Sacred Silence | A Tom Riddle Story

60: Party favors (Part 3).

'D'accord,' Shiv slowly said, putting emphasis on the pronunciation and leaving out the d at the end. 'You finish your words too harshly.'
She chuckled, looking up at Tom's face. Her head was resting in his lap, and his fingers raked through her curls gently.

'D'accor,' he said again, better this time. 'I swear the French write twice as many letters as they actually use'

Shiv grinned and adjusted a bit to be more comfortable on the wooden planks of the dock under them. She closed her eyes and listened to Tom speaking French, correcting any small mistakes he still made. The flaws were small, and he knew how to respond to her questions perfectly. Yet he was still a little slow, stopping in the middle of sentences to think of the correct way to continue.
It could also be because he was drunk. Very drunk. Shiv had never seen him so intoxicated before, neither had she ever been so far gone herself.
Their conversation consisted of simple, slurred questions, which were replied with incoherent answers.

The sky was still dark. It had to be somewhere between 3 and 5, but no one in their little group seemed to care much about time.
After using spells to dry themselves, the drinking continued on the dock. After an hour or so, Rome disappeared with both girls, leaving Anthony to return to the castle alone, sulking.
Abraxas and Florance were sitting next to one another at the far edge of the dock, legs dangling over the edge. Shiv could vaguely make out parts of their conversation, but too little to get a clear picture of what they were talking about.

'Where will you go before you travel to France with the Malfoys?' Siobhan asked after a few minutes of silence between her and Tom. She forgot their goal of practicing Tom's French.

He wrapped a strand of hair around one of his fingers and looked down at her. Even in his dazed state, he seemed to be weary. 'Little Hangleton.'

'Your family..' Shiv whispered, and she felt Tom's muscles tense up immediately. 'I'm sorry,' she added, not really knowing what for.

Tom didn't elaborate. He kept wrapping her hair around his finger, releasing it, and starting over again. It was rhythmic and soothing, making her care less about what she said and how it affected Tom.
Little Hangleton.. what would he want with what was left of the Gaunt family lines. The last relatives he had left; an uncle and maybe a muggle father.
Unable to hold a thought for long, her mind drifted again.

'What about you?' He asked. 'Where will you be the first few weeks?'

Shiv groaned and turned her head to the side, burying her face in his lap. 'Ireland. With my cunt of a grandmother.'

Tom chuckled. 'How bad can an old lady be?'

'She calls me a whore more often than Paul Sprout, Milo and my dad combined. The fact that my mother and I wear dresses that show our ankles.. Merlin, you would think we burned babies for fun. A disgrace.'
Shiv sighed. 'I can't wear blue around her. An insult to the centuries of Slytherins that came from the Selwyn family. Only green and black are allowed when we visit her.'

'She sounds like a charming woman,' he grinned, and he was rewarded by Shiv with a slap on his chest. She felt a little jolt in her stomach, knowing she was the only one who could get away with behaving like that towards him.

'The last person that called me a whore lost their leg for it, Tom. Can't you take her tongue for me or something?' She bit, not entirely sure if she was joking.

'I thought I told you to be careful what you wish for, Shiv,' he said whilst shaking his head. Oh, how she loved it when he called her that.
The steady motion trough her hair continued, and she closed her eyes again.

'I would burn cities to the ground if you asked me to.' Tom's voice was quiet.

She lifted her head and sat up, leaning on her elbows. For a moment, she analyzed his face carefully. Hollow cheeks, long dark eyelashes. And an expression on his face that told her he was being absolutely serious.
Having no idea what to respond to that, she just rested a hand against the cold skin of his cheek before reaching up and kissing him gently.
It was a warm, beautifully safe feeling that washed over her as their lips connected. The moment seemed to last forever. A collection of gentle touches and soft breathing, as neither of them wanted to break away first. His hands cupped her face, hers intertwined in his still damp hair. They both tasted like alcohol and cigarettes, which mixed with the smell of her expensive perfume.