Archangel | tom riddle [stand-alone]

6 - duplicitous

February

1944

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Winter faded and spring rose like a phoenix from the ashes. All of a sudden the world awakened from a strange, dark dream, and ventured into a gorgeous kaleidoscope of bloom and colour. The earth laughed in flowers; Aurora listened to the melody of the wind as she followed him to the edge of the flowerful valley in the many sloping valleys that encircled the Black Lake.

"It's mainly my family," said Aurora quietly. "My little brother is ill, and so is my mother. Has been for quite a while now."

"Is that why you spend so much time in London with your elder brother Saiph?"

She nodded, overcome with guilt. "It sounds awful, I know. But I can't stand to be at home and see it."

"Well I'm not in your predicament Aurora, so I am not in any place to judge you for your actions."

Aurora could feel the tears already forming in her eyes. She hated discussing her familial matters with people; she avoided such intimate conversations entirely, or she just lied, not bothered to explain the complex predicaments that had befell the Archangel's in recent years. Luck never seemed to be in their favour, as if they'd all been dealt a bad hand of cards in life.

She liked making her life seem whimsical and perfect. She was the artist, a top-student, a social butterfly — how could she have been anything but?

The truth is, Aurora was in ruins and had been for a very long time.

She met Tom's eyes. She felt unmoored under his dark gaze, as if he was searching her face for answers to something. What, exactly, Aurora did not know. He always looked at her that way - with a sparkle of intrigue and intensity, with the cogs in his mind twisting and turning all the while to unlock a strange puzzle laid out before him.

"Cygnus is four," she continued softly, trudging over the grass. She sighed. "My mother... my mother, she has a cancer in her blood. She had an infection left untreated for so many years it has spread to the rest of her body. So my father is struggling right now. With his wife preparing for death and his son ill beyond medication, it's taken quite the toll on his mental health. I'm all he has, really. And he's an Auror, an amazing one at that. He's always away fighting at these dangerous missions to subdue Grindelwald and his stupid followers." She scoffed. "He hasn't been home in years."

Tom paused for a brief moment, as if unsure in what to say.

Aurora's mother was a muggle?

"And it's my friends," she pressed on. "I don't feel much of an emotional connection to anyone anymore! They've all disappeared. I don't know what to do. And then, my boyfriend, or whatever you wish to call it." Tom was looking at her intensely now, patiently waiting for her to continue as his nostrils flared. Aurora sighed. "I don't love Edmund, Tom. I don't know how I feel about anyone when I don't even really know how I feel about myself. I don't like Edmund romantically at all!"

"You aren't obligated to wear a mask in order to appease anyone. I think what you are battling is a war between who you truly are and who you wish - pretend - to be. And that boy," added Tom, a little bitter with his inflection (he could not understand his jealousy toward Edmund but it resided within him nonetheless), "Edmund Carrington?" Aurora nodded slowly. Tom shrugged trying to act nonchalant and nonplussed about it, looking ahead at the bright, sun-dappled horizon. "He doesn't see you for who you are which is why you might feel rather discomforted in his company."

"I already said that I don't know how I feel about him..." Aurora's voice trailed off.

"No, you said that you don't love him."

"I don't."

"Does he know that?"

Aurora bit down on her lip. She avoided meeting Tom's eyes, but her silence itself was a satisfactory enough answer for the both of them.

"Ah," was all he said in response. "Do you like him at all?"

"As a friend, yes."

There was a short silence.

"Just like how you like me as a friend?"

Aurora halted mid-step. "I guess so."

"You 'guess so'?" he quipped, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Tom, why are you being so cold towards me all of a sudden?"

"Why are you being so childish?" he retorted.

Aurora frowned. She felt like crying but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt her feelings. The tears welled up nonetheless — Aurora wore her emotions on her sleeve, after all. They were often so intense she couldn't bear it most of the time.

"I don't just like you as a friend," she said. "And I know that it's unfair how I have dealt with this situation. Trust me – I know! And I am sorry. I'm confusing myself with all this. I am fond of you, that is the truth of it all."

Tom pursed his lips together. He couldn't bear to see her cry but simultaneously it made him cringe. He hated crying. He hated sensitivity. Any form of weakness, no matter how small and slight, was akin to poison for him. He wanted to curl his lips in disgust and tell Aurora to get a back bone. But he also wanted to comfort her, he just didn't know how. After all, Aurora was going through a lot more in her personal life than just merely school relationships.