You Know in the End (Tom/Alecto)
Title: You Know in the End
Prompt: 009. Candles
Rating: PG
Word Count: 800
Characters: Alecto Carrow, Tom Marvolo, Calliope Lestrange, Rashnu Lestrange, Nikolai Rosier
Summary: It seems that they keep missing each other... until a ball.
Notes/Warnings: This was requested by sectari who wanted Tom/ Alecto with the theme of him knowing she's always devoted. The warnings are that I haven't slept so any strange mistakes? Yeah, blame that. Way blame that.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. But quite modified in most cases by their individual writers at Founders or my perception of them.
A faint aroma lingered in the air, drifting in little wisps from the candles that had just been gone out. They had not really been lit for the scent, she did not enjoy it, but for the smoke that came after. The fact that they had burned into puddles instead of solid forms and were beginning to leak off the side, dripping into little patterns on the wardrobe, had nothing to do that. She continued to tell herself that she did not mind that the candles had burnt out - she preferred the smell. It made her think of fire and that had ever been a fascination of hers, almost enough to distract her from the fact that she was the only one in her bed. Again.
Making a frustrated noise - no man was worth her sitting at home and thinking about if she had made some sort of mistake - she pulled on her robes and left. Not a minute after the door closer a man Apparated into the room, red eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He could smell the faint traces of smoke left in the air, but she was not there. He was not one to wait anymore than she.
It was a beautiful ball, filled with all the members of polite society who could boast the proper ties. There was even a live string orchestra set up at the front of the room with a singer who stepped up to join in every other song, voice sweet and pure as any that had been heard. Many had commented on her, complimenting the host and hostess for their good choice. Calliope Lestrange accepted gracefully, Rashnu simply smiled as he always did and replied that he knew. The Lestranges had never once thrown a ball that could be called anything less than perfect in any way. Rashnu claimed that it was because he did not know how, even though everyone knew that the real mind behind all of it was his wife.
Only one person had not offered compliments, but no one expected him to. No one had even expected to see him there. He had arrived and taken up a position in a corner overlooking the room, untouched glass of wine in hand, nodding to people as they came and engaged him for conversation. None stayed for very long. His eyes unnerved those who were not close to him and those who were close enough to not fear the color of his eyes knew better than to bother him when his face was as smooth as that. Only one could have gone up to him and carried on a conversation, but that one was quite deliberately staying on the opposite side of the dance floor.
In the arms of another man, at that, smiling and somehow laughing. Nikolai Rosier. The man was married and yet he would still flirt with any young woman that he could. He seemed to lack the ability to remember which ones were more dangerous to play with than fire. Even if it had been initiated by the brunette whose eyes kept flicking to the red-eyed man in the corner.
He was only able to stand there for an hour before he gave his still full glass to a passing servant. When he walked through the dance floor he did not have to worry about dodging people, they parted around him like water until he stood next to the couple his eyes had been on the whole night. His hand came up and resting lightly on the brunette's bare shoulder, the couple stopping and coming apart the moment that he touched her, as though a shock had gone through them.
Not a word came from his mouth as his other hand came up to touch lightly against her face. Nikolai sketched a bow and turned before either of them could say anything, going to where a sullen looking blonde had been waiting.
The orchestra struck up their next tune, slow and mellow, and the two turned with it. Several minutes passed before she cleared her throat and said, "You have not come for a week."
"I have," he countered, "late, but I have. You are not there."
"I don't wait."
"I know."
This silence lasted not a heartbeat. "I'd hoped you would be here tonight." She would never say that she had missed him and he would never ask. They both knew what the answer was so they were wasted words, something that he could never be accused of doing. "Though I didn't think you'd actually dance." A ghost of a smile crossed his face and he waited as her cheeks slowly colored. "Yes, I danced with Nikolai to attract your eye. I wanted to dance." Another pause. "With you."
"I know."
Prompt: 009. Candles
Rating: PG
Word Count: 800
Characters: Alecto Carrow, Tom Marvolo, Calliope Lestrange, Rashnu Lestrange, Nikolai Rosier
Summary: It seems that they keep missing each other... until a ball.
Notes/Warnings: This was requested by sectari who wanted Tom/ Alecto with the theme of him knowing she's always devoted. The warnings are that I haven't slept so any strange mistakes? Yeah, blame that. Way blame that.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. But quite modified in most cases by their individual writers at Founders or my perception of them.
A faint aroma lingered in the air, drifting in little wisps from the candles that had just been gone out. They had not really been lit for the scent, she did not enjoy it, but for the smoke that came after. The fact that they had burned into puddles instead of solid forms and were beginning to leak off the side, dripping into little patterns on the wardrobe, had nothing to do that. She continued to tell herself that she did not mind that the candles had burnt out - she preferred the smell. It made her think of fire and that had ever been a fascination of hers, almost enough to distract her from the fact that she was the only one in her bed. Again.
Making a frustrated noise - no man was worth her sitting at home and thinking about if she had made some sort of mistake - she pulled on her robes and left. Not a minute after the door closer a man Apparated into the room, red eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He could smell the faint traces of smoke left in the air, but she was not there. He was not one to wait anymore than she.
It was a beautiful ball, filled with all the members of polite society who could boast the proper ties. There was even a live string orchestra set up at the front of the room with a singer who stepped up to join in every other song, voice sweet and pure as any that had been heard. Many had commented on her, complimenting the host and hostess for their good choice. Calliope Lestrange accepted gracefully, Rashnu simply smiled as he always did and replied that he knew. The Lestranges had never once thrown a ball that could be called anything less than perfect in any way. Rashnu claimed that it was because he did not know how, even though everyone knew that the real mind behind all of it was his wife.
Only one person had not offered compliments, but no one expected him to. No one had even expected to see him there. He had arrived and taken up a position in a corner overlooking the room, untouched glass of wine in hand, nodding to people as they came and engaged him for conversation. None stayed for very long. His eyes unnerved those who were not close to him and those who were close enough to not fear the color of his eyes knew better than to bother him when his face was as smooth as that. Only one could have gone up to him and carried on a conversation, but that one was quite deliberately staying on the opposite side of the dance floor.
In the arms of another man, at that, smiling and somehow laughing. Nikolai Rosier. The man was married and yet he would still flirt with any young woman that he could. He seemed to lack the ability to remember which ones were more dangerous to play with than fire. Even if it had been initiated by the brunette whose eyes kept flicking to the red-eyed man in the corner.
He was only able to stand there for an hour before he gave his still full glass to a passing servant. When he walked through the dance floor he did not have to worry about dodging people, they parted around him like water until he stood next to the couple his eyes had been on the whole night. His hand came up and resting lightly on the brunette's bare shoulder, the couple stopping and coming apart the moment that he touched her, as though a shock had gone through them.
Not a word came from his mouth as his other hand came up to touch lightly against her face. Nikolai sketched a bow and turned before either of them could say anything, going to where a sullen looking blonde had been waiting.
The orchestra struck up their next tune, slow and mellow, and the two turned with it. Several minutes passed before she cleared her throat and said, "You have not come for a week."
"I have," he countered, "late, but I have. You are not there."
"I don't wait."
"I know."
This silence lasted not a heartbeat. "I'd hoped you would be here tonight." She would never say that she had missed him and he would never ask. They both knew what the answer was so they were wasted words, something that he could never be accused of doing. "Though I didn't think you'd actually dance." A ghost of a smile crossed his face and he waited as her cheeks slowly colored. "Yes, I danced with Nikolai to attract your eye. I wanted to dance." Another pause. "With you."
"I know."