fingertips . tom riddle

four

The sound of hurried steps filled the air, as well as the bird's and gloomy rain outside. Clara was still asleep in bed, wearing a nightgown, next to Tom who was simply in a pair of sweatpants that Clara insisted made him look hot. Soft sunlight peered through the depressed rain clouds outside, filling the room with a peep of happiness.

Tom stirred beside Clara, eyelids fluttering open as he adjusted to the light that flooded his once empty, black sight.

"Clara?" Tom called quietly, trying to wake up his wife. She hummed in response, awake but trying to go back to sleep.

"You need to wake up." Tom persuaded, leaning over her. The door slammed open, and to no surprise, Mattheo and Delancy came bouncing into the roomn.

"Yeah, mum. Wake up." Delancy grinned, shaking her mother's shoulders. Clara groaned, and begun to finally sat up, wanting nothing more than for Delancy to stop violently making her sight spin.

"Qudditch Cup today!" Mattheo exclaimed excitedly, rooting for the Irish team. "Who're you going for dad?"

"Quidditch is nonsense." Tom deadpanned, causing his son to roll his eyes.

"He's going for Bulgaria." Clara whispered to the two kids, causing them both to look at their father in disgust. Clara snorted. "Yeah, I know."

"Shit taste, dad." Delancy stated. "Anyway, mother pumpkin, hurry up so we can leave."

Clara raised in eyebrow at her daughter's demand. "Sometimes you remind me a bit too much of your father when he was younger."

"Is that a bad thing?" Tom smirked, and Clara was the one to roll her eyes this time. Ignoring how Mattheo began to bicker with Tom about him rooting for Bulgaria, she walked over to her dresser and begun to pick out some clothes for the day's event. Deciding on a simple turtleneck black dress that hugged her body in all the right places, Clara stepped into the joint bathroom off the side to the bedroom and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her dark brown went down mid-back, and Clara took note that without her makeup she seemed as though she had just come back from the dead. Dark, purple bags sat under her eyes, which seemed to be more dull than usual, as well as her skin almost looking sickly. She knew it was a result of not enough sleep, but her mind had been too frantic and stressed to leave her alone.

Ignoring her appearance, as Clara always said that "one does not do well dwelling on something they cannot change", she slipping her night gown off and stepped into the pearl-ridden shower. She turned the knobs, causing the water to shoot down onto her skin harshly, and reached for the conditioner. Something about showering was always so peaceful to Clara, as it seemed to almost distract her from her thoughts.

Clara waited until the water ran clear, and then turned the water off, stepping out and drying herself off. Her dress proved to be slightly difficult to slip on due to her damp skin, taking her a few moments, but Clara persevered and managed to put it on. Using a simple wave of her wand, her once slightly wavy hair immediately turned straight, as well as her face suddenly having her makeup done. She had made up a spell while in school for this purpose, after suddenly being tired of how long it usually took her to get ready in the mornings.

Clara left the bathroom, noticing how her family was no longer in the bedroom, and she only assumed that they were in the dining room. Quickly tucking her feet into a pair of heels, as well as grabbing her cloak, she hastily left the room. Her shoes clicked under her as she walked, alerting anyway nearby as to her presence.

While their house usually seemed dreary, Clara couldn't help but notice how bright and happy it seemed today, even with the light patter of the rain outside. Slipping through the large wooden doors, she came face to face with Tom sitting at the head of the table, an empty seat next to him while their two kids sat on the other side of him with their plates full to the brim with food.