Sacred Silence | A Tom Riddle Story

50: His first Horcrux (Part 2).

Hours passed in a blur. Shiv couldn't really remember much of what happened during most of that time. She drifted in and out consciousness and dreams.

They would start with her seeing someone in the chamber with them. Someone she knew wouldn't be able to be there; Florance, Professor Slughorn, Cillian. But they would look so real, standing there. She would try to talk, make any noise at all, but to no success.
Then her surroundings would change, and she would enter a feverdream like state. She had a memory of a tea party with Altair in a meadow full of tulips, sailing across an ocean with a crew of pirates.
These would rapidly turn into horrible nightmares, which she couldn't really recall, but left her with a terribly anxious feeling, like she had to be somewhere or do something but was unable to get there.

The first clear moments came when she realized she was on her hands and knees again, staring at an unfocussed point beneath her. She squinted her eyes and made out the stump of a candle. The only thing left was the burnt wick. All the other candles had burned out to nothingness as well. The standard school candles had about 10 hours of burning time, she knew. This meant that they had been there, on this cold wet floor, for at least that time. The candles had been brand new when she walked in.

More essence of dittany, more healing charms. She filtered a glass of water and poured it down Tom's mouth in small intervals.
His chest was healing, although it was slowly, and his breathing had become more regular and strong again.
She took care of him the best she could, knowing very well that life would lose all its possibilities for her if she emerged from the chamber without him. Shiv was pretty sure her dad would kill her. No, she was convinced.

There was no point in trying to move him. He was probably close to double her weight, and she had less strength than ever before. Even on a good day it would be a struggle to get his limp body off the cold, wet ground onto a higher dry surface.

Trembling, she took off her thick cable knit sweater and laid it over Tom's chest in a desperate attempt to keep him warm. Now left in her thin white dress shirt, the cold was almost painful. Her bones ached, and she couldn't feel her toes or tips of her fingers.
Even more so than her, Tom's body temperature had continued to drop, even though his injuries started to look much better. He couldn't fucking die on her, not now, she had to get out of here first.

And even then, would she be very distraught if Tom ended up dying?
A vision of herself standing in front of a modest forgotten grave flashed before her eyes. Would she be sad, mourn? She truly had no idea.
That question rang through her head until the world closed in on her once more, and everything turned dark again.

The next thing she felt were two arms scooping her up from the floor. Shiv heard the water move and drip down as she was lifted into the air. They were comfortable, strong arms. One hooked under her knees, the other steadying her shoulders. Her head rolled to the side. Skin against skin.
It took a few minutes before she was able to open her eyes and get a glimpse of her surroundings.
The light was too bright to make out where she was, not in the chamber anymore, that was for sure. All she could make out was Tom's pale, ravaged chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck.

'Tom?' It came out as a question even though she knew it was him.
He made a soft sushing sound, and she felt his hand caress her hair gently whilst holding her.

The world went black again.

-

When she awoke, this time with a lot less trouble, the mist in her head had cleared a bit, and she didn't feel like the world was spinning anymore.

Shiv let her fingers glide of the soft fabric of sheets. She opened her eyes and saw that they were thin and sage in colour, not the thick pale blue covers she had in her Ravenclaw dorm. Disoriented, she opened one of her eyes slowly, afraid the light would hurt.
Her hand was party covered by a sleeve way too long for her arm. She was wearing a large gray sweater that smelled like it had just been washed.