The Patronus of Tom Riddle

Beneath the canopy of the forest, it was cool and quite damp. Here and there, sunbeams pierced through the young foliage, falling in golden columns. Tom offered Aola his arm—the forest grew upon the slopes, and beneath the springy carpet of moss and grass lay clusters of large stones over which one might easily stumble. They emerged into a small clearing overgrown with fading daffodils. The girl cupped her hands around her mouth and called out: “Snowball! Snow-ball!” She listened. “Come to me, my boy!” There was so much tenderness in her voice that Tom thought—had she called him like that, he would have come running at full tilt… “He doesn’t wander far; he’ll be grazing nearby,” she explained. Soon, the quiet forest sounds—the rustle of branches, the chirping of birds—were joined by a light drumming of hooves, muffled by the forest floor. When the animal trotted into the clearing, Tom nearly gasped: not a trace remained of the mournful nag! His pale coat shimmered like silver in the sun, his mane and tail flowed to the ground like silk, and his flanks had noticeably rounded. Upon seeing them, the unicorn snorted joyfully and approached without fear. Aola stroked his muzzle affectionately. It seemed even the short, sawn-off horn had begun to grow back. “Snowball, this is Tom. He helped set you free.” The beast sniffed the outstretched palm and suddenly rested his head on the Slytherin’s shoulder. A large violet eye was right beside him, shining with such intelligence and gratitude… Tom suddenly felt a pang in the pit of his stomach. He cautiously touched the head between the supple ears. The coat felt like velvet to the touch. The unicorn whinnied softly. “He says you are a good man, and that you smell pleasant,” Aola informed him. “You understand him?!” Tom exclaimed in admiration. “Yes. Him, and other beasts and birds. It comes from my mother.” “I can speak with snakes… Though there are none at all in Scotland, not a single one.” Aola smiled. “That is a rare gift. Professor Dumbledore mentioned you were a Parselmouth.” “I am a descendant of Salazar Slytherin,” Tom explained proudly. “Indeed?” He nodded importantly. He didn’t want his beloved to think he was some common stray… “Snowball, you are very handsome. I hope your horn grows back soon,” he said, stroking the thick mane. His fingers brushed against hers as she petted the animal. Aola looked at him tenderly and… in a peculiar way. Instantly, sweet goosebumps prickled Tom’s skin. The quarrel over the Patronus, the revelation of her engagement… all of it had pushed their relationship back, as if that chaotic Easter day and the night in the steppe pavilion had never happened. Resolving to kiss her again was no simple matter. “To think… only a week has passed,” Tom said, “and he has changed so much.” “Ruby runs to him with a scraper, a brush, and treats every spare minute she has,” Aola smiled. Ruby?! Hm… Ah, yes, the treats! He knelt down and opened the picnic basket they had brought. He broke a crust from a round loaf of homemade bread and held it out to the unicorn on his palm. The creature sniffed the offering loudly and delicately took it with soft lips, crunching thoughtfully. Tom smiled. It was, as it turned out, quite pleasant. “And me! Me too!” Aola skipped like a little girl before a pink chick, demandingly holding out her hand. He broke off a crust for her as well. “Must I feed you by hand too?” Tom couldn’t help himself. She laughed and then stuck her tongue out at him. After treating the unicorn to bread and sliced pumpkin, they spread a blanket on the grass. Aola sat down, kicked off her shoes, and with a happy sigh, buried her feet in the fresh grass. Perhaps it was her Peri blood that drew her to nature and animals. And Tom was drawn to her… The unicorn stood nearby for a while longer before wandering across the clearing, munching on succulent stems. “Love and freedom work miracles,” the girl said, watching him. Freedom… How timely of her to mention it. Hesitating for a second, Tom asked: “Is… is he coming soon?” “Who, Tom?” “Well, your fiancé,” the teenager clarified as indifferently as possible, uncorking a bottle of rosé. “Perhaps,” she dodged the direct answer, casting him a sly look as she pulled a pair of silver goblets from the basket. “And… what will you tell him?” “About what?” Playing the fool… again. Tom felt irritation rising. What a habit she had of constantly pulling his leg! “About everything… About us. I think you should break it off…” “You think so?” “Of course!” His hand trembled with agitation, and Tom nearly spilled Milady’s drink onto her dress. “A strange demand…” Aola sipped the wine. “Especially after you flatly refused to marry me yourself. What then? Am I to spend my endless days as an old maid?” “I said that because I was angry… I don’t truly think that… But you don’t love him!” Tom shoved the bottle into the basket and seized her hand, squeezing it with both of his. “Whence such certainty, Mr. Riddle?” the girl continued her game, clearly amused by her young admirer’s fervor. He saw it and understood it, but he couldn’t stop. “You said yourself that you forgot all your obligations… That means it isn’t true love. One cannot forget what is real.” “Did you read that in some book? Or do you know it from your own experience?” “You enjoy mocking me? Fine! But you know yourself that I am right!” He released her hand and turned away, trying to master the emotion overwhelming him. Heaven and hell, an angel and a foul-tongued demon—this woman tore him apart in every single second of his existence. Aola moved closer to him. “Do people marry only for love?” she asked softly, looking into his eyes. “In different ways, of course… but isn’t love better? Tell me the truth, is your father forcing you?” Aola laughed quietly. “Goodness, no… Father broke family traditions like matchsticks, and in turn, he expects no blind obedience from me. Fortunately, he sees me as something more than a pedigreed mare or a doe meant to mate with whomever she is told. He does not interfere in my heart’s affairs at all. At my age… duennas are no longer required.” “Then you chose him yourself…” Aola set aside her goblet and leaned closer to Tom, so close that their noses nearly touched. “There is no fiancé, Tommy… I made him up to pique you,” she whispered, licking her full lower lip. She added quickly, already knowing Mr. Riddle inside and out: “And don’t you dare pout again! It really will be over between us then. You called me a hideous old crone and preferred death to marriage! That was quite hurtful. Had I not the right to a little revenge?” No?! No?!!! No puffed-up aristocratic turkey with a claim to Aola’s body and soul existed in nature?! Tom barely restrained himself from turning cartwheels over the yellow daffodils. It was such a relief, such a joy, that the hot-headed heir of Slytherin didn’t even think of being offended. He smiled as only the happiest children in the world smile, whispered, “You had…” and reached for her lips. The contact was so tender, unhurried, and sweet… It was as if he were touching rose petals. Even better than the first time. This miracle was infinite, wasn’t it? Aola returned the kiss… again and again… a sharp little tongue slid softly over his lips… teased, retreated… his body responded with a pleasant tremor, and his heart began its familiar race, pumping hormones through his veins. Tom touched her soft cheek, the hair above her ear… There was no damned fiancé. No wrathful Papa. There were no barriers between them. A snap in the bushes at the edge of the clearing caused him to break the embrace in a split second and shield Aola with his body. The adrenaline in his blood shifted course instantly. Tom didn’t even have time to think about what he was doing before a Stupefy shot from his wand into whatever was rustling there. Aola peered from behind his shoulder, then looked at her protector with fox-like eyes wide with fright. “What if it’s a deer?” “And what if it’s a thug?!” Tom was still expecting an attack, but only the snort and thud of the unicorn bolting into those very bushes broke the forest’s peace. He had clearly recognized the uninvited guest… “Hagrid!!!” they realized in unison. Fortunately or not, Stupefy had no effect on giants whatsoever. Tom immediately regretted that. Aola looked relieved: “Poor boy! He came to visit his favorite, saw us kissing… decided to leave quietly… And you hit him with a Stunning Spell without a word! Thank goodness it wasn’t an Avada!” “It’s his own fault for being as graceful as an elephant in a china shop!” the frustrated Riddle snapped. “I was frightened for you…” That mammoth-shaped blockhead—not only had he interrupted at the most pleasant moment, but he had seen what he shouldn’t have! He should have used a Freezing Charm. And then wiped his memory… “Thank you… you are a true protector, Tom,” Milady said, unexpectedly moved, and pecked him on the cheek. “Do you think he’ll blab to anyone?” the teenager asked, feeling proud of himself. Not even a mouse could slip past him… let alone thugs or giants. “I don’t think so. I’ll speak to him in any case… Myself. Don’t touch him, alright? He’s likely terribly embarrassed as it is. We must be more careful, Tommy… I am your teacher, after all. Imagine if it reaches the Headmaster… I’d be out of Hogwarts in no time. And I like it here.” “Very well…” Tom sighed, though he didn’t want to be careful, not a bit. He wanted to kiss her whenever and wherever he pleased… To fall asleep in the same bed, holding her. To show the whole world that this magnificent woman was his. His! If only he could finish school faster! The last two years were hardly necessary, and as for the curriculum—he was already head and shoulders above his peers. Aola herself could teach him everything he didn’t yet know… “And with combat magic… be careful with that too, Tommy. I worry for you. Killing is a heavy burden, especially for one of your age,” she took his face in her palms, searching his pupils as if she wanted to see his very soul at the bottom of them. “How are you? Do you have nightmares?” “No. It doesn’t weigh on me,” Tom answered honestly. “That is exactly what troubles me…”