M Is For...

Chapter 9

Tom has the Dark Mark. "Merlin, Tom." Mattheo stares at his brother's arm for a second. You have no words. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Maybe I could have stopped him. We-"

"Stop it. You couldn't have done anything. We both know that. I didn't want to bother you with any of this." Tom cuts Mattheo off and pulls his sleeve back down. The three of you sit in silence for a while. You wish you could help him, but there isn't anything you could possibly do to make this better. You put your head on Tom's shoulder again as a way of showing him you're sorry. And once again, he puts his head on top of yours. You gently caress his arm where the mark is, almost as if you want to heal it or make it go away. Your eyes start to fill with tears. All of this makes you realise once again how messed up Mattheo and Tom's childhood has been, especially since their mother hasn't been around. You quietly sniffle, and a tear falls down on Tom's hand. He looks over at you and sits up straight. "Why are you crying?" he asks you, surprised. "I'm sorry, I just-" You start sobbing. "Stop crying." Tom demands. "Sorry, I can't!" The tears keep streaming down your face. Mattheo gets up, sits down next to you, and pulls you into his arms. You hug him and just let it all out. Tom puts his hand on your back and pats it a few times, trying to console you.

After a while, you're done crying and pull yourself together. "I'm sorry, but I just get emotional when I'm angry." You wipe away your tears. "Don't do that again." Tom tells you. "I'll try." You slightly smile at him, and he just stares at you. "I'm going to check on everyone inside. I'll be right back." Mattheo kisses the side of your head and quickly goes back into the restaurant. "This is probably the worst surprise party I have ever thrown." You straighten yourself up. "Could have been worse. I could have thrown up all over the cake." Tom chuckles. "That's a bit extreme, don't you think?" You giggle. "I don't know, it has happened before." Tom says shortly. "What? When?" You look at him, slightly shocked. "I was 12 and we had just come back home from this boat trip. My mother used to love to go on Muggle vacations. I guess I was still seasick or something, and I completely covered the cake in vomit." he explains. "I guess you're right. That would have been worse." You giggle and smile at him. Tom flashes a small smile back at you.

"Sometimes I wonder what our lives would have looked like if our mom was still here." Tom suddenly says, and you know exactly what he means. "I get it. I wonder all the time as well. What my life would be like, where I would have been living, if I ever would have come to Hogwarts... But it's no good to wonder. You can really get lost in those thoughts, and it's difficult to get out of your head." You tell him, and he looks down. "I just wish I could talk to her one more time. It has only been five years, but I start to forget, you know? I'm forgetting what she sounded like, what she looked like, what she smelled like... I feel like I'm losing all my memories of her." Tom pours his heart out to you. "I know what you mean. I have forgotten everything about my mother, but her lying still on that bed is burned into my brain." You look down and lean on the pavement. Tom puts his hand on top of yours, and you lock eyes. Looking at his somber eyes, you realise what he just said. He wants to talk to his mother.

"What if you could talk to her?" You tell him. "What are you talking about?" He looks at you with confusion. "I have done it before. I'm sure it will work this time as well." You stand up, ready to go. Tom gets up from the ground as well. "Elaborate, Y/N." Tom says sternly. "Do you trust me?" You ask him, looking him straight in the eyes. He looks back at you and nods. "Then take me to your mother." You straighten yourself and put your hand out for him to take. He hesitates for a second but eventually takes your hand, and you Apparate into Eleanor's room.

"So now what? How does this work?" Tom doesn't waste any time. You calmly sit down on the chair next to Eleanor and levitate the chair on the other side of the bed next to you. You motion for Tom to sit, and he does. You gently take Eleanor's hand and carefully reach for Tom's. He pulls back as an instinct but quickly cooperates. "We wait." You close your eyes and concentrate. "How long?" Tom asks, and you shoot him a warning glare. He puts his hands up defensively, and you go back to what you were doing.