ꜱᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ | ᴛᴏᴍɪᴏɴᴇ

Whispers from the Past, ch. 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Harmony hopped on one foot as she slipped on her shoes. She ran to catch up to Voldemort as he strode through the forest away from the waterfall. Her hair was still damp and stuck to her face. He had been quick to dress after they finished bathing, hardly giving her time to use a hot air charm to dry herself. His new shirt had a high-collar, doing its job to hide most of the burns. His black cloak billowed away from his body as he walked quickly between the trees. Its trim brushed the tips of her shoes as she followed close behind.

She thought about their conversation beneath the waterfall. What exactly was this heirloom? But most importantly, why didn't he want to show her? She hadn't seen him come out of Riddle mansion with anything. Either it was small enough to fit in his pocket, or it wasn't an object at all. Maybe it was some kind of information.

Harmony stared at the back of Voldemort's head. His black hair was slicked back flat against his scalp. The scent of dry soap on his skin touched her nose; it was musky, like some kind of exotic spice.

They reached the clearing in the trees and she could see the large tent on top of the hill. It glowed with a soft yellow light. Torches decorated both sides of the entrance, welcoming them in.

"How long is this going to take?" she asked as they began to climb the hill.

"Why? Did you have plans after dinner?"

"No," she said slowly. "Not unless you had plans for us."

"Would you like there to be?" When he looked over at her, his eyes were hooded with lust.

She looked away. "Whatever pleases you, my Lord."

He hummed with longing. "Yes, it would please me very well." He stopped short of the entrance and faced her. His long fingers came up and brushed aside a wet strand of hair from her face. "We will have dinner, like proper hosts, followed by a simple discussion of our plans. But then…" his fingers cupped her chin, holding her face firmly, "our evening is free." He released her and turned to go inside the tent.

The world map was gone, as well as all the newspaper clippings. The walls were now bare, save one tapestry above a serving table that was covered with steaming food. Occupying the center of the room was a long dining table, similar to the one she saw in Riddle mansion. A group of followers were gathered around the table, chatting softly. When they walked in, there was a hush and everyone bowed. Harmony recognized several followers, including Mag and Barty.

Voldemort took his spot at the head of the table. Barty was quick to take her hand and guide her to the seat at the opposite end. Voldemort watched this thoughtfully, but looked away. Harmony withheld her contempt at the feel of Barty's clammy skin on hers. Once she was seated, he took the spot directly to Voldemort's left. The rest of the Death Eaters followed suit, filling the remaining seats at the table.

With a wave of a hand, Voldemort summoned the servants. Silently, they began filling plates with heaps of food, starting with their Lord and Lady. Harmony swallowed when she gazed at all of the delicious choices: roast beef, shepherd's pie, steak and kidney pudding, boiled potatoes with butter and gravy, roasted turkey. A server girl poured red wine into her goblet. When Harmony took a sip, her mouth set on fire as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. She gasped, clutching her chest, and those sitting around her laughed. Voldemort lifted his goblet to her and drained it in four gulps.

People chatted amongst themselves amid the clatter of forks and knives. Although followers tried to converse with their master, Voldemort looked up from his food every now and then to meet Harmony's eyes. She would gaze back until a Death Eater reclaimed his attention.