When September Ends

Chapter 18: Tumbling Down

The stock and barrel of the rifle gleamed with polish in the evening light which filtered through the office windows as Tom sat behind the desk; the weapons which had been cleaned already on his left and those yet to be touched on the right. The boxes of ammo had also been removed from the gun safe and now sat stacked on top carefully arranged by supply and caliber.

Finished with the last of the small internal pieces he set the cloth and oil aside and quickly reassembled the rifle, sliding them back into place with a series of satisfying clanks. Picking it up and hefting its weight in his hands he checked the chamber to ensure that there were no bullets inside before taking aim at the door and peering through the sight. Pinpointing the grain of the wood with his hunting eye. Easily thinking back to the last trip he'd used it. The last trip that he'd taken before Harry had put his foot down regarding the 'slaughter of majestic creatures for sport' and asked him to stop.

The savannah sun beat hot and heavy down on the back of his neck, his hair felt like a drenched sweat sponge and he wasn't quite sure if the person responsible for inventing the safari hat should be thanked or shot. An arid breeze rattled through the tall tawny grass and a large herd of wildebeest thundered by off to the right of their car in the near distance. Tom leaned against the side of the Jeep, looking out across the African plains.

Harry would have loved it here. Would have loved the wide open spaces and the endless blue skies. The animals and the terrain. The people and the villages. What he wouldn't have appreciated, more than likely, was the main reason that he and his father had come out to Kenya in the first place.

Big game hunting. Big cats, most specifically.

Regardless a large part of him wished that he'd still invited his husband along, if only for the chance to see the raven running around in a Shuka. He had no doubt that he'd appear as comfortable in the traditional clothing of Kenya as he would in his usual t shirts and jeans, just as he had with the Yukata when he'd dragged Tom along to Japan in pursuit of a supposed sighting of the Honshu Wolf.

"Wake up, Thomas. Now isn't the time for you to be dreaming of your husband, you've plenty of time to do so during the night. Head in the hunt, please, like I've always taught you."

Tom Riddle Senior smirked at him from the other side of the car, the curls of his hair which were visible beneath the drooping brim of the safari hat he wore stained the platinum grey of steel wool though he'd aged well; with only a passing glance at his face he could easily be mistaken as fifty instead of almost seventy five. The brunet sincerely hoped that it was a glimpse into his own future, though God only knew if good genes would be enough to save him from the stress levels inherent to his job.

"Sorry, father."

"Did he ever find his wolf? The two of you were in Japan for a few months; I'd have expected you to have bagged at least one of them in that time."

"They've been officially extinct since the Meiji Period and even if there were any left the population would be extremely small. If I'd even suggested hunting them he probably would have shot me."

His father snorted. "Should have brought him along; his absence has you quite distracted."

"I thought that this trip was meant to be a father-son thing. A last hoorah before the doctors tied you to a gurney."

"It was, but you seem to be with him whether you bring him along or not."

"It wouldn't have gone over well. He's a conservationist."

"Isn't taxidermy a form of conservation?"

"Jesus Christ! Never say that to him!"