42: The Truth Untold

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[victoria's pov]

"You lied to me again, Tom," I said, slamming the front door behind me.

We had just gotten back from the wedding early with my bloody self leaving Borgin speechless and, Burke curious to ask questions until I exploded at Tom, at which he decided to shut his mouth.

"I'm doing it to protect you," Tom says, facing me.

"No, you're not," I say. "You're lying to protect yourself. You don't think you can trust me, but look how far we've already come! Look where we are!"

Tom shakes his head, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed as if he were talking to a wall.

"What don't I understand?" I demand. "Why is it that everytime I think you've changed, you don't! Why do you keep having to hide from me, Tom?"

"You can't understand," he says.

"Then make me," I beg.

I approach him and he can't find himself to look at me as I'm only quiet and waiting for a response. Instead, his lips touch mine and I let his warmth sink in before he speaks.

"I love you."

I'm left speechless without a thought in mind. Above all things, it was not this I was expecting to hear soon. Or at all. I did not think it was in his nature.

"Yet it's not enough to turn you back to the mortal woman you were, to free you of this curse," he added.

"I don't need to be changed," I say.

"I'm not trying to change you, I'm trying to fix you!" he exclaimed. "Two broken people trying to fix each other, is that not love?"

I'm silent.

"Of all I've ever wanted, it's to see you return that same look I give you. I cannot stay here in this room everyday and face the eyes of a heartless, shallow woman. I cannot bring myself to blame you for that night at the Seven Swans and most of all, I cannot allow myself to get so close to you because we both know at the end of the day, we are each other's weaknesses."

His tone had grown desperate and helpless. Have we fallen to be crossed stars?

"Tom, I didn't know..."

"How could you have known?" he sighs. "You're living a half-life and I'm not enough to make it whole."

"It's not something we can help!" I say. "And your lies don't mend us anymore than a curse, Tom. Please, just stop keeping things in the dark! I can handle the truth, I'm not afraid of you or what you're capable of."

"Afraid or not," Tom said. "It's to keep you safe."

My heart is racing and my chest is thumping with a twisting knot in my stomach. All of his lies were to keep me safe, just as I had done to Theo. But how could I have brought myself to think of it as enough. To think of it as a reason to stay.

My arms felt bare and in that moment, what would have felt comforting was the warmth of his embracement and he knew it too. But we could only find ourselves frozen from the numbing cold of a helpless future, never to land on the same heavenly earth.

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Three weeks. Three weeks was what took for me to move out since that confession. It had ended with my heart aching all night as I couldn't find myself to understand Tom.

I didn't even know what love was.

Or how it felt anymore.

All I knew was I had it once and lost it.

On the last night I left, it felt like weight had been added on my chest. There was no closure. It was our first time talking since the wedding. Three weeks.

"Where have you been" I had asked him when he came home five agonising days after disappearing without a word. Not. A. Word.

Coldly, he responded, "Out. Nowhere in particular."

"Tom, enough with the white lies and be honest with me," I begged. I had to beg for everything I wanted from him now. A word, a glance. Since that night he confessed he loved me, it had been different.

Knowing I couldn't return the same look, he would do the favour and become shallow.

"I've already told you, I can't have you getting too close. You'll only get hurt," Tom warned before calmly walking up the stairs.

"You know I can take care of myself!" I shout from the bottom of the stairs. "Please, Tom, I won't ask you again. Please let me in or let me go."

Tom ignores me, entering the door of our room before there's a moment of pause. He turns to me from the top of the stairs with a flat look.

"Where are your belongings?"

There was a brief pause.

At that, he had lost me. A part of me, as I knew I couldn't fully let him go.

I'd known too much about him and he'd known too much about me to truly let me go. We both knew that but as before, staying together would only prevent the tragic inevitable.

With that said, as of now I was living alone in the McCallian Manor. It was mine. All of it. The money would only last me a year so I knew I had to get a job. Yet nowhere felt right except for Hogwarts. I had always known the last day was not really a goodbye.

I walk the streets of Diagon Alley's south side, nearing Ollivander's with my wand. Since the night at the maze, I had not used my wand for magic. Not that I hadn't tried, but it prevented me from reaching my potential. It made me weak, tethering my magic to an object rather than my emotions.

As soon as my foot steps past the door, a little chime is heard and I see a tricenarian ecstatic man. He's wearing green overalls over his brown collared shirt and his eyes are an electric green. His build reminds me of a bowtruckle as he swings down the steps to greet me.

"'Ello there," he says before motioning me to his desk. "They call me Ollivander. Gerbold Olivander. What kind of wand are you looking for today, eh?"

He spoke quickly but clearly as he moved around a lot, not bothering to sit down in his four-wheeled chair.

"Actually, I'm here to sell," I say, showing him my wand as he takes it enthusiastically.

"Oi, I know this fella," he says. "Meh older brother, Garrick, made it couple years back!"

He inspects it, pulling down his spectacles. "Looks like it's in fine condition. Very nice and supple... Eleven inches long, holly, and most especially: it contains the feather of a phoenix!"

"I wasn't told that when I bought it as a child," I said, surprised.

"Aye, must've been back when I was just starting the business, sorry 'bout that," he said, still invested in the wand. "Quite odd how it's called "brother wands" considering the wands chose you and that one strange boy, I'll never forget him."

"Brother wands?" I ask.

"Ah, yes," he says, recollecting his memory. "This wand has a pair, as there's another wand out there with another feather of a phoenix. I've always thought it to be the most soul tying pair of wands, considering the buyers. But we shall see what the future lies!"

"Right, I'm sure someone else will put it to good use one day," I play along.

"Now that ye brought it in, I'll give you five galleons for its condition."

"But wait-"

"Hope you're not changing your mind, are ye?" he asks.

"No," I said. "I was merely hoping you know the name of who owns the other pair?"

"Why of course, I'll never forget his peculiar name," he cheered. "Tom Riddle."

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Is anyone noticing the pattern here?

Your author, riddlefiqs.

January 17th, 2024.

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