October 1947 - The Raven's Gilded Cage
Summary: Last chapter, Annabel woke up in an empty room, once the party Tom hard organised in the honour of their son ended. As she searched for him, Annabel reflected on her new life, far away from London and St Mungo's, and on that semblance of freedom Tom allocated her. She found him in his study, and was surprised to learn that he was planning on a trip.
This new chapter is the continuation of the last.
—
The wind stopped, soon replaced by a gentle rain, and Annabel's breath calmed once his hips stopped thrusting. Her core was still throbbing, a gentle pulse that he did not wish to interrupt, so he leaned back on the sofa while he was still inside her. He eased her on top of him, his arms wrapped around her waist so he could stroke her back lovingly. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and he felt her skin against his, the dampness of her forehead, the warmth of her cheek. He turned his face to kiss the crown of her head and she groaned appreciatively, her eyes closed as she relaxed against him. He played with her hair, a gentle touch that made her purr like a kitten, and he closed his eyes too, lulled by the pattering of the water, and by their pleasant snuggling.
They remained like that for a while, languid limbs interlaced in a heap of clothes, until the cool air made her shiver and goosebumps showed on her skin. Tom's hand left the back of her neck to feel for his discarded shirt, and he finally found the piece of cloth with which he covered her shoulders.
She thanked him in a whisper, yet the fabric was too thin, and soon enough she was shuddering some more.
"We should go to bed" he uttered decidedly as he gently pushed her away, and once she was standing on her feet, his eyes lingered on her changing body.
Annabel had begun to show about a month ago, early, if the healer who followed her was to be believed. Her stomach was slightly swollen now, a gentle bump just above her widening hips, and her breasts were heavy and round, fuller than they had ever been. His cock almost hardened again at the sight of her standing before him, and he had to muster all of his self control not to push her back on the couch to take her.
It was odd, that attraction he felt for her, a yearning that consumed him every time he saw her, stronger than what he had ever felt. He had always desired her, of course, long before she became his, but if he had always liked Annabel's boyish looks - her athletic style, the taut skin on outlined muscles - those new curves stirred something inside of him.
Something primal and brute, he thought, something he had yet to explain.
And yet, this revived desire was hardly restful because for the first time ever, Tom felt nervous, on edge, mortified by the simple thought that something could happen to her. All at once, everything seemed to become a danger, the absence of fire guard before the chimney, the front steps that became slippery when it rained.
But also, Annabel's mutiny, that trying habit of hers to endanger herself. He got crossed last time when he had found her drudging in the garden, her hands dirty, her head bare. She was about to repot some Mandrakes, she had grinned.
Oh, he could have hexed her there and then would she have not been carrying his seed.
It was that kind of behaviour, that forgetfulness of hers that had made him take the ultimate decision to have someone follow her at all times.
Something he had yet to disclaim to her of course, because he knew she would find this excessive. Annabel enjoyed the feeling of freedom she had when she left the house, and he would do anything he could to keep up appearances. Who knew what stress could cause to the baby?
—
Tom eased her off his lap, and she stood in front of him stark naked, her hair brushing the small of her back. She had never had her hair this long, an unexpected change caused by her pregnancy, and Annabel suddenly became aware of Tom's gaze on her.
It was that same look back in June, that had confirmed what she already knew: he wanted to be a father, more so than ever before, and it was that flicker in his eyes, an imperceptible gleam, that had made her reconsider everything.
Tom wanted a child, with her, parenthood to distract him from the monotony of his life, and from such a thought exuded guilt.
It was because of their marriage that he was working for the Ministry, exploited at will, work piling up despite the over hours. It was because of her that he had to abide her father who made him work himself to death. And yet, Tom never complained, as if he'd deemed it essential, a necessary sacrifice to be with her, and for that she was forever grateful.
Who was she, then, to forbid him such experience, to refuse him the joy of fatherhood? To prevent him from fixing what could be fixed, an heir to repair his mother's mistake, fortuitous chance to mend the tapestry of their shared parentage?
And so she had made her decision, she'd keep the child, no matter how much it grieved her. She would allow her body to grow into a vessel, her womb to turn into a receptacle for life. It was frightening those changes, the modifications her body allowed, as if her shape was unsuitable, inadequate just as it was. For a long time, Annabel had wished to transform what she saw as a puny figure, narrow hips and flat chested, a child's body that she began to miss, for she now understood what those changes implied: she was to shed her skin, swap her life, she was to become what everyone expected her to be. She was to become a mother.
Tom stood up from the sofa, and interrupted her train of thoughts. He headed towards the desk with heavy steps, his exhaustion given away by his gait. On his way, he gathered all the books that were scattered across the room, to tidy up his study before he went to bed, an entrenched habit he never contravened. Annabel watched him absentmindedly as she stooped to pick up dress, stockings and underwear, clothes that she placed in the crook of her elbow. And when Tom walked back to his desk to re-roll the map that displayed the piece of land he would travel to soon, something caught her attention.
From the stack of documents that lay on Tom's desk slid a squared and white piece of paper. An envelope addressed to him, with on its front a lime green cross split by a wand and bone.
A letter from St Mungo's.
"What's wrong?"
Annabel started and turned around, to find Tom stand near the doorstep.
"Nothing" she replied in a rushed voice.
"I'm just tired" she lied, before she walked towards the young man and slid her hand inside his palm.
"Let's go to bed" she uttered, and before the door closed behind her, Annabel shot the letter one last glance over her shoulder.
—
She was standing in the corridor, her husband's coat under her arm. Tom was leaving the house, requested to tend to some urgent business in London. She watched him fasten his tie in the entrance mirror, noticing the beams of light where danced dust particles. It was barely past seven, a normal time for the young man to start his day, but Annabel's eyes were still heavy from sleep.
They had stayed up late last night, because of that party he had thrown, and because of that private moment they had shared in his study. And maybe, maybe, because of that letter she had seen on his desk, which had kept her awake at night.
"You look good" she smiled as she watched Tom getting ready, but the young man brushed off her praise.
"I'll be back as soon as I can" he replied, and reached for his cloak before he added that he'll send Alastair to keep her company. Tom gave her a kiss, and soon enough, he was gone..
Annabel waited for a while, in case he had forgotten something, and when she was certain that he would not apparate once again, she left the hallway.
Her feet were quick on the marble stairs, like little wings that transported her all the way to the second floor and she rushed inside the corridor, almost ran past the hanging portraits. She reached the threshold of Tom's study, stood in front of the double door, and as she was about to push the door open, a thought struck her.
She had never stepped into Tom's office alone before. She paused, her gesture disrupted by her sudden awareness and she took a step back, stared at the polished doorknob that reflected the light of the nearby window. Guilt gripped her, like if she was about to commit some serious felony, an idea that startled her by how absurd it seemed. This was her house, she tried to reason herself, she was free to come and go as she pleased. Besides, she was doing nothing wrong, a quick search for a mere letter her husband might have forgotten. She shook her head, let a little laugh escape her throat to give herself some courage.
She was doing nothing wrong, she declared out loud, and to prove it, she would tell Tom first thing in the evening. After all, they swore they did not keep secrets from each other anymore, didn't they? And it was with such a thought that Annabel grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.
—
The room bathed in the cold winter light, the air permeated with Tom's scent, a perfume of bergamot and pine-trees, and with more acrid traces, the essence of sex and sweat. Annabel looked around, reminded of that moment they had shared a few hours ago in that very room, an intimate memory she cherished, and at that thought, the baby stirred inside her, like a floundering fish, as if to remind her of its existence, and that he had been there, too, for he was always there, and somehow, that thought made her nauseous.
Annabel chased away the thought before she took a few steps inside the room. She closed her eyes, remembering what she came here for, and when she opened them again she came closer to Tom's desk, only to notice that the letter was gone.
She frowned, and shook her head ever so slightly. It was there, sliding from that pile of papers, she was sure of it. She looked around, dumbfounded.
She called for the elf, asking the creature if she had stepped into the room last night, but the latter said she had not, for she was not allowed to enter her Master's study without his permission. Annabel dismissed the elf, and crouched before the couch to make sure the letter had not slid and disappeared under the furniture.
A laughter escaped her lips as she stood up, and she scratched the back of her head, to lessen the significance of the scene, silly movements that aimed at keeping her confusion in check. She had seen that letter yesterday, before Tom had left the room with her, and he had not left her side ever since. It could only mean that the letter was there, somewhere, stuck between two pieces of paper, and so she lifted every parchment, to inspect each one of them cautiously.
It was there, she had seen it, it could not have gone, she repeated to herself.
Except… Except if Tom had stood up in the middle of the night, gone to his study to hide it.
"No" she breathed, and she wished to pinch herself for her sinful thoughts. She walked around the furniture, sat on his chair where she allowed herself to take a deep breath. She glanced here and there, her eyes grazing each object swiftly before they fixed upon the drawers. She opened them one by one, peeked at the pile of books and diaries, rummaged through some of them. In one, a a folder with her name caught her attention.
She took it out, opened it with trembling hands, but at what she saw, an unforeseen warmth diffused in her chest. Inside were dozens of clippings, mainly from professional magazines, that put the spotlight on her and her work.
"First female healer to attend St Mungo's" read one.
"The fantastic accomplishments of Annabel Sybil Riddle"
A soft smile stretched her lips.
And yet, when she turned the last page, her heart skipped a beat. There, neatly placed inside the sleeve of the folder, a white envelope stuck out, immaculate, its spotless white contrasting sharply with the gaudy green of St Mungo's emblem.
She grabbed it between her thumb and her index finger, and flipped it, to notice that someone had already broken its seal. Tom, certainly, but why on earth had not breathed a word about it to her?
Was this letter the bearer of bad news?
Had she made a mistake with a patient, did someone lodge a complaint against her? Was St Mungo's trying to get rid of her, to replace her with an older, more experienced wizard?
Annabel glanced at the envelope warily, as if it could explode any time, and when she could not bear such anxious wait anymore, she fished out its content with two trembling fingers.
The envelope contained an invitation card, in the occasion of the award giving organised by the International Order of Healers. A celebration that summoned up hundreds of people all over the world once a year.
She read about the ceremony and its eccentric location, somewhere deep in the rainforest, and Annabel's mind suddenly filled with images of palm trees and orchid flowers, macaws that flew over the Amazon river. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she barely comprehended the words she read next, those that showed her name, her healer's title. Her body, though, seemed to catch the meaning of those words faster, for her heart began to race, and her mouth fell open.
She felt a rush of adrenaline as she rocked on the ball of her feet to stand up, and her hands brought the invitation closer to her eyes.
She was nominated.
For a prize.
—
Annabel walked on air all day, ecstatic like she had rarely been, and it was with a smile on her face that she welcomed Tom when he came home. Her two hands clasped around his, she guided him in the living room, forced him to sit on the armchair before she ordered the elf to fix them a drink.
She hopped up and down and swiftly grabbed the tray that levitated inside the room before she gambolled back towards the couch where she handed Tom his drink.
"Someone is in a very good mood" he observed, and Annabel eased herself on the arm of the furniture where he sat. She grinned, and she was about to brandish her discovery - the invitation card which felt thick in the pocket of her robe - before she remembered where she had found the letter, to whom it was addressed.
How would she explain, now, that she had entered his study without his permission, rummaged through his things? She felt Tom's penetrative gaze on her, in that way he had to look at people, like if he could see right through her, two dark orbs glowing in his pale and handsome face.
"Annabel?" he asked, in a voice that contained a hint of warning, and she recalled suddenly that promise they had made.
No more lies.
With a cautious gesture, she pulled out the invitation card from her pocket, handed it to him.
She watched Tom's eyes fixed upon the envelope, an undecipherable expression on his face. Would he chastise her for her nosiness? Yet, to her greatest surprise, he simply stroked her thigh in a soothing gesture.
"I'm sorry darling"
She frowned, taken aback by his behaviour.
"No, you don't understand" she shook her head before she let out an astonished little laugh. "I was nominated"
"I was nominated for a prize" she insisted, and he watched her cautiously.
She stood up, facing him before she snatched the envelope from his hand, opened it in haste before she tapped it with her index finger.
"Here, see?" she added while her digit stroke the paper repeatedly.
"Nomination for research on unicorn blood" she smiled, and she was suddenly filled by the glee she had felt that morning.
She paced in the room, recounting with a rapturous voice all the steps of her research, starting with the initial refusal of her boss to let her procure the precious liquid. She talked for a while, exalted, punctuating her talk with silly anecdotes, amusing details. She was thrilled, elated, and in her frenzy, she failed to notice Tom's lasting silence, the mixture of resignation and griefon his face.
"How pleased I am to see you so blissful darling" he replied after a while, once she had stopped to take a breath. She was gawking at him, discomfited by his unusual behaviour, and she watched Tom stand up and come close to her. Gently, he took back the invitation card from her hand, placed it back in the envelope before he kissed her forehead. He turned around, and drew away from her, summoned the house elf who materialised in the room. He walked towards the creature and asked for the envelope to be placed back in his office, and Annabel watched with wide eyes as the elf apparate out of the room with her precious letter in hand.
"Your enthusiasm won't go unnoticed I'm sure" Tom added once the elf was gone. "You'll certainly be nominated next year again"
"Next year?"
He peeked at her above his shoulder, and confirmed in a final tone.
"Next year"
"I- I don't understand" she whispered, all the while eyeing him cautiously.
"I vetoed your participation to the ceremony"
What?
She must have spoken out loud because Tom stiffened, his body tense like every time time she asked a question she knew he found displeasing. She took in the musculature of his back, concealed behind a thin layer of clothes, at his arms that could carry her from one room to the next, at his hands, that could pin her down if he wished.
"I turned down the invitation yesterday" he replied quite simply, with a casualness that made her stomach churn.
She was only half listening when Tom began to explain himself, alluding to her condition, unsuitable for a long travel, to the location, how remote it was. Tom brought up the healer's advices, that she ought to slow down, and wouldn't such a prize remind her of her work, thus distracting her of her upcoming duty?
"I only want what's best for you darling" he concluded, words that sounded to her like a death sentence, before he let go of her face and grabbed her palms to bring them to his lips. And despite how soft his lips were on the back of her hands, silky skin against hers, his grasp felt cold and tight, like the talons of a bird, or the fangs of a snake.