The Dark Dyad (Tom Riddle & ofc)

Chapter 9. The Gift

August 7, 1938

Sunday

Dawn was creeping outside the window, and I just found myself in my bed, ready to fall into a long-awaited sleep. The night commotion was intense, making me feel like I would sleep for at least a day. The firefighters arrived very quickly. The door eventually opened, the fire was extinguished. It turned out that only a corner of the room had burned. Mrs. Cole, hiding in a small bathroom adjacent to her chambers, inhaled a lot of carbon dioxide, had fainted, but had survived. Unfortunately. That was probably the only thing that really upset me.

The first week of August passed like a dream. Mrs. Cole seemed to feel that it was me, but from that moment on she no longer bothered Irene, as she did not bother me. She certainly never said anything, but such a clear sense of her fear certainly gave me inner peace. Life went into a measured course, if you could call it that. The last summer month came into full force, and my only friend and I tried to spend as much time outside as possible. Autumn was coming soon, followed by a monotonous winter. The anticipation of it all seemed insanely oppressive against the backdrop of the gray brick building.

It was finally a beautiful day when the children were allowed to walk around the city. Irene and I were the very first outside the iron gates of the orphanage, because our lack of contact with the other children was mutual. The letter "A" on the sign of the name of our abode had been hanging upside down for the third year. I looked up with apprehension every time I crossed the exit. Dying on the doorstep with an iron letter in my head was not in my plans, so I never neglected the ritual.

The day was sunny and warm, the spirits high. Everything made me feel like my feet would never tire of trampling the cobblestone streets of London. The small block of stores fascinated with its motley variety, where all sorts of things flaunted in the shop windows. It seemed that absolutely everything could be found here, from food to clothes. The scent of flowers and freshly baked goods was in the air.

"I hope one day we'll get a scone for breakfast," Irene took a deep breath of the appetizing aroma.

"Just for Christmas."

"Really?"

"Yes, at Christmas they give out an eclair or a doughnut."

"Oh, that's fine. I'll wait six months," she laughed.

Irene's gaze was fixed on something behind me, and I, led by interest, immediately turned around after her. It turned out that there was an inconspicuous little store not far from us. Little sandals clattered on the paved sidewalk, and the sound echoed down the street or in my head. As I followed Irene's trajectory, I realized the reason for everything that was happening: a dark dress with a white collar was hanging right at the entrance to the store, luring adult customers with their children.

"I have an idea," I blurted out coldly to Irene's back. She stopped immediately and turned her head defiantly slowly. Her eyebrows arched in mute question, but I just took her hand and sounded indifferent: "Let's go."

A couple of cherished steps, and we were inside. As it turned out, it was not even a store, but an atelier. Behind the counter came a plump woman, whose eyes shone with kindness. She smiled in a friendly manner, and said:

"How may I help you?"

"My sister would like to try on that dress that's hanging right at the entrance. May she?" I asked politely. Irene barely opened her mouth for a moment, but immediately closed it without making a sound. She's smart.

The woman gave us a thoughtful look, realizing that we were, if not from an orphanage, at least from a very poor family. We looked tidy, though. After a little hesitation, she nodded approvingly, unable to say no to the already destitute children. She took the dress off its pegs and escorted Irene to a small curtain that appeared to be a fitting room. In a few minutes there was a beautiful girl standing in front of me in a dark dress. The white collar was starched and looked impeccable. Two braids lay on her frail shoulders. A faint smile flashed across my face at the thought that Irene would finally have a dark dress, instead of the light one, which I constantly had to clean.