her dark soul

c h a p t e r 4 5

t h e d a y s
spent in the Maeve Manor were quite simply the most peaceful days of Tom's miserable life. The Manor seemed to exist outside of time itself. It was unaffected by the plagues of London or the fullness of Hogwarts. Everything outside of the grounds seemed irrelevant to the very few people who resided there. Even the House Elves– which Tom had only seen glances of besides that of the one that stood at Evelyn's mother's elbow at dinner, seemed to have a constant ease to their movements.

Hours were spent in the laziness of the summer sun in the gardens or the great cavernous belly of the twisting hallways of the manor. Every bit of it seemingly untouched for years.

Tom's favorite part of the house being the library at its center. Millions of books had been gathered there, so many that even the great isles of shelves that raised five stories high could not hold every tome. They had been piled on tables and on the floor, each pristine as if they were their own rare artifacts. There were so many books that he couldn't read them all in his lifetime or the next. He couldn't have even read them all if he found a way to live forever. If he had grown up in this place, his mind would never have starved for the knowledge of eternity. It would have feasted on every bit of information it could have.

Besides the books, the library had been carved to enrapture even the most apathetic of souls. The railing and ladders were made of bronze and had been shaped into the most delicate of scenes. Each one was sculpted to appear as if they had simply poured molten metal over the garden outside. The sun covered every inch of the room because of the great dome above, completely exposing the place. The sun's rays caught the dust in the air and made the whole room look like Evelyn's room of requirements.

This was the only spot in the manor that Evelyn seemed not to take for granted. Even the grand green houses and ballrooms, she regarded with a flippant kind of attitude. Tom was envious like he had never known before. That most days they spent in this house came close to perfect.

And yet, Tom knew he should not be so jealous of the place Evelyn had grown up. He, himself, felt the dark energy that crowded the halls and changed the manor into a different place. All coming from the nightmare that had haunted the rooms for years, who kept even the walls in his chokehold. He knew that when Evelyn never rose from bed some days, it was because the sunlight hadn't entirely chased away the demons from the night before.

Tom had never cared for anyone before. Never cared if they rose with each sunrise or if they died in their sleep. He never cared if one was being held down by sadness or laziness. He never once thought that he would prefer someone else's company to his own, but he needed hers.

This Evelyn was different from the haughty girl who dominated everyone's attention at Hogwarts. This was a girl who had been born into horrors unimaginable to him. Even though he had seen the brutality from her memories, he did not know the ghosts who held her here. And there was something inside him that needed to help her, something he thought would never be in his past, present, or future.
It was a beckoning that made him try to coax Evelyn out of bed on the bad days. Made him wrap her in her blanket and carry her into the garden so she could see the sky and know that it was all right. And though he didn't fully understand, he knew that if they sat outside in the summer breeze long enough, she would rest her head on his shoulder and smile.