Seven Devils ★ T.M.R ★

Chapter Forty-One

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VOLDEMORT'S COMMAND
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"MORNING," CHARLIE SAID slowly, grinning at Marina as she came down the stairs.

She glared at him. "Not a word," she muttered, pointing at him threateningly as she seized the bucket of scraps by the bench.

"About what?" he asked innocently, taking a swig from his mug.

Marina narrowed her eyes at him and pulled on the gumboots lying by the door. "You know very well what I mean," she grumbled.

"Course I don't," Charlie smirked, "oh – unrelated side note, but I think I'll stop wasting my precious time making beds in Fred and George's room since I have a feeling no one's actually going to be sleeping in there anymore –"

Marina threw open the kitchen door and sped off across the yard, acutely aware of how hot her cheeks felt. She dragged out feeding the pigs for as long as she could but horrifically, Charlie's smirk was still in place when she returned.

"You're up rather late today," said Charlie very casually.

"You're lazing around as usual," Marina countered pointedly, nodding at his leisurely late-morning coffee as she set the bucket back down.

"Didn't sleep well?" he continued with a wide grin, smugness rendering him impervious to her deflection attempts. "Or perhaps, not much at all?"

"Charlie," Marina deadpanned with an admonishing look, kicking off the gumboots.

There were footsteps on the stairs and they both turned to see Tom pulling down his jumper as he stepped into the kitchen. His hair had been slightly mussed from the motion and Marina couldn't quite draw her gaze away from him as he straightened his collar, cheeks rather warm again.

"Oh hello, Tom," Charlie said very airily, leaning back in his seat and looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.

Tom briefly met Marina's eyes and seemed to clock her exasperation at once. "Good morning, Charlie," he said very smoothly, an amused smile flickering slightly on his lips.

"Just friends, huh?" Charlie asked wryly, having entirely too much fun with the situation.

"Well," Marina said loudly, striding off across the kitchen towards escape. "I'm going to go find Mrs Weasley – I'm sure she had something she'd like me to do –"

She marched past Tom with averted eyes before climbing the stairs two at a time. Almost as if in balance to Charlie's relentless quips, Mrs Weasley made no comment about Tom and Marina's sleeping arrangements – though she did keep giving them very soft looks whenever they were in the same room which inspired Marina to tackle some of the more challenging chores out in the garden that she'd been avoiding for weeks.

As she battled with the tightly bound fronds of the Flitterbloom bush trying to take over the strangled lemon tree, an idea had taken root in her head – and it was proving just as difficult to dislodge. When she returned to the house an hour later, she found Tom sitting at the kitchen table leaning attentively over Mrs Weasley's clock with his wand in hand, attempting to get the thing working again.

"Hey," she frowned as she sat opposite him and looking down at her dirt-smeared hands.

He looked up, his eyes travelling across her face and taking in her expression. "What's wrong?" he asked evenly.

She exhaled. "Look, I need you to not be stupid for a second."

Tom's brow arched. "Only for a second?" he asked dryly.