Chapter Forty One
December 25th, 1946
Tom elegantly walked across the marble floors, swiftly weaving through the many families of the Sacred Twenty Eight, who politely made way for him when catching eye of him. His eyes were on the back of her head, sharp and fixated. As though she felt his eyes on her, she vaguely glanced over her shoulder as she conversed with Black, the expression on her features plain. She was very serious that night, and Tom was curious to know why. After all, she was with her best friends, at last, yet she seemed more happy when they weren't here. Tom bit back a smile.
"Would you mind if I steal Grahamm from you for a second?" Tom questioned from behind her, flashing Alphard a polite smile that told him that he couldn't mind even if he had a choice.
Confused, Alphard gazed at Cerys questioningly through his spectacles, silently asking if she would be okay with Tom on her own. She gave him a tight lipped smile and a nod. Alphard simply returned it. Tom watched, intrigued by the silent exchange between them. Usually, they wouldn't be so quiet. Something had happened and Tom was more than curious to know. He prayed that Cerys had finally come to her senses and realized what a horrible influence Black was.
"You seem very sombre tonight, no?" Tom asked once Alphard had left, eying her closely. She wore an dark green dress that she had borrowed from one of Rosier's eldest sisters, who was now married and didn't want anything from before her married life and left it in a wardrobe with many other pieces of clothing that had never actually been worn. The shine of the silk danced across the dress as it fell to Cerys' feet, just a few centimetres too long, but it did nothing to negate its grace.
"I don't see why you're so concerned." Cerys said, the puffy arms of her dress sliding down her arms as she brushed her hair out of her eyes from both sides.
"Not concerned. Curious." Tom said. "Nonetheless, I came here to tell you that I'll be at your door at midnight."
Cerys raised an eyebrow. "Thank you for telling me. I'll be sure to lock them."
Tom rolled his eyes, ignoring her words. "Rosier will be arranging a room for us." Tom expected something along the lines of 'that sounds very scandalous', but he received nothing. "I'll be holding a meeting with the rest of the knights."
Again, the wizard expected the witch to protest and say something like 'oh, for Merlin's sake, it's Christmas, Tom. Give me a break." But she simply bummed as she stared off into space, making Tom frown. He cocked an eyebrow, silently telling her he expected a response.
Cerys rolled her eyes. "Tom, please. Not tonight." She said. "And if that's all you had to say, you can leave."
The girl turned around but Tom snatched her elbow before she could. "What is wrong with you?"
"Me? What is wrong with you? For the first time I'm quietly agreeing with what you have to say and you're upset about it?"
"And what if I don't want you to silently agree with me?" Cerys shook her head in confusion as annoyance briefly flashed over her eyes. What did this boy want with her? Tom, having realized his words, blinked a few times before clearing his throat. "I mean—."
"Ah, there he is." Tom quickly let go of Cerys' arm, who glared at him subtly. "Tom Riddle. We've been looking for you for quite a while now, haven't we?"
It was Mr. Lestrange with his wife, Mrs. Lestrange, Mr. Black and Mrs. Black. Reinhard trailed behind them, looking around distractedly. The Lestranges were dressed in black and red, Mr. Lestrange wearing a black suit with a red tie, whereas his wife wore a red dress that flowed from her waist to her knees. The Blacks wore red and blue, Mrs. Black sporting a dark blue dress with an open neck that showed off her collarbone, the fabric clinging to her body down to her knees as well. Cerys' jaw ticked a she looked at the Lestranges, Tom catching on to it quite fast.
"Oh, how are you, Tom?" Mrs. Lesteange asked, her maroon coloured lips barely visible, that was how hard she was smiling. Cerys didn't understand what was so fascinating about Tom, maybe it was because they were hoping for him to marry one of their daughters or nieces.
"I'm quite well, and how are you?" Tom asked, folding his hands behind his back.
"Oh, lovely, I am."
"And who is this?" Mrs. Black asked with curious eyes on Cerys. "I've never seen her before."
"An exchange student from Ilvermorney. She came in just this year. Grahamm, these are the Lestranges and—."
"I'm aware, Tom. You have no need to tell me." Cerys flashed him a tight smile while he glowered at her for cutting him off. Nonetheless, she turned to the two families. Reinheard's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Cerys Grahamm."
The Blacks and Lestranges looked no where near pleased with her rude interruption. Mrs. Lestrange silently scoffed, Mr. Black narrowing his eyes while the other two scanned her up and down with a pointed look.
"Funny, I've never heard of the name Grahamm. You aren't one of the Nobles in America, are you?" Mr. Lestrange suddenly said. Cerys shook her head. The nobles were the same as The Sacred Twenty Eight, all of pure blooded families that could be traced from generations. They held themselves high just like the Twenty Eight, but they were in much larger number. Fifty families were considered to be Nobles in all of America, and many of them having the symbol engraved into the sides of their wands.
"No, sir."
"And what is your blood status?"
"A ha—."
"Pure blood." Tom said, cutting Cerys off. The two parties sent Cerys a skeptical look before nodding curtly in acceptance. The witch beside him gave him a skeptics look, a deep frown pulling her lips downward.
"Yeah... a pure blood." She said slowly, sarcasm dripping from her words to which Tom laughed nervously while pinching the back of her arm. She knew why he lied. It would be a disgrace for him I have brought a half blood to an even exclusively for The Sacred Twenty Eight. She could practically hear him say, 'you should be kissing my hands for bringing you here.'
"Ah, how nice." Mrs. Black said. "And where are your parents?"
"They died a few years ago."
"Oh, dear." Mr. Black said, though, Cerys could tell that the woman didn't find much interest in the death of her parents, and the looks from the other three adults clearly said 'that explains her ill manners'. "Have you not anyone else?"
"She has me." Tom smiled, pulling Cerys into his side. Just barely, the two heard Reinheard snort, but he smoothly covered it by acting as though he choked on his drink.
Cerys scoffed. "Yes. Out of all the people in the world, I've been bestowed with the honour of having Tom." Said boy gritted his teeth in annoyance while Reinheard pursed his lips behind his glass, doing everything to hold back his amusement. Tom glared holes into the younger Lestrange's head, hand tightening around Cerys' arm.
"Oh, what a kind boy you are." Mrs. Lestrange gushed.
"Yes he is. Such a gentleman." Mr. Lestrange added.
"So, Tom." Mrs. Black. "How do you think of the party?"
"It's lovely Mrs. Black. Speaking of which." Tom said, nodding to the centre of the room where a few couples had started dancing to the music. "I was just planning to take Miss. Graham for a dance. If you'd allow me..."
"Oh, of course." They all said one by one in sync. Reinheard said, simply rolling his eyes at his parents and the Blacks. As if Tom needed their permission. Cerys' mouth opened to protest, but before she could Tom whisked her away.
"Smooth, Riddle. Real smooth. Ordering me in front of them so I couldn't say no, huh." Cerys said, glaring at him.
Tom grinned slyly at her remark as he placed his hands on her waist. "Are you complaining about dancing with me?" He said, feigning offence.
Cerys rolled her eyes. "You are so full of yourself." She said.
"Or maybe you're just lacking common sense. Anyone would be happy to dance with me."
"Like I said before, you're full of yourself, Riddle."
The pair danced for fifteen minutes, bickering as they moved across the dance floor, more couples joining in. From the corner of her eye, Cerys could see Rosier looking about every now and then, and she knew for exactly who. She felt awful. She remembered the second Fabula told her of her sudden arrangement with Lestrange, her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. How could they? The poor girl explained how she told them of her relationship with Evan, but they had showed no joy whatsoever. For the first time in her life, they were disappointed in her. They expressed how Rosier was not a serious boy, and she couldn't possibly have a good future with him.
They had chosen Lestrange for the very reason that he was not like Rosier. If only they knew that Lestrange was just as unbothered and careless but decided to show it in a much different way. But they didn't listen. They claimed their daughter needed a strong young man at her side, not someone like Rosier who couldn't speak to someone without blushing. It aggravated her, hearing what the Bulstrodes has to say about the young boy.
"Grahamm? Can you dance with me properly for once? You either zone out or can't stop complaining." Tom grumbled, earning a roll of her eyes from Cerys.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, my lord, that there are much more important things than you in this world."
"I hate you."
"Then stop dancing with me. You were the one who dragged me here."
"Well, it seems like a mistake."
"Well, you can fix this mistake by letting go." Cerys went to take a step back, but she was stopped when Tom didn't let up on his girl. Glancing up at him, she saw that he was looking behind her at Alphard, who was now approaching them.
"By is Black coming here?"
The answer was soon known when Alphard smiled boyishly. "Do you mind if I steal Grahamm back from you?"
Tom's jaw clenched, fingers tightening on their hold around the witch before him. "Yes, I do mind." Cerys looked Tom incredulously, Alphard's face falling as he pulled her back to the centre.
"I thought we agreed you let go."
Tom chuckled darkly at her words, shaking his head as he spun her around. Pulling her back in, he gently whispered. "No, you agreed for me to let you go. I didn't, and nor do I plan to."
Cerys looked up at Tom, utterly confused as her eyes searched his own. It sounded as though he meant something completely different than what he was actually saying, and she couldn't find the underlying meaning behind his words. Swallowing down the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, she took a deep breath in. "You're going to have to let go at one point."
"And what if I don't?"
"What do you mean what if you don't?"
"What if I don't let go? What will you do?"
Cerys blinked several times, unable to comprehend what Tom was saying. "I have a feeling we're talking about two different things." She finally whispered, and it was like Tom was snapped out of a trance of sorts. Looking away, he let go. The couples around them danced, ignorant of what was happening.
Clenching his fists, Tom gritted his teeth. What was the meaning of this? Of what he said? What was he saying? His blood burned as his mind whirled in confusion and frustration. He snuck a glance at Cerys, who shook her head and stared at him like she was trying to understand him, what was happening in his head.
"No, we're not." He finally said gruffly, avoiding her eyes. "We— we're talking about the same thing."
Cerys was concerned as she noticed Tom's heavy breaths and tense form. She wanted to say something, wanted to ask... but would it be appropriate? Helena Ravenclaw's words appeared before her eyes for a brief second as she blinked, as though they were engraved into her memory and on repeat in her ears. "Tom..."
Taking a step forward, she enveloped the boy's fisted hand in her own. She wasn't sure what possessed her to do it, and she didn't bother asking herself, it would be a question unanswerable. "Are you okay?"
Tom harshly snatched his hand back, taking Cerys by surprise. "Didn't you tell me to let you go?" He hissed just loud enough for the both of them to hear, leaning forwards threateningly. Her wide eyes bore into his own in fright, and he found his heart speeding up and his anger growing.
"I— didn't think you would react like this—."
"And what does it matter to you? Hm?"
She was left speechless. "I—I."
"Exactly. Don't act like you care, Grahamm. Go prance along to Black, that's what you wanted anyways, no?" Cerys' nostrils flared and her eyes lit up with the fire he always admired. On the other hand, Cerys was ready to slap Tom straight across his face, the tone he used with her not sitting right with her at all, laced with conceit and disgust.
"You know what, fine." Cerys ground out. "I will go to him."
The witch spun around in anger, but immediately stopped before taking a step forwards. Hesitantly, she looked over her shoulder, sighing sadly when she saw Tom walking away with fisted hands at his sides. What had happened? He seemed fine, until he suddenly wasn't. His question rang through her head, and what does it matter to you? Before she could even think over the question, Cerys' attention was stolen by the Rosiers, who had now asked the music to stop to make an announcement.
"Good evening, everyone!" Mrs. Rosier said, grinning widely with her husband who stood by her side at the very end of the room on the stage, a wine glass in both of their hands.
"We are very happy to have all of the Sacred Twenty Eight with us tonight and want to express our gratitude towards you." Mr. Rosier said. "And for this, we'd like to make a toast. So, please, grab a drink everyone."
The guests began to take drinks from the full trays that elves were carrying. Morning amongst one another, mostly complimenting the Rosier's.
"Tonight, we'd like to make a toast to all of you and to our strong bonds." Mr. Rosier said.
"Speaking of bonds." Mrs. Rosier said cheekily. "I'd also like to congratulate the Bulstrodes and Lestranges—."
Cerys' heart stopped.
"For creating such a beautiful bond between them and their children by arranging them together."
Cerys' head shot to her left, where the Bulstrodes stood. Fabula's eyes had squeezed shut in embarrassment, whereas her parents looked flattered. Just to the side was Reinhard with the knights, his face scrunching up in confusion, to his left was Evan. The look on his face was heart breaking, the poor boy looking between Fabula and Reinhard.
"To all of us." The couple at the stage said.
"To all of us." The entire ballroom bellowed, laughing and conversing cheerfully amongst one another, unaware of the teenagers in a state of anger, frustration, betrayal and confusion.
Before Cerys knew it, Evan was dragging Reinhard out of the ballroom. Fabula and Cerys pulled up their dresses and went running behind him, calling out for him to stop, but it was like he couldn't hear them. The ballroom was ignorant to the scene unfolding, so immersed in their own conversations.
Fabula gasped, stopping in her tracks just outside of the ballroom enterance, a loud crack sounding from the two boys. Cerys winced. Evan has punched Reinhard square in the nose. The boy grunted, landing on the ground.
"You—you traitor!" He seethed, landing another punch on the younger Lestrange. "You knew I like her, and you still— you— you're disgusting!"
"I swear, mate. I only heard of it now." Lestrange gasped out, pushing Rosier back.
"Don't lie to me!"
"I'm not! I swear to—." Reinhard's face snapped to the side, another blow. His nose now bleeding. "Would you stop!"
"Evan stop!" The two said at the same time.
Evan spun around, face red as he panted. "Is that why you weren't answering my letters? Is he why?"
"I'm so sorry! I swear, I didn't want this—."
"And you didn't bother tell me?"
"I didn't want to hurt you!" Tears were streaming down Fabula's cheeks as she tried to get closer to Evan.
"Don't!" He pushed her back. "Don't come near me."
"I'm so sorry."
"Didn't you tell your parents about us?"
"I tried—."
"You tried? What do you mean you tried?" Rosier's voice was now raising, eyes filled to the brim with angry tears.
"Rosier—." Cerys tried to calm him down before anyone from the party came.
"Don't Rosier me!" Hissed the boy. His state was pitiable. Eyes red with tears, face flushed in fury, brows furrowed in frustrating. "And what do you mean you tried? Unlike my parents, your parents always listen to you! You're their pride!"
"Evan, I tried so hard." Fabula weeped, stepping forward in efforts to get a hold of his hand.
"No!" He yelled, before his words fell down to a whisper, voice finally cracking as though signalling the end of the conversation. "No. You didn't try hard enough."
"Evan." Fabula cried, Cerys holding her back before she could run after the wizard. She knew Rosier needed space, and to allow Fabula to run after him wouldn't be the best idea.
"I'm so sorry." Cerys whispered, wrapping her arms around her friend.
✧
December 26th, 1946
The room was silent, dead silent. Cerys shifted awkwardly in her seat as she watched the knights. Rosier sat with clenched fists and bloodshot eyes, which he hid by staring down at his lap. Lestrange's head hung low as well, he looked humiliated as the knights stared at him in confusion and suspicion. Why would he do such a thing to Rosier? The boy claimed he hadn't known until tonight, but how was that possible? If anything, his parents would've at least informed him, right?
Tom let out an aggravated sigh. "Dolohov." He finally said. "You said you had done some research."
Clearing his throat, Antonin nodded. "Are—are you sure this is a good time?" The boy shrunk in an instant when Tom raised an intimidating eyebrow. Cerys frowned. He could at least understand the situation, and yet he decided to put all his knights in the same room.
"I do not want to repeat myself."
"Yes, my lord." Antonin muttered. "I—uh was researching magical objects and I came across a relic of Slytherin."
Cerys pinched the bridge of her nose as Tom's eyes lit up with mischief. "Go on."
"Tom, I don't think—." Cerys was cut off by a glare.
"Go on, Antonin."
"Er— Slytherin had a locket. I've only found sketches of it but there aren't any confirmed pictures of it. The most common is a roundly shaped jewel with an S engraved into it."
Tom nodded slowly, rubbing his chin with his thumb. Morfin had mentioned the locket, and how his mother had taken it. It was rightfully his now, and he would get it one way or another. "Perfect." He said. Speaking of relics, if he could use one relic, why not the relics of the other founders? "You are all dismissed."
Rosier was the first to shoot up from his seat, storming out of the room. Lestrange left the room last, shoulders slumped in shame. Cerys shook her head in disappointment towards Tom, who raised his eyebrow.
"Why are you so concerned about them?" Cerys gave him a baffled look, throwing her arms out besides her. "They should learn people come and go, it's a part of life. How will they come to use to me and this world when they can't get over themselves?"
Cerys scoffed. "Of course you think that way, because you think of them as your knights, Tom. I think of them as friends."
Tom rolled his eyes. "Just like you think of Black as your friend."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Tom." Cerys rubbed a hand over her face before she chuckled bitterly. "What am I saying? It's not your fault. You wouldn't know what a friend is even if it slapped you in the face."
So, I'm hoping that this chapter was as dramatic as I planned. We're also getting some progress with Tom and Cerys, which I'm super excited for. Tell me how you guys liked this chapter?
S. Hamilton xx