"she was the type of person who'd explain how she was going to stab you in the front before she actually shoved the knife in... and you'd let her.
she'd probably even pass the knife to you so you can shove it in your own chest...and you would."
tom...
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t h e i n v i t a t i o n was left on his desk three days later. Tom had been surprised by the crisp envelope because he was sure he would never hear from Evelyn again. He had even been contemplating packing his things and going to the very address that was on the bottom of the stationery.
He had not seen her for the rest of the day after he had so stupidly told her there was nothing between them. And for three nights, she had not returned to her bed, nor had she stopped her mother's cries. Tom had not bothered trying to silence her himself; she wouldn't have known who he was anyway. Instead, he had kept to his room after the second day, a silencing spell tight over the space.
But now here was the invitation, cordially inviting him to the Malfoys ' end-of-summer ball. He had received one every year, but had ignored them. He had not the funds, nor the way to get to the ball, and he hadn't ever wanted to be introduced into society as a low-born Muggle.
He wondered if Evelyn had ever attended, and if this was some kind of peace offering. To show that she wanted him by her side. His owl hadn't delivered it to him, so Abraxas must have sent it to her. Tom didn't like the idea that Malfoy knew where he was.
Tom picked up the heavy paper, thick and rich. He could smell the rich cologne of Abraxas Malfoy, but there was something under it, too. The feminine warmth of amber and vanilla. The scent he knew solely as Evelyn. She must have had the invitation for days before she had handed it over to him.
He wanted to ignore the invitation, but as if Evelyn had read his mind, she burst into his room. It had been a month since he had seen her so put together. Her Muggle dress wrinkle-free, and her hair smoothed into submission. She was back in heels that clicked as she crossed the room to him.
"A ball," Evelyn said, a slight smile on her lips as she plucked the invitation right out of his hands. "Is a perfect way to continue with your plans."
"Where have you been?" Tom spat as he snatched the paper out of her hand again, suddenly furious.
"Out," She said just as bluntly. "I was seeing to things that do not concern you. I have many responsibilities that you are not privy to."
"Like what?" Tom argued, sure that she was lying to him more than ever.
"Like getting you ready for the ball," Evelyn said, completely flippant and unconcerned with his questioning. "Now get yourself ready so we won't be late for your appointment."
"What appointment–" Tom started, but Evelyn, who had yanked the paper out of his hand once more and threw it on his desk, cut him off.
"Hair, then shoes, then dress robes," She listed as she looked at him expatantly before leaving the room again so he could get ready.
Tom, at a loss for words, started doing what she had asked. He picked out one of his Muggle outfits. Something he had seen most of the boys wear around his age. Dark trousers with a white short–sleeved button-up. He paired them with his saddle shoes he wore at school, since he didn't have many options.
