Extra Ordinary (Riddle Era)

Chapter 8

The walk to Hogsmeade was miserable this time of year, but Tom didn't complain about it. He didn't want anyone thinking he couldn't handle something as simple as a cold, snowy walk and besides, Hornby did enough complaining for everyone present, giving them all got the usual lecture about how back in Cornwall it never snowed like this, much less for days on end and why had anyone decided that Scotland was a good place for a school?

No one answered or commented on Hornby's predictable tirade. Only Avery even reacted and he did so merely by mouthing the familiar words even as Hornby spoke them, leaving Lestrange, Rosier, and Mulciber to stifle laughs lest Hornby hear and lay into them for it. Tom, for his part, only smiled slightly at his housemate's antics, silently enjoying the way the others kept looking his way, waiting for his laughter like he had the last word on what made something funny. It was a very welcome break after dealing with Steele and her complete disregard for... well. For him.

Really, other than the cold, wet, miserable weather, this entire morning had been lovely as far as Tom was concerned, especially in comparison to his past few days. Lovely enough, even, to almost negate how awful the weather was. Almost.

Because the weather was still awful and Tom had at least been honest with Steele on one thing: he hated the cold. He hated the way it seemed to sneak under his clothes and slip beneath his skin to settle on his bones. He hated the way it reminded him of hours in the orphanage. Of nights spent half frozen beneath too thin blankets, refusing to join the other children as they huddled together because his pride was the only thing he had left. Well. That and because he didn't need to give Billy Stubbs any more fodder.

That thought brought a slight smile to his face. Or rather, the memory of how Billy Stubbs had paid for all the taunts and insults and pains of Tom's younger years did. He would never forget the boy's face when he'd found that stupid rabbit hanging from the rafters. It had been a cruel pleasure, Tom knew, but he had been starved for pleasure his whole life and at the time, he'd decided to take what he could get, nevermind how others might have judged it.

Now, Tom sighed, his breath pluming in the air before him as he resisted the urge to rub warmth into his arms.

"Three Broomsticks?" asked Lestrange as they neared the first few buildings of Hogsmeade.

Hornby, who had been interrupted mid-sentence, scowled and mtutered under her breath about 'having some respect', but nodded all the same. Both Lestrange and Mulciber, however, glanced at Tom, waiting for his response and, when too nodded, they all headed off towards the pub. Tom was more than glad of this, not only because it meant getting out of the cold, but also because the Three Broomsticks would be a hot spot of activity on a day like this and Tom couldn't deny that he would very much enjoy the opportunity to remind himself that he was the person everyone stopped to say hello to. And besides, he knew he'd been slacking lately. He'd been preoccupied with Steele and this would be a good opportunity to check in on everyone else and remind them, as much as himself, who exactly he was.

Indeed, no sooner had the group of Slytherins claimed a table than two passing Ravenclaws called hello, followed by a few Gryffindors and Horace Slughorn, who spent a good fifteen minutes regaling them with a completely unasked for tale of his connections to the current owners of the Firewhiskey brand.

He was distracted only when he caught sight of another apparently famous face and bounced off with several apologies that were precisely as unneeded as his story had been, though Tom accepted them all with a gracious smile and assurances that as much as they'd have loved to continue talking, they all knew what an important man he was and didn't want to hold him up.

Slughorn had blushed scarlet - exactly the reaction Tom had been looking for, and bounded away with a promise to finish the story some other time.

"Merlin, does he never shut up?" Hornby groaned after a moment, rolling her eyes at the professor's retreating back.