The Years of Riddle

Chapter Ten | Wools Orphanage, June 1945

Chapter Ten

Wools Orphanage, June 1945

         Whenever Tom thought of London, the colour grey and the taste of soot came to mind. He strode down Vauxhall Road, passing Winstanley's Bookstore & Stationers – where Gwyn had stolen his diary from. At the end of the street, Wools Orphanage loomed; it was a square building surrounded by high railings. Tom hated everything about it.

He went up the steps quickly, opening the door; a patron was just inside, and she jumped at his sudden appearance. It was one of the newer girls, not much older than Tom himself.

"Oh!" she squeaked. "You – you've come back."

"Only to retrieve my belongings." He said crisply.

"Your friend – what's her name – Gwyn, right – she waited for you."

Tom hadn't been listening. "She what?"

The patron gulped. "Waited for you, at the station – for hours."

Tom knew others would feel guilty, but he had simply been too busy to come back right away. There were things he had needed to sort out quickly, he hadn't had time to dawdle with Gwyn. He had spent the past several weeks preparing for his trip to Albania to track down the diadem that had belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Where is she?"

"The kitchen, I believe, but –"

Not waiting for her to finish, Tom moved through the narrow halls. The kitchen was mostly taken up by a long, wooden table; Gwyn sat at one end, a cup of tea growing cold before her.

"Kate, I don't want anything, I told you twice alrea –"

"Gwyn."

Head jerking up, Gwyn looked dazed; her eyes widened and her hands shook. Slowly, unsteadily, she rose to her feet. "You..."

"I –"

"You brute!" Gwyn lashed out, smacking him across the face. "You promised me you'd come back, it's been three weeks – and I waited like a fool in the station, for hours – and you didn't come –"

Tom caught Gwyn's forearm, holding her firmly. "Gwyn." He said coolly. "Stop."

Something in Tom's voice made her freeze, and she stared up at him with her luminous, unblinking brown eyes. "What." She said, softly almost.

"I'm sorry."

She gave him a surprised look, and blinked thoughtfully. "You are?"

"I am." The lie came easily, and it almost – almost – was not entirely a lie.

"Where did you go?"

"Extra school things to finish up." Another lie. "Did you not receive my owl?"

"No." she lowered her hand slowly, embarrassed.

He grinned at her. "That's settled then. I promised I'd come back, didn't I?"

"You did." She stepped back, smoothed her trousers – they may have been men's, he couldn't tell. Gwyn looked...well, pretty. Suddenly she lit up and grabbed his hand. "Oh! You won't believe it, but Mrs. Cole had us cleared for a trip to the seaside, like we used to do – and we get to go. Imagine, the clean air and the sand and we can go for walks like we used to and –"

"Gwyn, I'm not staying." He saw her face fall. "I'm only here to collect my things – say goodbye."

"For how long?"

"I don't know." He left the kitchen, Gwyn following just behind.

"What do you mean you don't know? How can you not?"

"I just don't."

They climbed the stone staircase up, to his old room. He opened it with a flick of his wand just as Gwyn offered him the key she kept around her neck. "But, when will I see you?"

"I don't know, Gwyn," he huffed, opening the wardrobe. "I'm leaving."

"Where to?" she asked, watching him rummage through the closet.

"Everywhere."

"Can I come?"

He shook his head. "This is magic business, Gwyn."

"Are you nervous?"

Tom smiled, lying, "Not at all." He turned to her, hoping he could convince her to calm down. Pulling her into a hug, he stroked her curls. "Don't worry, okay?"

They were very close, and as Gwyn nodded, she went on her tiptoes – kissing him, not briefly like in the past, but long and desperate. Like at the station, back in September. With meaning.

"Gwyn –"

Just, let it happen." She said, pulling him down to press her lips to his again. "Relax." She whispered, gaze turned up to meet his. His dark eyes were nervous, something nobody but Gwyn had ever seen. "C'mon, Tommy...just stop thinking. Look at me, forget it all..." She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair, down his face and along his jaw, traced the curve of his lips.

"Gwyn..." he shuddered "We shouldn't do this...it will only end –"

The rest of Tom's sentence was cut off by Gwyn's lips crashing onto his, one hand knotted in his hair, the other gripping onto his shirt collar. As if his body knew what to do, even though his mind didn't, Tom lifted her up, Gwyn's long lean legs wrapping around her waist. He was taking her over to the bed he slept in at the orphanage, laying her down carefully, cradling her face in his hands as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse.

It all went so fast, flashes of burning desire and soft, pale skin; her body pressed up against his and his mind racing – what the bloody hell was he doing?

But it didn't matter –it never would again – he could forget about all his plans, run away – be somebody else entirely – just live with Gwyn for the rest of his life, kiss her like this all the time and make love every night –

Suddenly it was morning, dim light filtering through the curtains, speckling Gwyn's bare back. It was still early, Tom could tell; they must have fallen asleep. He had thought and said some crazy things last night, in the throws of Gwyn's kisses and skin and – oh, he would pay for it later, he just knew it.

Inching out of bed, he pulled his clothes on quickly. Gwyn made snuffling, sleepy noises but did not wake. Her skin was smooth, like the surface of a pale stone; she snuggled into the light covers, letting out a sigh.

"Goodbye, Gwyn." Tom said softly, closing the door firmly behind him.

The pitter-patter of feet down the hall woke her, dull light proving it was not too late, but not early either. The bed was cold, and Tom was nowhere to be seen. Gwyn felt her insides crumble, collapse – she had never felt so broken, so abandoned.

At breakfast, Gwyn barely looked up from her porridge. The children squabbled and laughed, but it was all a blur. She was jolted back into reality when Mrs. Cole's firm yet comforting hand rested on her shoulder.

"Gwynnie, Kate says Tom was here last night?" Mrs. Cole could still remembered placing the two side by side in the same crib, Tom only hours old. "Did you see him?"

Gwyn nodded, dropping her spoon in defeat. "I saw him, yeah."

"Will he be back?"

"I don't know," said Gwyn, tears forming salty streaks down her cheeks. "I really don't know anymore."

A/N: Well. How rude. 

Question: Where do you see Gwyn going next? She's 18 now, and soon won't be allowed to stay at Wools...will she had Tom's paths cross again soon?

Rose