Into Your Gravity ( Luna Lovegood & Tom Riddle )

Chapter twelve: presence

"I've never taken you for a fool, darling." A lie, but it came easily. "I'm very fond of you, and it concerns me that you don't see it that way." More lies, slipping from his mouth like snakes through grass.

Walburga paused, considering him. Then she shook her head and bent to scoop up the paint can and brush she'd been using before he called on her. "No. We've done this too many times. I ask you where things are going, if we are even together at all, and you dodge around any commitment and sweet talk me into being fine with what I'm getting. But this is too much this time. And I've realized that what I'm getting is really nothing at all."

"That's not true," he said in a placating voice.

"It is so," she responded, her eyes downcast as she stirred the paint with the brush, the wooden handle scraping softly along the metal of the can. "The worst part is that you knew I wanted a family. Children. And you let me waste my time on you."

Tom stared at her for a moment. It was unusual for Walburga to express any emotion other than smug confidence or fury.

She gave herself a small shake and looked back up at him. "No matter. A Black is never without her options." A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Now, I really must get back to my work. When you're back from your honeymoon, I expect my violin to be delivered on time, as discussed." With that, she turned her back on him and returned to her painting, ending the conversation.

Turning on his heel and shoving his irritation down, Tom stalked out of the drawing room, down the hall, and out of Number Twelve. Once outside and free of the home's prodigious protection spells, he Apparated back to Knockturn Alley, appearing in front of Borgin and Burkes.

His sudden appearance did not startle any of the odd shoppers clogging the cobblestone street. The people just parted around him as they moved past, like a stream around a stone. Mondays were always a busy day on the Alley.

He weaved around a man in an enormous purple hat to step inside Borgin and Burkes, the bell tinkling over the door. There were a handful of shoppers inside browsing, and Burke was at the counter showing an older witch, who was tall, thin, and pale to the point of appearing ill, the opal necklace Tom had procured from Rancorn.

Burke paused when he saw Tom come in. "Oi, boy! Come here for a second."

Tom pretended not to hear, although the noise in the shop was not loud enough to justify his sudden deafness. He strode across the shop, giving the counter as wide a berth as possible, and continued on his way up the stairs.

"I let your friend into your flat, you ungrateful slug," Burke snarled after Tom's retreating back.

A jolt of rage went through Tom. With a twitch of his fingers, he sent a taxidermied manticore, which had been strung up from the ceiling for display, careening down upon Burke's head with the snapping of the wires that held it in place. The pale witch stepped out of the way at the last moment before the beast crashed down onto Burke, a plume of dust billowing out around him, and Tom's newfound difficulty hearing persisted all the way up the creaking staircase.

Opening the dark door of his flat, he found Luna inside, Violetta in her arms. They were both wearing the cloaks he had first seen them in, though Violetta's was bunching around her body as she fussed and struggled to get out of her mother's grasp. He snapped the door shut behind him, blocking out the curses of his employer which were carrying upstairs. He anticipated that he would be suspected for having caused the incident, but Burke wouldn't be able to prove it, and Tom was far too useful to fire over a disrespect that could not be proven. He would need to tread carefully around Burke for the next few weeks, though.