she hums into his chest and pulls away as quickly, fingers still holding on to his robes. it is so unlike her to display affection, to expose her vulnerable places to those who should have no right to use them as weapons against her but they have gotten past that. ( you’re my closest friend ) ( & you’re mine. ), she should respond but the words feel too s t r a n g e on her tongue, too bitter. she’s gotten used to being lonely. don’t take that away from her.
❛ s’ nothing. i’m cold. ❜ and again the temperature’s at fault and really, the cold atmosphere of her surroundings made her wish she were back in bed and not out, wandering the castle in search of potential comfort. ( comfort that you don’t even want, ginny. ) ❛ s’ just not my day, tom. ❜ she says with a pout that takes her back to times even before hogwarts, she looks just as young as she did five years ago, just as vulnerable. her armour’s down but she trusts him to take care of her.
she withdraws, though not entirely; she clings to his robes in a way he inwardly believes unflattering for a witch of her caliber – but he doesn’t comment. doesn’t step back nor force her to relinquish her hold. instead, dark eyes stare down at her in shrewd observation; for all the lies he’s spun himself, he vehemently detests when others too, conceal the truth.
yes, this memory is cold (or are they in her time? he’s lost count, location but a minor detail compared to the final product) and with a practiced, lazy wave of his wand (retrieved from the pocket of his cloak) his pale, unusually long fingers grasp the newly-summoned robes before they can fall to the floor. “ allow me, ” he says, with careful charm; an offering, on behalf of FRIENDSHIP, yes? the robes are simple and black, though from his own time rather than hers, but they ought to work.
“ simply a bad day? ” he asks mildly; the dubious tone is crystal clear, because she’s never reverted to physical contact in lieu of an off-day. the heir doubts her, but waits patiently for further elaboration. if not immediately offered, she will explain in time. he’s certain.
“ how are your classes, then? ” he questions, a mock reflection of a true friend’s genuine concern – though he’s no longer a student, he recalls the days in which he was, and his plans to further his education after graduation. in the space between two heartbeats, he contemplates the changes in theory & application in the classroom, the discoveries & remarkable advancements. his hunger shows, in the flash of crimson in his eyes – but no, it’s merely a trick of the light. it always has been. inhaling, he prepares himself for another obligatory, unimportant (to him) inquiry: “ your family, are they well? ”
