"If you give me your heart, I'll give you mine..."
"Huh?"
Tom was in a muddled, mind-numbing confusion, and she wasn't making proper sense. He was right to be puzzled by this strange situation. For some reason, he was sitting in a completely blank space with only one other person. A bright girl with hazel brown hair. You-Know-Who. However, the reason why he was there was not what was so befuddling to him. His thoughts lingered desperately on her words. What exactly did she mean by that? She wasn't making any sense, but at least this time she wasn't dead.
However, what she meant became quite apparent, when she stuck her hand into her chest and slowly pulled out her heart. Thankfully, it wasn't a pumping bloody valve of horror, like Tom expected it to logically be. It was a shiny, opalescent, heart-shaped crystal. She gestured for him to do the same and, strangely enough, he obeyed her illogical idea. Unlike hers, his was noir black, disfigured and scratched. It was an ugly, pitiful looking thing. It looked almost exactly like the ring he had stolen from his uncle. What did he do to make it like that? Oh well. He disregarded his sins immediately. The state of his heart wasn't what really mattered right now. To his understanding, she was purposing a trade, which he felt quite eager to accept. He wanted her heart. She took the small dark crystal from his hand and left her pure glistening white one in his palms. She placed his heart to her chest and in a split second it was being absorbed inside of her. Tom stared memorized at her heart but would not even think of doing the same. It was too beautiful. He could see his reflection on the glistening surface. His eyes were a horrifying red that went far beyond bloodshot. Suddenly, before Tom could even begin to think logically, she let out a loud phlegmy death hack. She started coughing up blood. Her eyes were replaced with a similar red that seemed to match his. He could see she was in so much pain, yet he simply sat there clenching her heart. It was warm and fluttering like a small bird. Even though it cost the girl so much pain he didn't want to give it back. He wouldn't give it up. Not to her, not to anyone.
Tom woke up in Slytherin dorms, just like any other morning. He had been having these kinds of horrid dreams all the time now, practically ever since he'd made the decision to tell her. They seemed to be a strange omen trying to convince him it was not the right idea, but naturally he decided to ignore them. It was not like the dreams had anything to do with reality. He didn't really have red eyes and she wasn't some dainty angelic creature who would think to make such a rotten deal. She was smarter than that. Tom's mind simply made up these silly things because it wasn't being put to use. It was the stress of feelings being bottled up over time. He needed to tell her soon before it got too much more out of hand. Tom glanced at the time, thinking he'd woke up at the usual hour, only to discover he was at least an hour late. His roommates were already filtering back in from breakfast and discussing what they were going to do with their day off.
Shit! I'm late...
Tom slightly scrambled to get ready. Today was Sunday and hopefully he would be able to get out one simple sentence without getting interrupted. Oh yes, he'd already had over a dozen chances to tell Frankie how he felt about her over the past few months. Despite the orphanage being the only place they could be somewhat alone, Tom had decided to tell her once they were back at Hogwarts. It would mean more if they were truly home, and the outcome had a higher probability of being favorable. However, every time Tom tried to confess, he always seemed to be interrupted by something. The Gryffindors especially loved getting in his way. Whether it was the girls pulling her away for petty gossip sessions, or it was hunting for Flobber Worms in the gamekeeper's garden with the boys, they never seemed to give him a secluded moment with her. It happened so often; he was starting to think they were all doing it on purpose.
"Where are you headed off to in such a hurry, Tom?" Lestrange asked, watching as Tom suspiciously jetted for the door. Tom didn't run for anything. Everyone knew that. He was also stupidly unaware that this wasn't the first time Tom was trying to disappear on a Sunday.
"Nowhere." Tom replied, automatically, not even stopping to acknowledge he had been talking to Lestrange. He probably should've come up with a better lie, but he was operating in a desperate haste. Tom exited the dungeons and headed for the Great Hall immediately. He only stopped when he saw the girl from his dream, looking completely normal, and waiting along the wall by the entrance. She noticed his arrival and her face immediately lit up in a smile.
"You're late!" Frankie fake-pouted, placing her hands on her hips in an overdramatic fashion.
"You're one to talk." he remarked, in retaliation. Her smile returned and they both departed at once. They walked down to the normal spot like they had been doing for the past five years. It was rather sunny for December. In fact, it was about as sunny as a summer day, which anywhere else would have been a concerning sight. However, this was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so no one batted another eye at the slight abnormality in the weather.
"It's Sunday." Frankie stated, looking up at the few clouds in the December sky.
"Really?—You don't say." Tom added, sarcastically. "Fancy meeting you here on a Sunday. That's such a rarity. Aren't I the luckiest gent in all of Hogwarts—"
"We're in our sixth year now..."
"So?" He was bringing his focus away from his book to listen to her, despite the fact she seemed to be mindlessly rambling on about nothing. She must've been getting to a point.
"I don't know. It just feels like time flew by so fast." Frankie sighed, collapsing onto the grass. A gust of wind swept her hair past her face, and he fixed it for her, rather affectionately. The December clouds were coming in to destroy the mysterious nice weather and they would be there soon. If he really hoped to confess today, he ought to do it before the rain. He set the book down and pondered a little on how he might bring it up today.
"It really has." Tom agreed. Sometimes it felt like only yesterday she had been escorted into the room by Mrs. Cole and they met once again. Only yesterday that she made Billy Stubb repeatedly punch himself in the face. Yet it also felt like he had found someone worth staying beside him ages ago. They had been on such a long adventure so far and it was still nowhere near over yet. There was still a whole magical life ahead of them.
"We'll be leaving soon."
"I suppose...but Hogwarts will always be here. It'll still be our home, regardless of whether we leave it."
She smiled. Obviously, she felt the exact same way as he did. Although, they both lived in an orphanage, this was the place their hearts were. Wool's Orphanage had become just like a horrible camp they were forced to go back to every summer. It had its few glimmering moments, meeting each other being one of them, but it wasn't home. Tom had been born and raised there and he still found more solace at Hogwarts.
"What do you want to do when you get out of school anyway?" Frankie asked, suddenly. "What's in Tom Riddle's future? I'm sure the whole year is itching to know, considering he's the most brilliant mind in our year and reportedly left his career counseling session last year without any job brochures."
"I don't really know yet," Tom answered, truthfully. Although, he had a desire to be a powerful, immortal wizard, Tom was not entirely sure that was an answer he wanted to give anyone who asked. Even if it was her. It had been far too easy to put the future on the backburner for a while. Fifth year had been even busier than they said it would be, what with studying for the O.W.L's, being a model prefect, and all that scheming to rid the school of muggleborns. However, now that it was over and they'd successfully made it to sixth year, Tom had no choice but to think about a plausible career and leaving school. "Slughorn says I should go into the Ministry, but I'm not so sure."
"Why not? You would be absolutely perfect for the Ministry, Tom. You have the most perfect grades and you're a star prefect. Pretty soon you'll be the Head Boy too!" she babbled, in such an excitement. In her eyes, he was brilliant. Although, many others were of a similar view, she was downright true and the only one whose opinion of him mattered. Tom smiled sincerely. The fact someone cared so profoundly about his future success was truly endearing. "It's only a matter of time, really."
"You'll be my Head Girl, won't you?" he inquired, trying to use some of his alluring charm on her. Unfortunately, it never did work on her properly like it did on others. She would've been his in a heartbeat if she'd ever let any of that fatal magic affect her.
"Don't be silly—Me? The Head Girl," Frankie laughed, in a tone that suggested it was more likely her becoming headmaster then Head Girl. "I'm not going to be the Head Girl. I wasn't even made a prefect."
"Well, you don't have to be prefect. You have just as much of a chance as any other girl in our year and I think you'd be absolutely perfect." Tom added, for a matter of fact. He managed to make her blush a little. A rare surprise. Like him Frankie was constantly praised for her abilities, but also like him, she only seemed to take it seriously when he confirmed it. "So, what are you going to do with your life once we're forced to leave this place? While I can't speak for our whole year, I can safely say that I'm curious to know what your future holds."
"Nothing. I don't want to do anything!" Frankie yelled, with a bit of frustration. The answer shocked Tom and it wasn't just because of her tone and seemingly quick lack of real thought. Surely, she had something in mind for the rest of her life. He had been slowly planning his future since he got there. He only assumed she was doing the same.
"Don't you want to be an Auror?" he asked, hoping it would turn on some sort of switch of inspiration in her.
"Not really. It was something my parents did, but I just don't think I would be right for it," she admitted, looking down at the grass. Now that Tom thought about it, that was always more of an expectation pushed upon her by people who knew her parents and assumed she wanted to continue their legacy. Suddenly, she leaned in close, looking him straight in the eye. "—Do you know what I really want to do?"
"Nothing."
"I changed my mind there is something I want to do."
"What do you want to do now?" Tom asked, with genuine curiosity. For a brief fleeting moment he prayed the sudden closeness was a sign of what she desperately wanted to do. She wanted to do something with him. However, she turned away for her answer.
"I want to live by the sea! Wouldn't that just be amazing?" she exclaimed, suddenly jumping to her feet and looking out at the glittering lake. "I'm sick of the city and the war. Let's move to the countryside permanently after graduation."
"So, all you want to do is live by the ocean? There's nothing else out there for you?"
"I think it would be a nice, quiet life. It would make me always feel free." Frankie added. He got her feelings immediately even without any further explanation. Tom was the only one who might ever understand her desperation to have freedom and exist in a place where it was rarely ever threatened. He felt the same. "Just me, Twilit, and probably a pack of like fifty Nifflers—"
"Maybe I'll come with you." Tom remarked, charmingly. It was mostly an attractive sort of line, but there was a bit of truth to it. Any life she was a part of would be his ideal.
"Yes!—We could live in a small house near the beach and go on walks every Sunday—" She stopped herself far too late. Her face was flushed with a feverish expression. In this fantasy, she had just purposed they were still living together. She might've even insinuated they would someday be married. Assuming that was not what Tom wanted, she had to save herself from further embarrassment, "—but I'm sure that's not part of your dream. You'll be the Minister of Magic and I'll be the seaside hag who scares even the gulls..."
"What if my dream is to stay with you? No matter where you go, or how many magical creatures you've adopted." he asked, wanting her to say more. He was so close to uncovering her true feelings. "What will you do then?"
"That couldn't possibly be your dream."
"—And if it is?" Tom asked. How would she answer that? She couldn't possibly answer him without revealing herself.
"It's a pretty stupid dream, Tom." Frankie stated, turning a little bit colder than she should have. However, unlike Tom's coldness, she made up for it immediately. "We'll always be together. Why would you ever think otherwise?"
Tom quickly shoved his ominous dream about the cautions of love into a dark box in his mind and demanded it to shut up and be quiet for eternity. Her perfect answer mixed perfectly with the romantic atmosphere and deserted setting. It seemed to be yet another wonderful moment the universe had graciously given him. The time to tell her how he felt was now. Quickly, before the inevitable disruption came in the form of nosy, interfering Gryffindors, or loud illogical nightmares trying to steal his nerve.
"Listen, I really have something to tell you."
"What is it?"
"I—I—"
"Found you, Tom—! I've been looking all over—"
Lestrange had popped up from out of seemingly nowhere. He'd discovered mid-sentence that Tom wasn't alone. It took him a second to notice he was with someone, another to notice it was someone they were meant to despise. Tom did his best to restrain his frustration of once again being disrupted and mental panic for having being caught red-handed.
"Lestrange, what are you doing here?" Tom asked, struggling to hold back the rage in his voice.
"I just wanted to know where you ran off to in such a hurry..." Lestrange answered, trying not to look over at Frankie. "Sorry. I didn't know you were with someone."
"It's okay. I was just leaving anyway," Tom added. He quickly turned away from Frankie and started to walk towards the road. He didn't even turn back to say goodbye, knowing that if he did he'd be in even more trouble. Lestrange gave one final glare at Frankie before he went to follow beside his leader.
"Why were you talking to her?" Lestrange asked, as they started the hill back up to the castle.
"Uh—I-I-I-" He had surprisingly never come up with a lie to in case he ever got caught with Frankie by someone with a bit of influence. After five years of not being caught by either Lestrange or Avery, it was a pretty understandable blunder.
"Oh!—I think I get it now." Lestrange remarked, suddenly, nudging Tom in the shoulder. He couldn't possibly get it. If he really got it, he'd probably be too disgusted to even talk to Tom, or would be running to tell the other boys of his treachery and debauchery.
"Exactly, what did you get?"
"You're only talking to her to mess with Malfoy," Lest range replied, confidently. He was pretty dim, and the answer was so wrong but was still much better than telling him the truth. "His fancy of that girl has gone way too far and you're handling it."
"Of course. Why else would I ever associate with a girl like her? She's the Heir of Gryffindor, after all." Tom remarked, reassuringly. While Tom wasn't exactly sure what Lestrange assumed 'handling' the situation was, he expected it had something to do with another Basilisk related accident and the rise of the Heir of Slytherin. He'd gain her favor and lure her to the Chamber of Secrets, where her body would lie forever, and no one would be the wiser. A brutal end to the Gryffindor line. "We were born to be enemies."
"I don't know what Malfoy sees in her. I mean, he can't just be in it to make his parent's skin crawl. She's a blood-traitor and a Gryffindor!" Lestrange spat, angrily.
"What would you think about her? I mean—if she wasn't a Gryffindor—would you find her agreeable?" Tom asked, curiously. Surely, he couldn't just hate her cause she was a Gryffindor. A magic, talking hat made a one-out-of-four decision based on arbitrary personality traits they exhibited when they were eleven. Then, society followed this system almost to a cult-like order and allowed it to control nearly everything. Yes, Tom had as much house pride as anyone else and he hated the Gryffindors, but it wasn't because they were specifically Gryffindors. He just hated them as people, like almost everyone else he knew. Tom actually thought his friends were better suited to boys like Quin and Monty, more than they were suited to him. However, voicing these truths would cause even more of an idiotic uproar.
"Well—I suppose—" Lestrange stopped himself from possibly admitting she wasn't so bad. There were rumors she was the one who nearly scalped Malfoy for getting too handsy and that was positively legendary. Clearly, there were some desirable traits hidden within her character. But, even though Tom had been the one to ask him, if he said something nice about her to his leader he would surely be dropped down in their imaginary ranks. He must return to his blind hatred of the girl, to keep up his own image as well. "—What kind of question is that? I'm not into saintly, blood-traitors, like Malfoy is. She's an insufferable goody-two-shoes and not even a pretty one at that!"
"You're right, Lestrange. She's not worth anything. Maybe I should just give up..."
There was a sudden crack of a twig that could barely be heard, but none the less had been heard. By the time Tom had turned around to look at the possible arrival of another person, whoever might've been there had already vanished from the path. He almost thought he saw a flash of brown hair go running behind the nearest corner, but he really couldn't be certain.
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Tom's senses were keen as always. Frankie continued to run as fast as her legs could take her. She'd heard nearly everything. It's not necessarily called following if you're going up to the castle as well, she reasoned to herself, as they all walked along. She might've been a little too close behind them, but she wanted to know what Tom talked about when he was with his friends. Clearly, it'd been something she would have rather not known.
Finally, Frankie collapsed on the cool grass out of pure exhaustion, unable to run any further. She must have jetted halfway around the school grounds to get away from boys who weren't even chasing her. The sky was beginning to grow even more cold and cloudy; it was most likely going to start raining any second now, but she didn't want to go back. There had been a moment, when she was sitting with Tom, where she thought he was going to say something important. He'd been trying for months now. She wasn't quite so dim not to notice his attempts. The boy who couldn't love was about to tell her that he loved her.
Or at least that's what she thought. But, now it couldn't be true. Not after what he'd just said to Lestrange...
"Who are you?"
She didn't even get up when she heard someone coming, footsteps in the grass. Hopefully, whoever they were, they would just leave her be. However, it was extremely hard to ignore her when she appeared to be dead, and it had just started to pour down rain.
"Frankie?—Are you okay?" the person asked. She didn't need to get up to recognize the voice was Quin.
"I have never been 'okay' in my entire life!" she yelled at him, being just a bit too overdramatic. She couldn't help it. Her mind was buzzing with questions. Frankie had always thought she knew Tom better than anyone, but suddenly it felt like she didn't know who he was anymore. It was such a small thing, yet it broke her heart so much to dwell on, "Just leave me alone."
"No...I'm not going away, until you tell me what's wrong!" he stated, standing his ground. He wasn't going anywhere, to much of her dismay. Such a stubborn idiot. "Do you really expect me to just leave you out here like this?"
"Fine! It's about Tom—Now, will you go away?" Frankie screamed, frantically waving her free arm in high hopes it would hit him. She knew that he wouldn't want to talk about Tom, and he would leave her be when he realized that's who this was about. Despite her orders, Quin stayed put.
"What did he do this time?" he asked, grabbing her arm and stopping it mid-swing.
"Nothing..."
"Nothing? Look at this!—This isn't nothing. You're literally on the ground sobbing over him. It's awful," Quin exclaimed, shaking her arm by where he had grabbed it on her wrist. "If you don't tell me what he's done, I'll go pick a fight with that arse for making you cry."
"I'm not crying!" she stated, sitting up to face him.
"Then, what's this?" he remarked, as he wiped a fresh tear from one of her blurry eyes. Despite the fact they were drenched to the bone and standing in the middle of downpour, it was still unable to mask her tears. "Please just tell me what he's done—He's a prefect and, if I bash his skull in, I'll probably get kicked out of school."
"If you promise you won't get into a fight with him, I'll start talking." Frankie added. It was a bit of a futile effort, but she did her best to regain her strength and not look so pathetic. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her sweater and removed small pieces of grass attached to her, red, splotchy, tear-stained face. It was such an ugly state, but Quin still didn't run away. He just smiled warmly and answered,
"I promise."
"I don't think I know who Tom is anymore. I heard him and Lestrange talking, and it was like he was a completely different person. They spoke down on me," Frankie explained, with a sorrowed sigh. "I'm such a fool. I keep falling for his lies. I really didn't realize I meant nothing to him."
"I highly doubt that's true," Quin replied, with a bit of a laugh at her 'misfortune'. Was that honestly what she was so upset about? "He was just talking that way because he's supposed to be the leader of the Slytherins. He's got a stupid, Gryffindor hating image to keep up. But, do you honestly believe that he could ever hate you?"
"But—"
"Look, even I know that he could never feel that way about you. You're all he actually cares about," he reasoned. "You should trust him. Not saying that I do, but—"
"Why are you bothering to defend him? I know you two absolutely hate each other."
"I'm defending him because it just wouldn't be fair to abuse this situation in my favor. I don't want to speak down on Riddle because I like you. I care about your feelings leagues above my own." Quin answered. "I'm an idiot too, but I've learned I ought not to belittle my rival when I could be showcasing my best self instead."
"I hardly remember that fight." Frankie mumbled. She didn't know what else she ought to say. Part of her always knew that their mutual animosity was somewhat her fault, but this was the first time it was presented to her with such honesty. Did he want an answer now?
"Good. I was being an arse." he concluded. It appears he wasn't looking for further discussion of his statements. At least not today. Quin extended a hand to lift her off the ground. "Come on, let's get up already. I think supper is about to start and it also might be raining on us, just a little."
"Okay." she answered, with a small smile. He helped her back onto her feet and they walked back to the castle together, talking much lighter and distracting conversation topics. They eventually reached the entrance and, to much of Frankie's surprise, Tom stood there waiting. His eyes addressed her like he was expecting a conversation. She waved goodbye to Quin as he continued to walk on without her. He had really helped her feel better. If he hadn't come along, she probably would've actually thought Tom secretly hated her. However, things still weren't entirely fixed between them. What had been sadness mere minutes ago, was quickly turning into anger and bitterness as she saw him standing there.
"Where have you been?" Tom asked her, yet he was watching Quin head towards the Great Hall alone. What had she been doing with him? Her face was red and a little splotchy. Had she been crying or was it just an effect of the rain? She was completely drenched.
"I've been down at Ogg's cabin with Quin, since you left with Lestrange." Frankie lied.
"Really?"
"Yes. Now, I'm off to supper. I'll see you in class tomorrow." she stated, curtly, quickly starting to walk towards the Great Hall as well.
"Um—wait just a moment! Slughorn wanted me to give you your invitation to the party." he added, holding out a silver envelope with her name scrawled across it. What Tom actually meant to say was that he had practically begged Slughorn to give him her invite, so they could make plans to go to the event together again.
"Thank you." Frankie replied, accepting it and attempting to stuff it into her clearly wet pocket.
"—Here take this too. I don't want you to get sick." he added, quickly unfastening his winter cloak and beginning to drape it over her.
"I'm fine, Tom. I'll get it all wet..." she groaned, still trying to escape him.
"It'll dry much faster in your dorm, trust me. The Slytherin common room's fire is purely for decoration. Also, if you get sick before Slughorn's party, he won't ever forgive you." Tom insisted. Frankie nodded and let him tie it around her. She gave him no wave, or soft little smile, as she dashed off into the Great Hall to join Gryffindor table. Something was obviously amiss. Tom could sense she was not telling him the truth about where she had been and something else had happened to her that she didn't want to talk about. Hopefully, she didn't hear him. It had to be anything but that. The flash of hair he thought he'd seen was just his mind playing cruel tricks on him again.
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Over the next week, she was acting even more strange, even more distant and out of reach. Talking to Quin more in Potions, giving him half-assed excuses when he tried walking with her to classes or talking with her after supper. He didn't realize until Friday, when he finally asked her what was with her, did she so bitterly answer, "I'm just trying not to ruin your image." Which caused Tom to apologize several times over, realizing she had actually heard him talking with Lestrange that day. Frankie said she forgave him, but Tom still thought she was acting cold. He would have to show her that everything he had said wasn't remotely true and there was only one way to show her he meant it.
Confessing.
Tom needed to try again and do it soon, before he lost her completely. Luckily, Slughorn's party would be that Sunday. The night of the party he could try yet again to steal a real kiss and tell her how he felt about her. It would be a special occasion in a romantic setting, and there would be no other Gryffindors to possibly stop him. It was the perfect plan.
Time seemed to move a lot slower, now that Tom had something so eventful planned for the evening, but eventually it was the night of Slughorn's party. Thankfully, despite her anger towards him, Frankie agreed they could go down together like always. He stood in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady waiting for Frankie to come out, looking a lot more dapper than usual. Although, he looked handsome on a normal basis, he had somehow managed to look even more princely and dashing. It was probably that mysterious hair oil he stole from Malfoy.
"So, you're finally putting the moves on her tonight, eh, kid?" the Fat Lady asked, nosily, as the two were waiting for her to come out.
"Please don't call me a kid. It's been five years. You know my name," Tom replied, rubbing his forehead. She always gave him such a headache. "—And what do you mean by 'finally'?"
"You're slower than molasses. Slower than a Jane Austin novel. I thought you would've confessed how you felt about her ages ago!" the Fat Lady groaned, exasperated.
"Who are you to talk? Last time I checked you're not a Bennet." Tom snapped back. Although, she certainly had the same annoying enthusiasm for matchmaking as Mrs. Bennet. She raised an eyebrow at him. He might've accidentally read Pride and Prejudice when Mrs. Cole's copy was making its way around the orphanage in an unauthorized book borrow. There was little else to read, and he was bored. The novel wasn't terrible because it was so clearly written for a female audience. It was impossible not to find Elizabeth a compelling character and he somewhat enjoyed to read about the trials of coming from an excessively large family when he had none. Pride and Prejudice ultimately was just not exactly his cup of tea when it came to literature. He was, however, relatively fond of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.
"You must be forceful for once in your life!"
"Forceful?"
"Yes! For god's sake, just kiss her already. I don't want to hear any more of your petty excuses! Enough is enough."
"I can't believe I'm even listening to romantic advice from a painting, of all things..." Tom sighed.
"—Well, who else could you get it from? I take it no one else knows about your secret little crush." she laughed, cruelly. She was right... He had no other sources to advise him in matters of the heart and he wouldn't exactly like to start taking on Mr. Darcy's methods of courtship.
"I don't really need to take it from anyone. Despite what you may think, I have all of this under control." he replied, confidently.
"Really? How many years has it been now? Five years, and she still has no idea." the Fat Lady retaliated, with a bit of a cocky smirk. Again, she was right. "—And what of the aftermath? What do you plan to do about that?"
"Aftermath?"
Frankie suddenly emerged from the portrait hole, clad in a dusky aqua drape neck dress that settled at her knees, which had probably come straight from Daphne's wardrobe, considering Frankie owned only two fancy evening dresses. Her long hair was down her back in wavy ringlets, not too tampered from her normal hair. She had come out of the portrait hole in the midst of Tom's pointed question, but appeared not to have heard them talking. Frankie looked back and forth between the two with suspicion.
"Were you two arguing again?" Frankie asked, although that fact had been quite obvious.
"Ah, yes and I've actually won this time," the Fat Lady giggled, clapping for herself. "Now, you two better be going. Don't want to be tardy to the party."
"Alright, I'll be back in a little while."
"Oh please, dear. Take your time. Why if I had legs—"
"Thank you, lady. However, we're in far too much of a rush for another one of your 'what I wouldn't do to have legs' speeches." Tom added. He quickly turned to leave; her hand being taken away with him.
"What are you doing?" Frankie asked, clueless, looking down at their intertwined fingers as if this was the first time he'd ever dared to hold her hand.
"I don't want you to trip," Tom explained, looking down at Frankie's three-inch Lucite heels. "You're the clumsiest girl I know. Those shoes will make you trip down one of the trick steps for sure."
"Thank you." she sighed. Her expression was a little unreadable. As if Tom wasn't nervous enough, he had unconsciously insulted her. Not a good note to start the evening on.
The two walked down to Slughorn's office, following the sounds of the loud gossip and jingling melodies, as they grew closer and closer. It would seem the party was already in full swing. It was still rather unknown exactly how Slughorn created such lavish spectacles. They arrived at the large room filled with laughter and pure holiday cheer. Just looking at it could make someone sleepy and exhausted. The same hangings covered the walls with mounds of tinsel and holly. They could barely see that a person was shuffling their way through the crowd to meet them. Suddenly, Daphne was spit out of the bustling group of partygoers and practically fell at their feet.
"I'm so glad you're finally here!—Come on, let's go!" she yelled, immediately getting up and pulling Frankie towards the crowd.
"Go where?"
"You'll see..."
Tom could only watch as Daphne hastily dragged Frankie into the chaos and disappeared. He had forgotten that she and Monty were also members of Slughorn's elite and would be here. Shit!
Frankie didn't know where Daphne was taking her, but it just seemed like they were walking through a never-ending sea of people. Until, suddenly, she'd lost her grip. Frankie looked around the room of cladly dressed stars, in slight panic to find her friend, but to no avail. All she got were stares from random people in the crowd. She straightened out her dress and tried to act normal, but they kept staring. Perhaps she should've chosen a more festive color of dress. Perhaps she should've tied up her hair. Perhaps they recognized her as the famous Frankie Dickson now that she wasn't dead. She picked some strange looking tart off a nearby waiter's tray, trying to look like a casual socialite, yet coming off as a nervous stiff.
"Found you!"
"Huh?" She looked up at the waiter's hazel eyes and jumped up in shock, dropping the tart onto the floor. Quin was dressed in a waiter's uniform holding the tray she had grabbed the tart from. "Quin!—Bloody hell, you scared the life out of me. What are you doing here?"
"Ethan and I sneaked in." he answered. Surely enough, Ethan was chatting to Monty on the other side of the office. Of course, if one of them was around the other two had to be somewhere nearby.
"In disguises?" Frankie giggled, looking the white dress robes up and down.
"Do you really think I'd actually wear this to a party?" Quin added, looking down at the uniform as well. He looked ridiculous. The white dress robes didn't suit anyone, let alone him. "Credit me with some taste, Dickson."
"Why on earth would you want to come to a thing like this?"
"Well, since we're not getting a Yule Ball, I'm probably not going to ever get another chance to ask you for a dance." Suddenly, he was offering out his hand. Frankie considered the offer for a moment and decided it was one she wanted to take. In a spur of the moment, she decided yes, and he pulled her through the crowd. They ditched the tray of tarts onto the nearby refreshment table and then they swayed over by the band. Unlike when she danced with Tom, with Quin she felt it was okay to be so imperfect. Her nervousness faded as they swirled around to the jazzy tune, with goofy smiles on their faces, crashing into all the other couples dancing. She stepped on his feet, and he just laughed at her. It was fun and easy. Quin had always made her life feel that way.
"Did you really break in here just to ask me for a dance?" Frankie asked, in the midst of their mindless twirling and frolic.
"Actually, that's not entirely true." Quin admitted, truthfully. "There's something else I wanted to ask you..."
Tom shifted his way out of the crowd, having just spent the past hour and a half as Slughorn's 'little champion', prized student of all prized students. He had been meeting famous people who could help his future and putting up his charming façade, with an almost flawless perfection. However, none of that mattered to him right now. That wasn't what tonight was supposed to be about. It was about not being a coward anymore and finally telling Frankie how he felt, regardless of what it might do to affect his social standing. Unfortunately, he couldn't find anyone he knew in this crowd, let alone Frankie. Tom regretted not keeping her more attached to him because no matter how hard he searched she could not be found and now his time was running even more thin. But, just as that hopeless thought struck, she appeared out of the crowd with a noticeably big smile on her face. She'd probably been laughing with her friends, hidden away somewhere and she finally excused herself to come find him. Tom grabbed her before he could lose her again and started to head towards the empty corridors.
"What are you doing, Tom?" she asked. He didn't answer. Tom leaned into her, actually taking the Fat Lady's advice for once and just kissed her. A gentle kiss on her lips and thankfully she didn't pull away, she moved closer to him. Tom always thought her smile was what he liked most about her, but her lips were putting up a good competition against themselves. He finally got those idiotic couples at Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop and the ones practically glued together in secluded corridors. It was an intoxicating feeling, that made you feel like you were full of electricity. Unconquerable. She'd given him more power than he'd ever had before. The pressure of his lips on hers were just starting to get a little harder, Tom unable to control himself after what felt like a lifetime of waiting to be this close, when she finally decided to pull away from him.
"Idiot—I'm tired of waiting for you to figure out how I really feel about you. You've wanted the truth—well, this is the truth," Tom took a deep breath. This was crazy, but he couldn't go back anymore. He had to tell her. "I'm mad about you... I've always been idiotically mad about you. I ardently love you and pray that you could feel even a fraction of the same way after everything I've done."
Frankie stayed quiet and bewitched. She was examining his face as if she were seeing it for the first time. Tom's heart quickened more rapidly at the slowness of her reaction. There was something clearly not right. If she truly felt the same, she would've instantly smiled and told him that she loved him too.
"What's wrong? Am I no good?" he asked, quickly noticing her pained expression.
"It's not that, it's just..." she started. The words were still not wanting to come out, but she was forcing them to anyway.
"What is it? Tell me." Tom didn't understand what could've been wrong. Why was he failing? She didn't pull away from his kiss right away. So, why did she look so heartbroken?
"Quin has confessed to me, and I told him that I feel the same way."
"You can't be serious!" Tom yelled. Frankie might as well have hit him in the stomach with the Knockback Jinx because he felt instantly nauseous at the impact of this particular blow. Although, he'd told Marjorie it didn't matter if Frankie didn't love him, that was apparently a lie he'd mostly told to himself to try and weaken the intensity of his own feelings. "Why didn't you tell me before I made a complete fool of myself?"
"You just kissed me! When would I have possibly gotten the chance?"
"You don't love him."
"How could you possibly know that? Maybe I don't feel that way about you," Frankie yelled back at him. She was furious. How dare he try to tell her how she felt? He didn't have that kind of power over her. "—And maybe, if you really loved me, you should've worked up the courage to tell me before it was too late! You had so much time, Tom..."
She stormed off into the pitch black, trying to hold back the forming tears in her eyes. Frankie was lying to herself too. She really did love Tom. After everything they'd been through and everything he'd done for her, it was impossible not to be in love with him. But, she didn't necessarily just like Quin either. She didn't just say yes because he got there first, despite Tom's conviction that had been the only reason. He wasn't always the most kind to her either, but he never made her cry and made sure she was having a good time. Tom did not always treat her in such a manner. Quin also was a great deal more honest, while Tom had a long history of lying and deceit associated with his name. How did he expect to be with her if he thought they couldn't even be seen in public together? Frankie had honestly thought Tom's love was not in that way for a very long time, even though there were a couple moments this year especially that proved that was obviously not the case. It was very confusing and all she wanted to do was sink into a deep sleep and forget about everything. Frankie arrived at the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room a couple minutes later. She didn't even have to mutter the password before it swung open. The Fat Lady could just tell by her face she was in no mood to say anything.
Tom stood alone right outside the office entrance, feeling a mixture of idiocy and fury. If only he had told her a long time ago. Then, he wouldn't be standing out there after sending the girl he loved running away crying. He wouldn't have just ruined everything. She was right. He had waited too long. But what was he supposed to do now? What was going to happen to them? Tom thought he should hate her for making him feel like such a fool and rejecting him. However, he really didn't. Tom was still mad about her, not at her. A shadow appeared in the empty corridor. He couldn't see their face, but he could hear the clacking of heels.
"I'm sorry! Won't you please just listen to me?" he exclaimed, in a moment of desperation, grabbing the wrist of the dark figure. However, as the dark figure was illuminated in the light from the office, it was the far opposite of Frankie.
"Sorry. It's just me."
Lyra appeared from the mysterious figure in the dark and Tom instantly let go of her pale slender wrist. Her long blonde hair was braided to the side, and she was wearing a dress quite similar to Frankie's, but in emerald with black peep toe heels. Her ruby red lips were curled in a sickening sweet smile that didn't fit her. He would've rather seen Frankie's smile more than anything else in the world right now, but there was a slim chance that he would ever see her smiling at him again. After what just happened. After what he just did to her.
"Is there something wrong?" Lyra asked, curiously. Of course, there was something wrong. Everything was wrong.
"It's nothing."
"Oh, really— because I saw that display just now," she admitted. "I hate to say I told you so, but I've always said that you two were just too different."
"Could you please just leave?" Tom begged, trying not to explode with anger. He was in no mood for this horrid bitch to be spouting the same old nonsense in his face. He just wanted to be alone. "Go back to the party, Lyra..."
"No, I'm not going to leave. Not now and not ever. She may not love you, but I most definitely do, Tom," Lyra replied. Tom considered those pale grey eyes he had loathed for so long. She was the same girl from first year desperate to shake his hand. A girl who was threatening, cold, and heartless. Tom didn't want to ever admit to himself that they were more alike and, if Frankie weren't ever in the picture, they probably would be together. "King and Queen of Slytherin, we've always been meant to be."
She had used speeches like this before, but in this moment, he was weak enough to let it work on him. Frankie was finally with Quin. A Gryffindor, just like Lyra had always predicted she'd end up with. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor were never meant to be together, and he had been foolish to ever assume otherwise. Lyra accepted all the evil and the coldness, she'd never mentally tried to form him into someone he was not. Frankie had made her decision. And he had made his,
"Fine. As you wish, my queen. Whatever you want..."