Darkness and Devotion - A Tom Riddle Story

The Trauma

They sat in silence for hours, just watching the calm water against a backdrop of blue sky. Evelyn didn't feel like moving, not yet, not when her bones felt like pudding and her muscles were nonexistent through an onslaught of pain. Tom didn't seem to feel like moving when she was back in his arms. She wasn't going to argue, not when his tight hold on her felt incredible.

Tom held her like he was trying to convince himself that she was really there and she stayed there because she, too, needed to be reminded every time it seemed like she was going back under the water.

After several moments of silence, Evelyn finally spoke. "I died," she whispered. "I saw it. Death."

He frowned. "What did you see, Little Dove?"

"It was warm. And light. My father was there. My mother, too. They smiled at me and welcomed me into their arms. My mother was about to tell me something when..." Evelyn trailed off.

"When?" he pressed.

"When shadows started to surround us and they told me that I had to leave. I woke up here on the beach." She looked up into his deep brown eyes. How did she ever think she could go without those eyes? Those eyes that looked like deep rivers of chocolate she wanted desperately to swim in. "With you."

Tom just hugged her tighter. She was back where she belonged. He was back where he belonged. Everything seemed right in the world again.

Evelyn rested her head on his chest, looking out onto the water with haunted eyes. "I didn't want to die. I thought I did but when the lake grabbed onto me, all I could think about was how much I still wanted to live."

"I'm glad you want to live."

She sighed and snuggled deeper. "Me too."

It was around midday when Tom began to lead her to the manor. Evelyn noticed with a deep rose-colored blush that he had been in some tight black underwear the entire time. It made sense considering she was wearing all of his clothes but before, that thought hadn't seemed to come up in her mind. Now, as she looked at his toned stomach, at the line that disappeared into the waistband, at the minuscule amount of hair trailing downward, Evelyn wished she'd noticed a lot sooner.

Tom held tightly onto her hand even when they entered the manor. She wouldn't have let go even if he let her. Right now, he was the anchor keeping her here. He was the calm to her storm, the comfort to her panic. He was everything she needed and more.

He was silent as he led her to the den—still in his underwear she might add. Was Evelyn debating on lighting all of his clothes on fire so he could only walk around like this? Yes, yes she was. Honestly, looking at Tom's body was one of the few things keeping her mind off of the fact that she spent a week being tortured before dying in a lake.

A few sparks flew from his wand into the fireplace. Tom let go of her hand and picked up one of the antique armchairs like it weighed nothing before placing it in front of the hearth. Wordlessly, he grabbed her by the waist and set her in the chair. Then, he disappeared.

Evelyn stared at the crackling fire. Pop, the embers went. Pop. It was the same noise her ribs made when Key hit her stomach. Crack. The sound of her arm when Locke held it back one night.

And just like that, Evelyn was transported back into that dungeon. She was no longer in Black Manor but in the dark cell again, waiting to see whether they would bring food or pain, not knowing whether she preferred Key's harsh hands or Locke's vile ones. 

Evelyn gripped the armchair tightly as she was reminded of exactly everything that happened. Punch... thrust... cry... drugs... pain. How long had she sat there, wishing for death? And now, death had come for her, haunted her until she fell to the bottom of the lake and was surrounded by its icy grip.