O R P H I C. [Tom. R × Reader]

44. Dress Shopping.

Tom sits behind me, brushing through my hair gently. Neither of us have dressed again yet, having become accustomed to each other. Tom is also surprisingly good at making sure nothing is awkward.

After he's finished brushing my hair, we crawl into bed, under my heavy covers. Tom pulls me towards him without hesitation, trailing his fingers over my body, up the curve of my hip, into the dip of my waist, and up into my hair, scratching the back of my neck, which makes my eyes flutter with pleasure.

"You are so beautiful," He whispers, reaching his other arm under and around me to rest with the curve of my waist.

I gaze into his eyes through the dimness of the firelight and the drowsy grey light that fights to make it through the clouds and rain into the room through the window. Uncertainty fills my gaze.

"Why do you treat me so differently than you do other people? What makes you want to?" I ask hesitantly, examining his chiseled face and dark eyes.

He just looks at me for a moment, no clear expression in his eyes, not anger nor confusion or anything at all.

"... I don't know," He replies slowly, leaning in towards me, burying his head underneath my chin and breathing in deeply, as though relishing my scent, "You're special, Y/n."

He pulls back again, this time gently brushing his lips against mine. I hate how this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, making him feel something, anything at all. But I feel so out of control; everything he does makes my heart race, and it makes me feel like I'm not making Tom fall in love with me per se, but Tom making me fall in love with him.

"Say, why don't we go to Hogsmeade tomorrow to buy a gown and suit for the ball? It's next week, after all," He suggests, continuing his massage on my neck.

I let my eyes fall closed, "Really? they don't exactly give us a lot of time to prepare, do they?"

"Not at all," Tom agrees quietly.

"Okay then, if the rain lightens up," I say, snuggling closer to him, and he tightens his arms around me.

"The rain didn't stop us last time," He whispers, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.

"True, but I think I've had enough of running around in the cold rain for a while to come," I chuckle, breathing in his fresh smell.

Tom huffs humorously, "Fair enough."

He presses his lips to my forehead, hand still rubbing the back of my neck, lulling me into a warm, comfortable slumber.

==

I wake up to the room flooded with morning sunshine, still water droplets fracturing the light slightly. Tom is no longer beside me, leaving me drowsy and confused.

But the sound of the door opening and closing tells me that he's back.

"Good morning," He hums, entering the room. I squint at him, eyes still adjusting to the bright light. He sets a plate and a mug onto the bedside table before leaning over me to press a kiss to my face.

"I brought you breakfast, pretty," He adds, combing my hair from my face with his fingers. I can feel the warmth creeping up my neck at his words, suffusing my cheeks with a scarlet hue. My mind becomes a jumble of thoughts, leaving me stumbling over my words in a desperate attempt to regain control.

"T-thank you," I croak, grabbing at his shirt to pull him down to cuddle. He does so immediately, without any resistance at all.

"Have something to eat and we'll leave, yeah?" He says, rubbing my back soothingly.

"Yeah."

==

"What colour do you think? Will we match?" I wonder, browsing through a collection of dresses on one of the racks, trailing my fingers over all the different fabrics.

"If you'd like to," Tom murmurs softly, following along behind me, hands in his pockets.

"I think you'd suit a pink tuxedo perfectly," I muse, glancing back at him as I pull a dress out from the others to look at it. The brittle texture of the cheap chiffon scratches against my fingers as I let it fall back into line with a distasteful look.

He snickers, giving me a look, "A pink tuxedo, you say? I believe my style is more formal and elegant. Nevertheless, the mere suggestion is... amusing, to say the least."

I chuckle at his response, turning to eye him. I examine him for a moment, thinking about the options.

"Would you like a photograph?" He lowers his chin to look into my eyes as he gently tucks some hair behind my ear.

"Oh, stop doing that!" I exclaim, turning back to the dress racks, my face heating up quickly. Green is boring, he wears green every day. Blue seems too meek of a colour for Tom, and purple is just a mix of blue and pink...

I begin to walk, pausing every now and then to hold part of a dress up against Tom.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, love, but I am not wearing a dress," He smirks down at me.

"I think if I tried to get you to go in a dress you'd hex me," I roll my eyes back at him.

"Perhaps," He muses.

I try on a couple of gowns and show Tom every one, it takes a while but eventually Tom finds a beautiful dress for me to try on, and it looks absolutely gorgeous.

"You look stunning, Darling," Tom's eyes trail down the dress as he says so, a quirk at the corner of his lips says he's pleased with the one he chose.
All the while I'm blushing furiously at his comment and hoping desperately that he doesn't notice.

"Do you like it?" He asks, approaching me, I freeze, playing with my hands as he circles behind me, taking a hand gently, and resting his other at my waist as he turns me to step onto a raised platform perfectly in line with the grand mirror.

I gaze at the two of us in the reflection. My clear red face makes me cringe silently and I only redden more. He definitely notices. Then my eyes are taken by the beautiful dress, it hugs my waist perfectly and the shape is perfect for the eyes to feast on, it's simply addicting and I can't take my eyes off it.

"I love it, it's perfect," I whisper in a daze.

"Wonderful. Let's go and find a suit then, shall we?" I nod, and he helps me down and then delicately unzips my dress.

At the counter we discuss a size and the lovely woman packs the right dress into a lovely packaging and slips it into a fine bag for me, and before I can even move, Tom is already paying.

"Tom!!" I hiss, tugging at his jacket angrily, trying not to make a scene.

"Consider it a gift, Lovely," He takes the bag from the counter, "right then," nods at the woman behind the counter who smiles back politely, and leads me, a blushing mess, out of the store.

We spend the next hour or so looking for a suit to go with it, and after we find matching one, we end up having a bit of a crisis over a really nice black one we'd found, and the matching one.

Tom settles it with a shrug and a second opinion from a fitter, and we purchase it without a hitch.

(obviously you can choose what you like, but here are some pretty ones I found)