Tom sat alone in the Great Hall, prodding the steak and kidney pie on the plate in front of him with his fork. He was lost in thought, contemplating the events of almost three weeks ago.
The night in the Shrieking Shack replayed like a film constantly in his mind. Fenrir Grayback would have killed Ellison given the chance. That, he was sure of. But what Tom wasn't sure of was why he reacted the way he had. He had been consumed with rage when he had descended the staircase to see Grayback's hands clasped around her throat and he had lost count of how many curses he had cast at the mutt before he had finally stopped. But why?
That seemed to be the ever present question concerning Ellison. He had been faced with that exact question from the men he had met in the Shack that night. He had simply explained that a Hogwarts student found dead at the hands of a werewolf would have only complicated things. That of course, was true.
Tom could only imagine what the ever watchful eye of Dumbledore would conclude if Ellison had been killed. It would have undoubtedly put a hold on any plans Tom had had. But was that why he had saved her? Were his actions simply to cover his own tracks? He wanted desperately to believe so. But something told him that hadn't been the case; that there was more to the story than he cared to admit to himself. He had felt something that night. Something he had never felt for himself, much less anyone else. Fear.
He had feared for her safety ... for her life. But why? Why had her wellbeing been so important to him that he had jeopardized everything he had worked for? Grayback had been infuriated when he had awoken from the unconscious state Tom had left him in. It had taken a good bit of persuasion, and intimidation, on Tom's part to convince him to aid in his plans. Tom couldn't risk everything for her again. He wouldn't.
Tom was pulled away from his thoughts at the sound of plates hitting the table. He looked up just in time to see Avery and Lestrange take a seat across from him.
"So, when's the next meeting?" Avery asked as he shoveled his own helping of steak and kidney pie into his mouth.
"Would you keep your voice down?" Tom instinctively glanced over his shoulder before glaring back across the table at the pudgy boy sitting across from him. The Great Hall was almost empty, but he wouldn't risk anyone overhearing them.
"Sorry," Avery mumbled through a mouth full of food. Tom grimaced at the sight of him. Avery wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed, but he was loyal, as was Lestrange. That was what made them both such good followers. They did as he asked without question.
"We won't be having another meeting until the end of the year," Tom replied in a low whisper.
"End of the year? But it's only November!" Lestrange spoke up.
"I know what month it is," Tom shot back. Avery and Lestrange had arrived only minutes before and they were already wearing on his patience. "It's too much of a risk to meet again-"
Lestrange cut him off, "yeah, we wouldn't want any uninvited guests showing up again." Tom glared at him. His words had been a dig whether Lestrange had meant them to be or not. As if realizing he had misspoken, Lestrange averted his gaze from Tom's icy one, settling his eyes on the plate of food in front of him.
"As I was saying, it would be too much of a risk to meet again. I'll have you two send word to the others through owls from now on." Avery and Lestrange nodded, but their eyes were fixed on something behind Tom. He turned to find Ellison's petite frame standing before him. The two boys cleared their throats uncomfortably before standing up, making a nodding motion with their heads towards Tom before walking out of the Great Hall.
"You'd think I had the plague, the way those two are avoiding me." She sounded amused. His and Ellison's relationship hadn't changed since the night in the Shrieking Shack. They had attended classes together as usual, had eaten meals together on occasion, and had even taken a trip to Hogsmead the first Saturday of November.
Tom had contemplated distancing himself from her after the incident but deep down he had known Ellison would have made it impossible for him to do so. She was persistent. He had to give her that.
"Do they still have no idea I know they were there that night?" She asked, sitting down on the bench beside Tom.
"No clue," Tom replied, continuing to pick at the food on his plate.
"What is it?" She was looking at him now, trying to read the expression on his face.
"I have a lot on my mind," Tom replied stoically. She furrowed her eyebrows.
"I wasn't intruding on one of your secret meetings again, was I?" She smirked. Tom glanced up from the food he had neglected to eat, and gave her a warning look. She had prodded him for answers several times since the night in the Shrieking Shack, and every time, Tom had given her the same look and response.
"I've told you before. Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to."
"But what if I do want the answers?" She retorted. He smirked. She was persistent.
"Let me rephrase it for you then. Don't ask questions that you won't like the answers to." She pursed her lips at his response. He had won ... For now.
~
Ellison laid propped up on her elbows on her bed, catching up on some reading for Charms class. Tom had, once again, shut her down when she had questioned him earlier that evening. She had tried to get answers out of him on several occasions since that night in his bedroom. But, it was starting to look like that had been the only information he was going to give up.
She closed her Charms book and sat up. She had told herself over and over that she didn't need to know what Tom was up to. That it didn't matter. That it was probably best she didn't know. But she couldn't shake the nagging feeling she got whenever she was around him. The feeling of wanting to know more. Needing to know more.
She had so many questions. All of which, Tom had been completely reluctant to answer. After the night in the Shrieking Shack, and Tom's brief moment of vulnerability in his bedroom afterwards, he had acted completely normal. As if the events of that night had never happened.
She had tried to piece together the little snippets of information she had managed to gather. She had scoured the library for books on Albania. She had even looked through the restricted section for anything that mentioned Horcruxes. She had come up short on both accounts. Why he was planning to travel to Albania she had no clue, but when it came to what a Horcrux was, she had even less of an idea. All she had managed to conclude was that a Horcrux was some form of dark magic, and she had only managed that from the title of the book she had found the mysterious word in.
Tom was good at keeping secrets. He always had been. He was up to something; that much she was sure of.
Ellison climbed off the bed and left her room. As she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, her eyes fell on her target. There, in his usual place in the corner of the common room, was Tom. He sat in an emerald green arm chair. His brows were furrowed in concentration at the book that lay in his lap.
Ellison crossed the room that was occupied with a small crowd of students, and sat down in the chair adjacent to his, though Tom seemed not to notice. She cleared her throat, announcing her presence. Tom cocked an eyebrow, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Hello." He said casually, returning his attention to the page he had been reading.
"What book are you immersing yourself in tonight?" She leaned forward, eyeing the page Tom had been reading. Tom tilted the book up, obstructing her view and smirked when she scowled at him.
"You just can't help yourself, can you Pennifold?" Tom asked, turning the page.
"Well I wouldn't have to be so nosey if you weren't so hell bent on keeping secrets," she retorted, rolling her eyes. Tom said nothing, but the smirk on his face grew wider. He turned the book up, allowing her to read the cover. 'Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimensy.' "You're reading about Occlumency?" she asked, thoroughly confused.
"If you want to succeed in Legilimensy you have to know how to do both," Tom said matter-of-factly as he turned another page.
"I didn't know you were interested in Legilimensy," Ellison said, giving Tom a questioning look.
"You didn't ask," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly, the smirk he so often wore threatening to surface once again.
"Speaking of asking questions, I have one for you." Tom gave her a suspicious glance but said nothing. She drew in a breath and asked the question she had been too afraid to ask for three weeks. "What is a Horcrux?" The words came out steady, almost casually. Tom stared at her. His expression told her he had expected the question to come up eventually.
"Ellison," Tom breathed, his jaw clenching and unclenching. She hadn't expected him to answer, but she had needed to ask nonetheless. "What you saw, that night..." Tom paused, contemplating his next words. "It was mere coincidence that particular page was marked-"
"But why did you have the book in the first place?" She cut him off, her question tumbling out before she could stop it. He stared at her, making her look away uncomfortably.
"Yes. I had the book." He began coolly. "Last I checked I'm allowed to read whatever I please."
He had regained his composure but his eyes remained narrowed. She stared back into is dark eyes, searching for truth in his words. She wanted desperately to believe him. To believe he wasn't experimenting with the Dark Arts. To believe that the page he had marked had been a mere coincidence and that Horcruxes, whatever they might be, were of no significance to him.
"Okay," she breathed, deciding to give up on her quest for answers ... at least for the night.
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Yay for Chapter 7!!! I have been dealing with some serious writers block this past week so sorry for the delay! Let me know what you think about the two POV's! I'll use it more often if you like it.