White Demon, Where's Your Selfish Kiss? [A Tom Riddle Romance]

Chapter Seven: The Dog Days Of Summer

The Dog Days of Summer

            The first morning back was the hardest, waking up to that cold and dreary attic instead of warm and cozy common rooms. It was a reminded of the world they were surrounded in now, a world that was unaccepting to them and what they were. Magical.

            Earnestine pulled her knees, which were still covered in the thin tattered quilt, to her chest and rested her brown locks again them, looking over at her brother who was still sound asleep. It was still fairly early, the light tinges of yellow-orange rays barely reaching over the horizon. Earnestine was eager to greet the morning with watching the rising sun.

            She had dreamt last night, dreamt about Tom. It was nothing spectacular, or romantic, or noteworthy, it was just Tom and his face. It was just enough to get her through her sleep peacefully and solidly.

 As soon as she had made it home the night previous, Earnestine had sent a letter (via her owl Lucille) to both William and Tom, letting them know of her and her brother’s safe arrival home. She had been hoping to hear back from them soon, but wasn’t exactly holding her breath.

Earnestine began absentmindedly playing with the holes in her blanket when he had heard a knock come from the staircase to their attic and the rumbling voice of their uncle. Mrs. Monte had taken her son Bradford for a play date with some of his friends today, leaving Mr. Monte behind. “May I come up?”

Earnestine wondered what kind of torturous morning her uncle had in store for the two of them and glanced frantically at Henry who was still fast asleep. Earnestine didn’t like the idea of being forced to talk with her uncle alone, but she was sure that if any raised voices should occur, Henry would wake up to her defense. “Yes, sir.”

Earnestine counted the sound of shoes against wood as her uncle climbed the steps and onto the landing of their attic. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Once inside the attic her uncle paused uncomfortably, not exactly meeting his niece’s eyes. Instead he focused on the window just behind her. He spoke awkwardly, “Good morning.”

Earnestine was uncertain about her uncle’s suddenly polite nature towards her. This was not his usual tone, not the bitter one he had typically taken in those rare occasions that he had ever really spoken to either of the twins. “Good morning, Uncle Monte,” Earnestine answered carefully.

“I…er…I…” Mr. Monte was stumbling over his words awkwardly, still not looking his niece in her eyes, but when he suddenly did there was an unknown emotion that burned within the narrow blue pools. “I was…er…just wondering…about Hogwarts….”

Earnestine perked up at the familiar name, taken back by the fact that it had come out of her uncle’s mouth, “Yeah?”

“Well, um…what…” Her uncle was clearly embarrassed by the whole ‘talking comfortably with his witch and wizard niece and nephew about magic’ thing. “What I wanted to know…was…which…housesyouweresortedinto.” Mr. Monte spat out that last part as one entire word he was so nervous.

Earnestine’s eyes widened. How on earth did her uncle, Mr. Monte, know anything about Hogwarts. Unable to swallow her curiosity, Earnestine answered him carefully. “I was, um…sorted into Gryffindor. Henry…he was sorted into Slytherin.”

Mr. Monte’s eyes widened, just slightly about the narrow slits that he naturally wore on his face, in admiration. “I always fancied Slytherin.” He said.

“You..” Earnestine was simply unable to take the words in. “You…fancied Slytherin?!....Sir? How...how do you..?”

“Know so much about magic and Hogwarts?” Mr. Monte finished for her and then looked down at his plump hands, wringing them uncomfortably and glancing down the steps anxiously. “You…you can’t tell your aunt anything about this…?”