The Years of Riddle

Chapter Twelve | London, June 1946

Chapter Twelve

London, June 1946

There was a dewy, fanciful feel in the air. Gwyn was wearing her new dress, she'd gotten a perfect mark on her paper about Little Women – her Professor had called it superb.

The campus was full of greenery, flower petals strewn across the sidewalk. Gwyn felt like a bride walking down the path, cutting through the park. She was meeting Anthony for tea in the city centre, probably see a film after. The park was empty, and Gwyn shivered suddenly as a cool wind trickled down her collar. It had been warm moments before.

"Gwyn."

Stopping, Gwyn's eyes widened. She knew that voice, heard it in her dreams every night. How often had she thought she'd heard it, in a crowed café or behind a shelf in the library.

Turning slowly, she almost couldn't believe her eyes. "Tom?"

He looked...strange. His features were sharper, cheeks hollow. Something in his eyes was gone, maybe it was the charm. "Hullo."

"What do you want?"

"How are you?" He attempted a smile, but Gwyn's expression stayed stony.

"What do you want?" she spat the words again, clutching her books tightly.

The smile fell from his face, and Tom stepped closer. "Is that how you talk to an old friend, Gwyn?"

"Friends don't abandon you." She moved away. "Friends don't treat me the way you do. I know that now."

"Oh, been making friends, have you?" sneered Tom. "Mingling with your own, filthy kind now?"

"Don't forget your father was like me," Gwyn shot back.

Tom winced, regretting ever telling Gwyn anything about his family history. "Well, at least I made a name for myself."

"I'm doing just fine, thank you." She was shaking now.

"Working in a library for the rich who can afford education, you mean? Cleaning bathrooms on weekends for extra money?" Tom scoffed. "You're doing grand, Gwynnie."

"Don't call me that." Somehow Gwyn had started crying, the tears streaking down her freckled face. "Is this why you came here? To insult me, slander my hard work?" she sunk onto a nearby bench, trying to find her handkerchief in her pockets. "Did you ever love me, Tom?" she asked quietly, shoulders hunched – she was broken, once and for all. The look in her eyes proved it.

The question caught Tom off guard, and he struggled to regain his composure. "No." he said frankly, standing stiffly in front of her. She looked as if she could just curl up on the park bench and die right there.

"Not even when we were little?"

"Not even then."

She looked up at him with those amber eyes, the eyes that had followed Tom in and out of Kings Cross every year until he'd never come back. "You used me."

"Yes." Tom felt anxious admitting it. "You were my ally."

"The first ever Death Eater." She saw his shocked face and laughed, almost cruelly. "I know how to talk to wizards, Tom – you're not the only special one."

"C'mon Gwyn –"

"Are you going to kill me, too?" she spat at him. "Because I'm a Muggle?"

Tom froze. Since he'd known what a Muggle was he'd hated them, killed his own Muggle father – but Gwyn...Gwyn was special. "I..." she stared at him, waiting. "No."

"Why? Because I took your virginity?" she stood up, eyes suddenly fiery. Her eyes were dry of tears. "Did you love me then, Tom? When you lay with me afterward, in your bed at Wools?"

Something was creating a turmoil in Tom's brain. When he'd slept with Gwyn he'd been confused, scared even – Hogwarts was over and he really had nowhere to go. But then he'd got the job at Burke's, hadn't seen Gwyn since.

"I don't know."

"Gwyn?"

They both turned, seeing a smart looking young man striding up the path.

"Anthony, I –"

"You're late, I thought maybe you were in trouble." Anthony was studying Tom with a wary eye. "I'm Anthony Lacroix, and you must be Tom."

"I am."

"Gwyn's told me a lot about you." He looked conflicted, and offered Gwyn his arm.

"Please, can we just go?" asked Gwyn softly, standing close to him. "Goodbye Tom."

They walked off, Anthony practically keeping Gwyn from collapsing. Tom stood on the path for a long time, as dusk turned to night; the lamps came on, and still he did not move.

Somehow, he felt as if he'd made a grand mistake. 

A/N: ohhh...nice one Tom. 

Question: Where do you see Gwyn and Tom going from here?

Rose