Extra Ordinary (Riddle Era)

Chapter 59

Tom woke Christmas morning to the smell of bacon. It was his third morning in the Steele home and in some ways, it had gotten easier to wake up in this cozy house. He had gotten used to the homeliness of it all, anyway, had hardened himself to the softness of it.

In other ways, though, it had gotten more difficult. It was hard to be around a family so much. Tom had never had to deal with it for extended periods, but it was far from a new experience. When the orphanage went to the coast, there were always families there. Even walking around London, muggle or magical, there were families. On the platform to catch the Hogwarts express, there were families. And Tom had always hated being near them. Hated seeing the affection between them. Hated seeing what he had been missing out on all his life.

Steele's family, small though it was, was no exception and being around it so much was draining in a way Tom hadn't anticipated. There were all the usual things - the affection and the pet names and the I love yous. But there were also the little things. The mug picked up when it was empty without needing to ask. The tissue passed before the sneeze had properly finished. The coffee prepared before anyone else was awake and the cup poured as soon as Steele descended the stairs.

And those little things hurt almost more than the obvious, big ones. They were details, whispers instead of statements, but the whispers built to something deafening and Tom didn't like the thoughts they left ringing in his ears. Didn't like the way the whole thing was a reminder of the fact that he hadn't just avoided the holiday invitations out of pride and a protection of his image. He had avoided them to avoid this. To avoid seeing what he was missing. Had always been missing. Would always be missing. To avoid this echoing, awful proof that no matter what he gained, there would always be this. This, that he would always lack.

Tom sighed and sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. All these depressing thoughts weren't helpful. He'd had them before. And more than likely, he would have them again. For now, however, he simply needed to brace himself. Because he knew what he would find when he went downstairs. Steele and her mother would be sitting on opposite sides of the too-small couch, each with coffee in hand. Steele would have the paper open, and her mother would be reading a book. And their silence, the absolute comfort of it, would be like a knife against his nerves.

Of course, he thought as he pulled on a jumper, given that it was Christmas, perhaps the scene would be different, but he didn't see how it could possibly be better. In fact, given that it was Christmas, the day was bound to be worse.

Steele had assured him, multiple times, and without him asking at all, that he need not worry about gift giving. Apparently, Steele family tradition was to give cards and small trinkets. Tom had done his best with these instructions, but it had been more stressful than he particularly wanted to admit. He was aiming at a target he could barely see, after all, and he couldn't afford to miss.

He huffed another sigh and laid a hand on the door knob, bracing himself one more time before he exited and headed downstairs.

Just as he'd predicted, Steele and her mother were sitting on either side of the sofa, Steele reading the morning paper, and her mother reading a book. And just as Steele had promised, there were no large packages beneath the little tree they'd stuffed into the corner, just cards and a scant handful of small boxes. He breathed a sigh of relief and placed the two cards and boxes he had brought beneath the tree as well.

Steele's mother looked up from her book as he straightened. "Oh, Tom," she said, her voice the warm tone Tom had learned rather quickly meant she was flattered, "You didn't have to bring us anything. Please tell me Lucy didn't say you had to bring anything."

Steele let the paper flop over and shot her mother a terse look from over it. "Of course I didn't," she said levelly. "I just told him what we usually do because I know him."