Naenia doesn't even have to bring out the big guns, so to speak.
And Tom is really starting to gather more and more people around him, huh? I haven't even written everyone in yet…
Well, that's it for this chapter. And now, my dears, the 'fun' begins. (Anyone missing all the talking about death? Didn't get enough this chapter? There's more to come, I promise! ;p)