"You're absolutely infuriating." He breathed out, pressing her body against the bookshelf with his own. His dark eyes brewed with irritation, and another emotion she couldn't quite decipher.
"Trust me." She said, her chest heaving with every bre...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
February 16th, 1947
"Tom, can we stop somewhere?" Cerys mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. Maybe the cold was getting to her, but she could feel a pressure building between her eyebrows.
Tom rolled his eyes, not bothering to turn them around to the witch behind him. "It's only been thrity minutes since we've left the hotel, Cerys. I'm sure you're fine."
Cerys didn't say anything. Maybe Tom was right. There was no reason for her to feel this way. Unless... she was about to turn. She was supposed to a while ago, but she reckoned that she was gaining control over her animagus, especially since her necklace had been taken away. Cerys swallowed a lump in her throat, despite her mouth being dry, and she trudged on. As they made a turn into Knockturn Alley, the witch could feel her breaths become a slight bit shallow. She brushed it off... as much as she could that is. Borgin and Burkes was not too far from here, though, when they approached, Tom was disgruntled to see the shop very much full.
"What did you expect?" Cerys groaned, her head hitting the wall of the shop as she leaned back against the brick. "Grindelwald is around and it's the weekend. Clearly, people are taking advantage of it."
Tom gnawed on his bottom lip, eyes narrowed in displeasure. She was right. The Ministry was conducting investigations in many houses, a lot of which contained possessions that could attract unwanted attention from the Ministry. "It's still early in the morning."
"That didn't seem to stop anyone." Cerys rolled her eyes. "Now, do you plan to stay here? The longer we're out, the more our chances of... you know who finding us increasing."
Tom furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed Cerys visibly cringing at the words 'you know who'. Although he could assume it was out of the fear of someone overhearing their— what would seem like— suspicious conversation, her expression and tone did not match that of fear, rather an unexplainable awkwardness.
Either way, he didn't question her about it. "We'll wait a few minutes. Once it's ten past—," which meant about fifteen minutes, "—we'll leave if we've no luck. Even if...you know who sees us, he won't be able to do anything in broad daylight and in front of a mass of people." Again, Cerys cringed.
Cerys didn't argue with that. It was reasonable enough for her, so she followed Tom inside. Besides, she didn't believe the shop would become any less busy in fifteen minutes...Or so she thought. Cerys grit her teeth when she realized two more people were left until it was their turn in line. She prayed Dolohov was wrong about the necklace being last seen here. That or she hoped that the either Borgin or Burke had no idea as to what the locket was.
As the next person left the shop, Tom, from the inside pocket of his coat, pulled out his diary. When had he put it there? She had no clue, but that did not stop her from sending him a sharp gaze. "Can't believe you brought that stupid diary here."
