Search Home Read Write Forum Login Register
Well, seeing as TA’s can’t post during the break, I guess this is an early Christmas present!  Hope you enjoy, :D

 

I can’t explain what you do to me.

I’ve got a feeling we’re falling,

And I can’t breathe.

And I don’t know how this came to be.

You were the only one for me,

Now I can’t see.

 

I don’t want to wake up without you.

 

“Tom,” Siobhan begins, cocking her head to the side and staring at the tree curiously, “Are you staying for Christmas?”

 

She’s asked me this question every single year, and I always smiled crookedly, looked up at her, and rolled my brown eyes.

 

“Of course I’m staying for Christmas.  Where else am I supposed to go?”

 

She merely laughs and hangs an ornament, shaking her head as she does.  We’ve been friends since my second year, and we’ve dated since my fourth.  She has long, long black hair that falls in beautiful banana curls down her back with a few random streaks of white blonde, the most prominent at the front of the left side of her hair.  Sweeping bangs cross her forehead, and her brown eyes match mine.  She keeps me sane in this crazy world, and she’s probably the sole reason I haven’t gone back, found my father, and shown him just how I feel.

 

Siobhan, better known to me as Sio, is a Black, sister of the lovely Walburga, and she practically lives at Hogwarts.  She hates her family, and she’s sure to show that contempt to her sister at every possible turn.  Her brothers she adores, which, at first, surprised me, but I guess it’s just the femininity that crept between the two girls.

 

And she’s brilliant, though she can’t quite top my marks in some classes.  Her parents were always very proud of her, and they wrote frequently to let her know just how happy they were for her.  They were thrilled with our relationship, too.  I remember, at first, they were wary because I had a Muggle father, but, after listening day after day during the summer of how much I hated him and all Muggles alike, they gladly accepted me into the family.

 

Even recently, at the end of August, their acceptance shown brighter than any time I’d before witnessed.  It had been a hot day, the kind I hated, and I’d approached her parents carefully, having rehearsed what I would say a million times before.

 

They were sitting in the kitchen when I walked in, Irma washing the dishes and chattering quietly with her husband, Pollux.  I cleared my throat, and they instantly looked up, Pollux lowering his paper as he saw it was just me.

 

“How are you today, Thomas?” Irma crooned, motioning for me to sit.

 

“Well, thank you, ma’am,” I responded, smiling politely, “I was actually hoping to speak to the both of you about a rather serious topic.”

 

Irma paused in her washing, looking over at me curiously.  When I didn’t continue, she sighed, dried her hands, and went to sit next to her husband.

 

“Sit, Tom,” Pollux said, and his tone was clear, “What’s on your mind?”

 

“It’s about Siobhan,” I said, clammy hands flattening on my pants once I’d sat, “I want to ask for her hand in marriage.”

 

“Oh, Tom!” Irma exclaimed, jumping out of her seat and hurrying over.

 

She hugged me happily, squeezing me tightly, “That’s such good news!  Of course you can.  Pollux, you don’t disagree, I’m sure?”

 

He shook his head, smiling widely, “She is yours, Tom.  Take care of her.”

 

“Do you know when you’ll ask her?” Irma asked excitedly, stepping back.

 

“Not yet.  I just wanted your permission first.  Thank you so much.”

 

“Oh, of course, dear, no problem,” Irma said with a laugh, tussling his hair before going back around the table, “Go back to your day.”

 

I nodded, and my smile couldn’t be erased.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Siobhan asks, laughing and nudging me, “Stop doing it so much.  Come help me decorate the tree.”

 

I could never understand her obsession with Christmas trees.  Her family was never huge on them, but she always insisted, ever since she was little, that they had one.  And so, every year, she’d gone out with her father, picked one out, and forced her brothers to help her decorate it.  Of course, after only two or so years, they were just as excited as her.

 

“Is it okay if I’m thinking about you?” I return, smiling up at her from my position on the couch.

 

We were both Heads this year, our seventh year, and so we got the entire Heads’ House to ourselves, which was absolute bliss.  And so here I was, sitting in front of this roaring fire, warmed to my very core by not only the fire but Siobhan’s absolute beauty.

 

“Stop staring and get over here,” she laughs, looking over her shoulder at me.

 

I smile, dog-ear my book, and close it before standing and going to her.  She’s wearing small green shorts and a red v-neck, which I just can’t understand.  Her Christmas spirit is out of this world.

 

“Here,” she says, pushing an ornament into my hand.

 

Together, we fill the tree with various ornaments, tinsel, popcorn that she made us string by hand, and a little star on top.

 

“Are we nearly done yet?” I finally complain three hours later, laughing as she sticks her tongue out at me.

 

“Oh, please,” she grumbles, pushing me onto the couch, “I’m going to make us hot chocolate and some food.  Stay over there.”

 

“Yes, mom,” I tease, and, all of a sudden, I can’t see anymore.

 

Sio!” I whine from underneath the pillow, and she obliges, taking the pillow away.

 

I smile up at her, biting on my lower lip as she places her elbows on either side of my head, our noses touching lightly.

 

“Did you know that I love you?” I whisper, and she practically beams.

 

“Did you know that I love you so much?” she returns, leaning down and kissing me happily.

 

We stay like that, exchanging soft, beautiful kisses, and it isn’t until we are so comfortable a half hour later, snuggled together in front of the fire, that she remembers the hot chocolate.

 

“You silly distracting boy!” she exclaims, turning and hitting me in the chest, “How dare you!  I was going to get us a nice little treat, and then you—”

 

I cut her off with a sweet kiss, and she succumbs to it, hands relaxing against me.  When we part, she smiles, pecks me on the nose, and rolls off the couch.  I watch her walk away, and I’ve never felt so alive.

 

The first day I saw Siobhan, I knew I was going to live my life with her.  We were in Potions, my favorite class, and she sat next to me purely because she was late and I didn’t have many friends.

 

“Hi, I’m Siobhan Black,” she introduced herself, smiling a beautiful, white smile up at me as she sat in a flurry of movement, “You’re in Slytherin, right?  What’s your name?”

 

I was bewildered.  I’d never had a girl talk to me before, especially not one so beautiful.

 

“Tom Riddle,” I mumbled absentmindedly, and she nodded, her black curls bouncing.

 

“Tom.  I like that name.  You’re cute.  Oh, we better be quiet,” she laughed as Professor Slughorn cleared his throat.

 

From that day on, I wasn’t sure what I’d said or done, but, suddenly, she was sitting next to me in every class, squeezing her way between people to sit with me at meals, and she always found me in the common room or the library.  I was ecstatic with her company.  I loved the way she talked, the way she acted, and especially the way she smiled at me like I was the only person she saw.  Her eyes sparkled everytime she said hello, and her cheeks were always flushed with excitement when she started talking about the dream she’d had the night previous, the thing she realized in the middle of class, or the spell she’d recently learned.

 

Soon, I was also the one seeking her out.  We were best friends, inseparable, and I was sure that, if separated, we would just combust on the spot.  Second year ended, however, and I spent the summer at the orphanage, alone and angry.  It was halfway through June when her first letter arrived, the first letter of hundreds.  She’d write every single week, whether or not I replied, and, before long, I was doing the same.

 

My dearest Tom,

 

I completely forgot to ask you where you lived when we parted on the train!  That was horrible of me, and, for that, I apologize greatly.  You totally have to come stay at my house at some point this summer.  I already talked to my parents, and they’re fine with it.  Let me know!

 

Yours always,

Siobhan

 

From that letter on, we wrote constantly, and, two weeks later, I was at her house, spending the rest of the summer with her and her wonderful family.  From that summer on, we were always together, no matter the holiday.

 

“THINKING!” Siobhan hollers, bringing me out of my reverie, and I sit up, cross my arms over the back of the couch, and lean my chin on them so I can watch her.

 

She has her back to me, though I can tell just from her playful stance that she’s smiling, just from the way her hip is lifted to the side, the way her hair falls around her shoulder, I know she’s happy.

 

“I’m not thinking,” I scoff, “I’m admiring my beautiful girlfriend.  I’m so lucky to have you.”

 

She turns, and her smile is wide.

 

“Come here.  Come help me.”

 

I get up, walking slowly to her, and, when I reach her, I wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on her shoulder.

 

“You smell pretty,” I compliment, and she just laughs, turning her chin to kiss me lightly before going back to her work.

 

She’s got two mugs of hot chocolate steaming with tiny marshmallows floating inside and peppermint straws.  Two slices of cheesecake sit next to that, and I smile at this, burying my nose in her neck and breathing her in.

 

“Are you excited for tomorrow morning?” she asks, reaching down and closing her hands over mine, “Because I am.  I have the greatest gift ever for you.”

 

“Me too,” I say with an even larger smile, thinking of the little velvet box in my hand.

 

“C’mon,” she murmurs, patting my hands until I let go.  She carries the mugs over, leaving me to get the cake, and I follow her to the couch where we spend the rest of our evening.

 

We stay curled together as the fire dies, and we doze after a few hours, wrapped in each other’s arms.  I wait until she falls asleep before I let myself drift off, and all of my dreams are of her.  Ever since halfway through our sixth year, we’ve always slept in the same bed, always close.  We used to alternate sixth year, sneaking into each other’s rooms, but being in the Heads’ house has been just perfect.

 

When I awake the next morning, I’m a little stiff from sleeping on the couch, and my arms are empty.

 

Finally!” Siobhan exclaims, motioning for me to come down next to her, “I’ve been awake for, like, fifteen minutes just staring at these.  You take forever to wake up.”

 

“Not a whole fifteen minutes!”I laugh, and she just makes faces at me until I join her.

 

We spend the morning slowly unwrapping gifts from friends, her family, and finally each other’s.  She got me this gorgeous black leather-bound journal, one she states that is for “my secretiveness.”  I’ve always loved to keep track of things, and this journal conceals everything as its written so that no one but the author can read what is written.  There’s an inscription on the inside, just a small, sweet love in writing, and it makes my heart soar as I read it.

 

“Thank you, beautiful,” I whisper, kissing her happily.

 

“Now,” I continue, setting the journal aside and standing up, “Come on.”

 

I pull her to her feet, walk her over to the couch, and sit her down.  She gasps as I pull the box out of my pocket and bend to one knee, and her eyes go wide and glassy.

 

“Baby,” I begin, taking her hand, “My dearest Sio, will you marry me?”

 

“Oh, Tom,” she sighs, falling next to me and wrapping her arms around my neck, “Yes!”

 

She hugs me so tight, kissing me everywhere, and I laugh as I feel her tears.

 

“No need for sadness, my angel,” I tsk, thumbing them away and kissing her on the mouth.

 

“Tom, I love you, I love you so much,” she says with the largest smile ever, “Oh gosh, I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, Siobhan.  I love you with all my heart.”

 

And that seemed to be the mood for the next month or so.  Siobhan and I were always together, more so than usually, and we were always close, holding onto one another lovingly.  We planned the wedding here and there, and my excitement toward having her for my wife forever and always grew and grew as each day passed.

 

And then February 24th happened.

 

She had to go home for a weekend to be with Alphard.  He’d grown more and more ill as the weeks passed by in the winter, and he was nearing his end when her mother wrote in a panic.  I thought nothing of it, just sent her off with a kiss and wishes of health.  She left me with tears and a promise that she’d be back soon to love and hold me forever.

 

Her mother wrote the day after she was due to arrive, and the handwriting was shaky.  Teardrops touched the parchment, and some of the words were smudged.

 

Tom –

 

I hate to write this.

 

Siobhan never made it to Grimmauld.  Her father had asked her to stop off at the Ministry to let Cygnus know that she was there in hopes that he would accompany her back home.  It seems that a group of purebloods has been forming as an alliance against pureblood families like the Blacks.  You know that we do not appreciate Mudbloods and the such, and they’ve been going out against such people.

 

There was an attack in Diagon today.  Cygnus tells me that they stopped there to pick up a few things, and it was a massacre.  He apparated back to the house, barely conscious, bleeding profusely, and when we finally could get him to talk, all he offered was her wand.

 

I’m so sorry, Thomas.

 

She died.

 

Pollux has set out to gather a list of the reported names, so we’ll send that along when it arrives.  If you want to come stay with us during this time, you are welcome.  I’ve written to Dumbledore as well.  I hope you are well.

 

Irma

 

The list arrived a week later, with one name circled and a small note next to it.

 

Peter is Charlus’ Potter’s brother.  Pollux believes Charlus isn’t involved in the rebellion, but Peter certainly is.  I’ve written to Charlus as we went to school together in hopes that he may have some information.  Please write back, Tom, so we may know that you’re alright.

 

Potter.  That was all I needed to know.

 

--

 

Disclaimer: Lyrics from Suitcases by The Best Week Ever.  Check ‘em out.  They only have a few songs up on myspace, but they’re pretty boss.
 

Track This Story: Feed


Write a Review

out of 10

JOIN HARRY POTTER FANFICTION


Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.

Register Today!