Chapter Five

Lies In Her Blood

1943

The reply hit me faster than a Stunner to the chest.

And thrice the weight. I could barely breathe.

"Hey, what happened?"

I raised my head from where it was resting on my knees, my back flattened against the banister of the stairwell that led up to the Astronomy Tower.

It was Tom Riddle.

I opened my mouth, but a choking sob escaped. My eyes were red, dry and stung., parched of tears. I shut them tightly so that Tom wouldn't see.

He sat down beside me, his hands rubbing small circles in my back. "Taylor, what happened?"

"Malfoy," I sputtered. "He was right..."

And I couldn't hold it in any longer. The truth poured out like I'd been drinking Veritaserum by the gallons...

I told him everything. I don't think I could have if it had been anybody else holding me, then, but he was Tom, and he really cared. I told him what Kate Calvicci wrote. And what Mother wrote. The tears broke through their dam, and my shoulders shook.

I could feel Tom's arms around me, holding me closer, until my convulsions could subside.

"Tom," I murmured, my head resting in the crook of his neck. "Will you tell me about your family?"

He was surprised; I could tell. I heard his heartbeat ricochet.

I was about to apologise for it, say he needn't, but then he spoke, and his voice was so mellow, deep, soft and reminiscent that they flowed like water across a stone floor.

"I've always been told by those who knew her, that my mother descended from Salazar Slytherin. To avoid persecution, they had all changed their names. They had chosen to call themselves Tsylerhin. My ancestors were not intellectuals— they could fight, and they had learnt the art of choosing battles.

"I remember my mother's face sometimes. She was very pretty. Long, black hair, and gemstone-like eyes. They often say I look more like her than I could ever look like my father, but I can't say I've ever seen a photograph of him.

"My father, Thomas Riddle, was almost enchanted by her. He was a Muggle, and he'd never heard of magic. My parents were never married, although my mother carried his ring. When she found out she was going to have a child, one with magic in his veins, she told Riddle the truth.

"He left her.

"I don't know, I suppose she could have cursed him to oblivion, for I found out she was a powerful witch, but she hadn't. Maybe because it was what Slytherin would have done. She'd descended from the Tyslerhins. But people always said she loved him too much to throw him in harm's way.

"She's dead now."

"Sorry," I whispered. I couldn't see his eyes, but I saw the tear rolling down his jaw.

"It's alright." His voice was muffled, strangled, but also, faintly hard. Like there was cruel bitterness he couldn't push away no matter how much he'd always tried.

"I envy you," I said absently. The rolled off my tongue. The two of us were in sitting the twilight, lost in a realm between the happiness we thought we'd always have and gripping sadness. "You are Salazar Slytherin's living heir ... purity of blood, and that's priceless..."

"True," murmured Tom, but he added in an attempt to make me feel better, "but magic is so much more so."

He shifted slightly. I moved to look up at him, and his eyes were looking back with a kind of strange, swelling, fiery intensity that I'd never seen before. He leaned forward, tilting his head towards me.

I closed my eyes to shut out those eyes, and Tom's calm, composed presence shimmered in the air beside me once more, now that I couldn't see him. Something was tugging at me, but whatever it was, it broke away and dissipated with the feel of Tom's mouth crashing down on mine...

---

My head was reeling, as I staggered back all the way into the Ravenclaw common room. Bridget raised her eyebrows at me, but I went straight to the girls' dormitory, feeling both giddy and slightly sick.

A picture of Kate and Frank Calvicci sat on my dresser. A much littler version of me stood with the, and I heard my voice ringing through my ears s the Hogwarts Express began to slowly leave behind the platform for the first time in my life. "Bye Mum, bye Dad, I'll not forget to write every day..."

My chest ached as I remembered the letters still shoved into my pocket.

All the pain kept rushing back, almost knocking me off my feet, it hurt me so much; I fell on the bed, my eyes open, blank and staring at the ceiling of the four-poster canopy.

Eric and Enid, I'd always loved my uncle and aunt no matter how, well, eccentric they were. I'd thought they were a tad crazy, working for the Muggle Communication branch in the Ministry. I'd said it to them too, but they'd never said a thing to me. They'd never told me, not even when they knew they were going to die...

Because the Muggle Prime Minister was stupid. He had them both in his employment, thinking they were like him. Non-magical. They were spies, and he was stupid. He was suspicious, and he thought they were political secret agents. Not his men and women who just wanted to ensure he didn't botch things up in between his meetings with our Minister.

My mother had known.

Both my mothers. The biological Enid. And my grandmother Kate. I don't think my mother even held me before she died. My father hadn't stopped at his brother's doorstep for long either; he'd handed me to Frank, and he was gone.

He had to run. For his family. For their lives.

It was in vain. Giving up his only daughter without second look had all been in vain. He'd been hunted down. Eric and Enid had been gunned down dead.

"Taylor?"

I jerked.

"Taylor?" repeated that soft tentative voice. "Can I come in?"

Holly was standing in the doorway to the dark dormitory, looking like she'd been decisive only minutes ago, but was beginning to lose her nerve now.

"Sure," I mumbled.

She came in, and sat down at the foot of my bed. "Bridget told me you were looking under the weather."

"Where is she?"

"Downstairs. She says I should wait a while before disturbing you. Is anything wrong?"

"You should've listened to her."

Holly's expression didn't waver. She knew me too well to know I always regretted snapping at her like this. "What's wrong?" she persisted gently. "You know you can tell us anything. Me and Bridget, we'll always be there if you want to talk."

"Thanks," I said, attempting a smile. I failed miserably.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" asked Holly.

I thought of the happy, oblivious photographs, the crumpled letters. I was tempted to tell her, because even if she wouldn't understand, she'd be there to comfort me. But something held me back.

My parents had been the stain on the pure bloodline of the Calviccis. It was betrayal to our house let slip something like that.

Blood is always thicker than water.

"It's really nothing," I said. "Come on, I bet we're late for dinner." I stood up, and in the dimness, beamed at her. "I'm totally famished, I'm going to eat— you coming?"