O R P H I C. [Tom. R × Reader]

10. Shopping Spree.

=🌿=

Well, now we're in a shop. Full of potion ingredients. More of them smelling rather questionable than not.

My hand dangled loosely as my wrist was being moved around, back and forth as Riddle picked up a bottle of ingredients, examined the label, and either put it into his basket, or back onto the shelf.

There had been no speaking after the incident out in the street. Tom was busy mumbling to himself and scratching away at the writing in his book.

I wonder if he uses it as a diary. It seems quite similar to the looks of one. Maybe he writes his thoughts in there too, along with his shopping lists.

As we slowly, and lazily browsed the endless shelves, my wrist began to grow sore. But I won't say anything. It's not like this relentless boy would care anyway.

I pull out my phone that I'd shoved in my pocket. All with one hand, I open it, unlock it, open my notes, and begin a checklist. I'm so swag.

We've only covered the basics so far, like books, quills and paper and such. Now Tom has dragged me off to do his shopping. He's so impatient, I swear.

To Buy Checklist.
~Casual clothes.
~Shoes.
~Broom.
~Wine. (Because I need it)
~Animal friend / Pet.

And–because I'm so nice–I considered buying Tom a phone once I traveled back to London. Maybe. If he behaves decently, I'll think about it.

I don't think I'll need a muggle job, as I'm pretty certain that Gringotts swap in Wizarding currency for muggle currency.

=🌿=

Once Tom had decided that his basket was full enough, or after he'd crossed out everything he'd written in his book, we headed to the counter where an old man stood.

"Is this all?" He pulled up a smile from nowhere, taking the bottles and vials from the basket, checking the price stickers and writing the prices down onto a long strip of parchment paper.

Even though we're well into the twentieth-century, the Wizarding world still pretty much refuses to modernize things don't they? Well, I'm not saying that this way of living isn't quite nice, and aesthetically pleasing, but it must get annoying for some at times. Like this poor guy could use–at least–a magic quill in my opinion.

Once the old fellow had packed the items neatly into two decently sized paper bags, he folded the openings over twice and sealed them with a stamped glob of dark green, sparkling candle wax. I thought it looked cute.

Tom smiled and took the bag's, handing me one. They were quite large. Bigger than my satchel at least. He gripped my hand that ached from being lugged around unwillingly for hours, his hand was warm as it enveloped my small palm.

We stopped at a bench outside where Tom sat the backpack down, clearing space inside for the two paper bags. After we'd successfully fitted them in just nicely, we carried on to a shop I needed to visit.

"Where to?" Tom looked down at me.

"Madam Malkin's" I replied. I've noticed that now both Tom and I have grown quite familiar with the Alley, as we've passed quite a few shops and backtracked to others, the names from street signs and store fronts had pretty much been engraved into the patterns of our brains.

=🌿=

We'd reached the store and I was now browsing the clothes, finally putting my limp wrist to work. The clothing was average, I'd found a few nice patterned shirts, and warm knitted sweaters that didn't look so ugly. I came across a few pairs of decent pants.