The Dawn of Darkness || T. Riddle

Chapter 37: Unity

Chapter 37: Unity

As they whirled through the violent night - thunder growling through the clouds - electric coursing through the skies - the heat of the uncontrollable fiendfyre curse still hot on their skin - Riddle held Estela close to him as they apparated back to Malfoy Manor.

***

Malfoy Manor felt strangely quieter than usual. It was the middle of the night by now. The Manor staff had gone home, and Tom, Estela and the Death Eaters had made their way to the drawing-room once they'd safely landed back. Avery, Abraxas and Alden had cast a few more protective charms around the Manor's grounds first, just in case.

Abraxas had closed each of the long, velvet curtains of the drawing-room in what Estela thought was a subconscious attempt at shielding himself further from the invisible threat that lay beyond. He was pacing back and forth from one end of the room to the other, still wearing his Death Eater cape that was dragging behind him, leaving behind a streak of glistening water in his trail. Alden had called him a giant slug before he left to go get everyone some food, though his quip resulted in no amusement this time.

Lestrange was sitting in one of the chesterfield armchairs by the fire, idly picking at his lip as he stared into the flames - his dark brown hair dripping onto the marble floor - the sound reverbing off of the drawing-room's high walls and ceiling every few seconds.

Travers was sitting in the corner of the room, slumped against one of the walls, his legs outstretched onto the floor as he fumbled with a loose thread on his Death Eater cloak. He looked exhausted or terrified - or perhaps a mixture of both. His fresh face was pale, and his stare was blank as he tugged and twisted the loose seam as though his life depended on it.

Avery was sitting on one of the dark leather sofas in the centre of the room, leaning forwards in his seat, his hands pressed to his lips as his damp blond hair fell in front of his eyes as he stared down at his feet, deep in concentration. He had removed his Death Eater cloak and placed it before the fireplace. The rain had been so severe that it had dampened his clothes beneath the cloak, too, making his shirt and trousers cling to him like a second skin.

No one had bothered casting a simple spell to dry themselves off. It was as though everyone was in some kind of strange trance after the showdown with the Order. Planning, evaluating, worrying.

Dolohov, Mulciber and Rosier had gone to bed. Though Estela doubted they would actually be able to sleep with the prospect of war now looming on the horizon.

Alden had gone to get everyone something to eat and drink and Tom hadn't left Estela's side for even a second. 

They sat opposite Avery on another leather sofa. Both Tom and Alden had asserted that Estela needed to sit down rather than stand as she had insisted on doing. Tom was sitting so close to her that their legs were just about touching, and each time he moved to shake a hand through his dark hair or shift in his seat, his body would brush against hers.

Riddle had laced his arm around Estela at one point, his thumb gently caressing her lower back. Of course, he had ensured that the cushions hid his tender gesture from the rest of the Death Eaters. Estela had practically melted within his grasp - a feeling of safety and longing swelling through her skin at his protective touch - though she hid it well.

Avery finally looked up towards Tom, who returned his gaze coolly from the opposite sofa, waiting for him to inevitably break the silence that had lingered for far too long. Estela watched him, too. Avery had always been quieter in his nature than the other Death Eaters. He thought before he spoke and was more aware of situations than people gave him credit for.