Zealous (Tom Riddle)

Chapter 24

It was Christmas morning and Elizabeth woke up with Tom at her side. He'd been sleeping on an uncomfortable, makeshift bed for the first week or so of the holidays. It consisted of two duvets, one underneath him and one over his body, but they were thin and the herd of pillows he'd collected didn't help the lack of comfort. He'd eventually ended up climbing into bed with Elizabeth every night and wrapping his arms around her waist to warm up.

Elizabeth smiled into his chest. They both adored being close together like a newborn baby clung to its mother. Squeezing Tom lovingly, Elizabeth poked his cheek with a gentle touch.

"Elizabeth," Tom whined. He was always like this when he woke up, or so Elizabeth had found out. He'd always hold onto her and never want to get up, which was surprising considering that he was a very proactive person when it came to taking on the days as they went. His head smushed against her pillow and their faces became dangerously close. Elizabeth pulled herself back wearily, she couldn't deal with how fast it had made her heart beat. He was like a disease coursing through her veins, infecting her by the second.

"Tom!" Elizabeth laughed, pulling the light green covers off them both. Tom gave Elizabeth a warning, agitated glance but it softened and disappeared when she told him, "It's Christmas."

Tom nodded cautiously, watching Elizabeth's animated expression, "Yes, I suppose it is. I've never really... celebrated Christmas."

His frosty eyes caught sight of something behind Elizabeth's messy bed-head. Her long brown curls stuck out in all the wrong places and fell over her pretty face. Tom's eyes flickered back to the window. He frowned, somewhat intrigued yet vaguely annoyed, "It's snowing."

Elizabeth swivelled to see what was behind her instantly, her chestnut eyes full of pure happiness. She declared that Tom was correct and told him she loved the snow, which made him smile softly. He marvelled at her when he found out any new information about her.

"Elizabeth, is that you?" A croaky, aged voice rang in the pair's ears; Elizabeth's grandfather. "Your grandmother and I are well awake and ready to go, if you two are also up!"

"We'll be out soon," Elizabeth called back, her whole face lighting up. Tom slowly rose from the bed, shoving on a fresh shirt that he pulled from his suitcase. Making sure Elizabeth's back was turned, he took off his trousers in one swift motion and pulled on another clean, black pair. As Tom turned, Elizabeth pulled up a little black dress. Tom's eyes scanned over the arch of her back, the way her skin dimpled where her spine was and the elegancy of her shoulders. She was pale and her body was peppered with tiny, light freckles. Tom appreciated her beauty, waiting for her to turn.

When she did, their eyes met like fire met water. It was a connection that somehow washed both of them out but it was a bond that was undeniably true and full of emotion. Elizabeth looked to the floor. Tom's eyes wavered over her dress. It had a sweetheart neckline, but mesh covered her shoulders up to her neck and had three-quarter sleeves. It fell just above her knees but her legs were covered in thick black tights. Sucking in a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, he stepped closer to her.

Tom raised a soft, pale hand to Elizabeth's arm, stroking it over her skin as if she were a delicate puppy. His eyes were like storm clouds and she was the rain, the gaze they held met, then went, met, then went. Eventually Tom's pleading glance convinced Elizabeth to look at him with the eyes that, in the broad morning light, became a whiskey colour that intoxicated Tom over and over again. He leaned forwards, his hand moving up to her cheeks that were dusted a pale scarlet.

Tom almost literally shivered as he felt small shocks rise in his heart. He was touching her skin, her face, anywhere he could. He'd become so besotted with her that he hadn't even realised himself how he'd changed. He no longer had the aspirations to be the Dark Lord and to be Voldemort. He didn't crave power anymore; he craved the feeling of touching her like this and his deepest desire was to hold her in his arms and press his lips to hers.

They both inched forwards again. Tom's orbs that were like icicles that were melted by Elizabeth's liquid gold ones met her gaze again, asking for some sort of permission or consent. Elizabeth's lips barely parted. She didn't nod or urge him to lean even closer, but the way her lips quivered told Tom that she wanted this just as much as he did.

Elizabeth and Tom were about as inexperienced as each other, so to say that the moment was perfect would be utter lies. They both shook as they moved. Tom pushed himself towards Elizabeth again. She responded in the same way, Tom's soft, salmon pink lips just above hers. His glance flickered down to her rosy pink lips and her fuchsia cheeks. Just a little closer, he told himself.

Inside Tom was a flurry of self-consciousness, anxiety and nervousness. He didn't want to ruin everything that had happened between them; he prayed he wouldn't waste it. Nevertheless, he advanced further and in a brief moment, his velvety lips were in contact with Elizabeth's delicate ones, and they were kissing. Both of them sucked in a breath and released it as their lips parted for the shortest of times. Connecting their mouths again, they moved in sync like they were performing the finest of arts.

Tom didn't dare take it any further. It was like he could feel that Elizabeth was overflowing with similar emotions to what he had, tenderness and uneasiness. Smiling against her lips, he placed his hands on her shaking hips. Their whole bodies were convulsing and Tom finally made the decision to stray their mouths from one another.

Elizabeth's caramel eyes studied Tom's expression. He was in bliss, as was she. Their moment was short-lived as Elizabeth's grandmother shouted up the stairs, "Are you two ready yet, dear?"

Resisting the urge to giggle, Elizabeth replied in a voice that quavered as she spoke, thanks to her first kiss, "Yes, grandmother. I'll be there now."

"And Tom?"

This time, Elizabeth couldn't stifle her laugh. Once she was finished, she replied, "And Tom."

She meant it. There was no Elizabeth without her Tom, there was no Tom without his Elizabeth. This was reassured in both of them as Tom leaned towards Elizabeth's slender ear and tentatively whispered, "Will you be mine, Elizabeth?"