Extra Ordinary (Riddle Era)

Chapter 52

"You know," Tom asked the next day as he and Steele sat in a corner of the library, his housemates thankfully absent in favor of enjoying a late sleep, "You never did answer the question."

Steele looked up from her book, brows raised slightly. "What question?" she asked, and Tom found himself rather inclined to believe the confusion in her face.

"Last night," he clarified, noting the way her gaze flickered into something odd at the words. "About why you were in the Room of Requirement. About what was wrong."

For a long moment, Steele was silent, the look on her face a strange thing, caught somewhere between surprise and flattery and something perhaps a bit more complicated that Tom wasn't sure it was worth the effort to try to figure out.

"I suppose I didn't," she said after a beat.

"Well?" Tom prompted gently, raising his own brows at her.

Steele frowned, just slightly, just a touch. "Are you asking again?" And she sounded surprised. Genuinely, honestly surprised. Which, if Tom was frank, was almost offensive. And, in the same breath, entirely typical of Steele. Besides, he didn't really want to get into why she was surprised he was asking again. That, he suspected, was a one way street to a rather uncomfortable conversation he wasn't going to have, and certainly not in the library at 10am on a Sunday morning.

Instead, Tom just smiled, inclining his head slightly. "I suppose I am," he said simply, lightly. "You didn't answer." He shrugged. "I want to know the answer."

Steele blinked. "You want to know what's wrong?" she asked, and though the faintest hint of a question mark hung at the ends of the words, Tom rather thought they weren't really a question so much as a statement. A repetition. Another tell of her surprise that was becoming more frustrating by the moment.

"Is that so strange?" he pressed, unable to help himself.

"No," she said, then frowned slightly. "I... no." She shook her head just the tiniest bit, as though clearing it, shaking away some honesty in what Tom thought might have somehow been yet another mercy. "Can I ask something first, Tom?" she said after a beat.

This, Tom decided, was probably a mistake. Anytime Steele asked questions, things got awkward. Got tight and tense and honest in ways he was decidedly not a fan of. But there was no backing out of it now, at least not gracefully.

"I suppose," he conceded, endeavoring to sound like it didn't matter. Like he had no ideas, and certainly no fears, about what the question would be.

For a moment, Steele let Tom sit in his definitely-not-fears. She simply watched him, her eyes contemplative on him, piercing in a way he hadn't thought brown eyes could be until he met her.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked after several heartbeats too many.

This was not a question Tom had been braced for. It hadn't even made the list. It was an answer that was easy. Would have been easy regardless of his truthfulness. Was easier still because truth and lies didn't matter for once.

"Because you're my friend," he said simply. "Because... I care."

It was the right answer. This, Tom knew. That it was the honest answer was perhaps an unpleasant reality, but one Tom opted not to dwell on at the moment. Or, perhaps, tried not to dwell on was the more accurate term, because Steele gave him a long silence in answer that left him far too much time to do just that.

The simple fact of the matter was that she was Tom's friend, as no one else had ever been. He didn't like admitting it, even to himself, but it was undeniably true. Never before in his life had Tom been... worried, about someone. Never before had he changed plans for them. And true, giving the Basilisk a description of her and telling it not to attack her was a very minute change of plans, but it was there. It was an act that hadn't benefited him in the slightest and yet he had done it. For her. For... for a friend. Because he cared.