Darkness and Devotion - A Tom Riddle Story

The Holiday

When Evelyn woke, her body hurt. It felt like she had been run over by the Hogwarts train. Everything was sore and standing up took almost all of her energy.

Her heart hurt too. That dream... It felt so real. It was the first time she had seen her father, talked to him, held him in her arms. And then he was gone all too soon as she was pulled back by shadows seeking to drive them apart. By darkness pulling her away from that lake.

It wasn't real, she told herself. But it felt real.

Evelyn winced when she stood up but to her surprise, nothing felt broken. Yes, her body felt battered but everything felt in place. That couldn't be, could it? Her grandfather had broken one of her ribs and she was sure her nose had been broken too. Evelyn rushed over to the broken mirror by the bed to find that, miraculously, most of her bruises had faded. What should have been deep purple and black marks around her body were faded so lightly she could hardly tell they were there. Her face was untouched and though her stomach had taken most of the hits, it was barely discolored.

With confusion written all over her face, she touched the tender skin. It hurt but it was bearable. Did a healer come see me? she wondered. No, they would have never allowed that. So then how did she heal? Did she sleep for several days, sleep through Christmas until her body had mended itself? No, they wouldn't have allowed that either.

So then what was going on?

Evelyn realized that she wasn't going to get any answers by remaining in her bedroom and if it was Christmas day, her grandmother wouldn't allow her to hide away anyway. So she began to get dressed, gently curling her hair and dressing in a long-sleeved black dress that reached below her knees. Her grandmother always insisted on formal holidays, somehow sucking the joy out of each one. Though Evelyn had to admit, she did like dressing up.

Makeup successfully covered whatever bruises weren't faded enough. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she could hardly tell that she had received one of the worst beatings only the night before. She looked almost normal. Almost because no makeup, no dress, no healing could fix the sadness in her eyes.

Evelyn carefully tiptoed down the stairs, making sure not to creak too much. Her grandmother wouldn't care if it was Christmas; if she brought too much attention to herself, her ribs would be broken again easily. 

A crackling fire could be heard even before she entered the den. That's odd, she thought. Grandmother never lights fires. She can't stand the smoke. Her grandfather liked fires but he wouldn't be awake this early. Something was off. Something she couldn't put her finger on.

She walked into the large room. The walls were made entirely of dark wood, all except for the one made completely of glass windows that overlooked the lake. The mahogany was tall, almost two stories tall with an iron chandelier that was almost as grand as the one in the foyer. Shelves of books lined the walls, mostly magic books but some were the gothic classics she adored. There was a dark green loveseat to the right of the fire—where she normally sat—with two black leather chairs side by side in front of the hearth. A few lamps were around the room but these were rarely lit. Usually, the large windows at the side of the room were the only source of light in the room.

Evelyn trembled as she approached the chairs. Please, she pleaded to any god who would listen. Please make this Christmas bearable.

But as she finally looked at the room—really looked at the room—she stilled.

Because there on the green loveseat lounged a mischievous-looking Mattheo, holding an origami paper crane that he was attempting to gently burn with his wand. And in the armchair closest to the sofa, reading the Daily Prophet as if it were the most natural thing he could be doing, was Tom.