Chapter 6
Tommy leaned over the greyish sink, cupping his hands to catch the falling water and splashing it on his face. He had thoroughly examined himself in the mirror as Sirius had on the stairs and decided that it was only the dim lighting that stopped the man from immediately finding the traces of his mental breakdown. Hence Sirius' prolonged staring contest with the bags under his eyes.
He groaned and dragged his hands down his face, cringing as he relived the memory of that morning yet again. He could have done anything differently - breakfast was still a lingering question in his mind - anything, really, anything - he wondered if he would eat, he was sort of hungry - and he nearly screamed as his brain tried to add another question to the amalgamation of thoughts swirling around in his mind.
He would go down to breakfast and stop worrying about that morning. Tonks was not Niki, Mad-Eye's eye did not remind him of Dream.
He knew those were false promises.
Tommy pushed his hair back with soaked fingers and grimaced, ruffling it until he looked slightly less presentable. That was his whole gimmick, looking like a deranged raccoon. He would look presentable when he wanted to, and that was never.
The door did not creak as he pulled it open, but it creaked as he pulled it shut. He wondered why.
He wondered a lot of things. Why the door would creak one way but not the other. Why the heavy curtains stayed dormant against the wall and were never moved. Why the door to the desolate bedroom on the third floor of 12 Grimmauld Place was so comforting. What Sirius would make for breakfast.
Why he couldn’t forget Dream.
And he was at the entrance of the dining hall, blinking down at the same bright pink hair that he hated so, so much. Niki’s was faded, dipped in bleach and stained with dye and berries. Tonks’ was unlike anything Tommy had ever seen. Technoblade’s was naturally bright to some extent, but Tonks’ was flaming pink, burning magenta - and he lost the words to describe it. He sidled around her and became painfully aware of easily it would be for her to just shove a knife into his side.
He wouldn't be able to resist, nor would he have any ability to fight back. The Skele-Gro still had his neck screaming, and that had, conveniently, affected every other limb attached to his frail body.
She gave him a peculiar look, one that Tommy couldn't exactly pinpoint, but he could detect no malicious intent behind her flaming eyes. He'd become fairly talented at picking up anything that exposed the true motives of anyone. In retrospect, everyone he knew was far too gifted in the department of skillfully lying through their teeth, and he had adapted accordingly.
And then Tonks dropped in behind him, following his steps. Tommy hated when people walked behind him. He really hated it. It didn't help that she reminded him of Niki. Sirius, Mad-Eye, Lupin, and a few others he didn't recognize were at the table, and Sirius seemed to be the current centre of attention, grinning widely as he recounted a story.
Tommy hovered awkwardly at a seat, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Sirius glanced and him and gestured with a hand as if telling him to sit down before seamlessly weaving back into his story.
"And so Remus shoved his hand in the jar with his eyes closed, and I remember...James, I think it was- his eyes nearly popped out of his head. It was a brownish-green one that Remus pulled out, and we all really hoped it was vomit, but he tried it and yelled, 'Caramel Apple!', and James just sighed. I still don't know if it was relief or disappointment."
Tommy stayed standing, arms propped against the chair. He was oddly interested in their conversation.
"Did you just say hoped?" Lupin's grin was still as wide as Sirius', but he received only a shrug. Sirius continued. "Anyways, I was next. So I rummaged around and grabbed the one that felt the smoothest - that was a mistake, by the way, I got earthworm."
Tommy grimaced and laughed at the same time, and his face ended up convulsing into something akin to the face of a massive man (like himself) trying to take a massive shit. His face flushed red with embarrassment and he tugged his hair down into his face, groaning quietly.
The only person - thing - that had seen was Dream's Moody's Eye. It stared, hard and cold-
DREAMDREAMDREAM
RUN
-and unforgiving, but Tommy stood unfazed; he'd made himself a promise-
he never kept his promises, he never did
-and so he stared back at the eye, and then to Sirius, and it was all okay-
BEHIND, BEHIND!!
-until something clattered behind him and he let out an inhuman screech, whipping around and closely missing a floating - FLOATING - tray of food. Something crashed to the ground and shattered - Tommy flinched, hard, as his heart dropped like an anvil.
"Shit- I'm sorry- I'm really sorry-"
He dropped to the ground, leaning over the mess. Something hot pooled at his legs and burned him through his pants, and sharp ceramic pieces cut his palms and made his fingers bleed. He picked up the remains of a pot laden with hot tea and his hands shook as he heard Sirius' footsteps hurrying towards him.
He didn't know if Sirius was of the sort that would hit him after he made a mistake, but he didn't want to take that risk.
"Tommy- stop. It's fine, my mother loved that bowl. I wanted to destroy it someday."
Tommy sat back on his heels, blood pounding through his ears, and he pushed the base of his palms into his knees. He avoided Sirius' eyes as he was helped up and shoved his trembling hands into faded pockets. "I didn't mean to, Sirius, I'm sorry-"
"Tommy." Sirius' tone was kind.
His jaw clicked shut and he stared at the ground, forcing himself to become particularly interested in a small crack in the floorboards.
Why is he so kind?
Why the hell is he so kind?
Tommy didn't want to trust Sirius. He didn't want to trust anyone, not even himself. He almost screamed again as he made eye contact with...he didn't know what it was. It was short, the size of a baby zombie, and had droopy pointed ears (that was hair growing out of them, wasn't it), a crooked nose that hung nearly to the bottom of its mouth, glaring, bloodshot eyes, and it was staring at him. And was that a dishcloth it was wearing?
He really didn't like whatever it was.
It reminded him of a Vex. Vexes were ugly little creatures, nasty and slippery little creatures, and somehow this one was worse. Tommy wasn't one to discriminate, but this thing was ugly and he decided he might die if he spent another second staring at it.
So he pulled out his chair and sat down in one fluid motion, forcing his eyes away from the wingless Vex-looking creature. The dishes floated (they floated, he still didn't know how) onto the table and clattered as they settled. The Vex-creature-thing walked away. He let out a quiet sigh.
The Aurors uncovered huge platters laden with eggs - all kinds of eggs; fried, scrambled, poached; bacon, sausages, rolls, scones, jams, hams, clams- (not clams, those were madeleines), and there were more he couldn't name, but he decided to give himself a pass.
All he'd known for the past seven days were raw potatoes. Raw, uncooked, dry, starchy potatoes. He would spend what seemed like hours sitting by the lava wall, rotating his lonely potato on the shiny black floor in hopes of making it somewhat bearable to eat.
And then it hit him; this would be his first real meal after seven days- seven days of eating raw, disgusting potatoes-
Still, he waited-
he had to wait
-for each guest at the table to dish their food up, silverware clinking excitedly and mouths animatedly chattering back and forth.
He waited, knuckles white against the dark edge of his chair, stomach clawing at his insides. Time passed painfully slow, taunting him, but it wasn't his turn yet. And it was over, just as he thought he couldn't wait a second longer. The clinking of plates stalled.
His lower lip trembled and he bit it, tearing his eyes from the food. He wanted to grab the whole platter and all but inhale the eggs- fuck they looked good - but he'd had enough experience with malnutrition to know he couldn't.
He almost had to hold his trembling hand back as he spooned eggs onto his plate. He dug his nails into the dull wooden sheen of his chair as he nested a steaming scone next to a few strips of perfectly crisp bacon - he could imagine Technoblade's look of betrayal - and loaded his scone with jam and butter.
And now the hard part. He turned to Sirius.
Sirius had been whisked away in another conversation, so Tommy just stared. He waited until someone - Tonks - pointed him out. Sirius turned to him, a smile lingering on his face. "Yes, Tommy?"
Tommy lowered his voice, pointing vaguely at his plate. "Can I eat now?" He offered Sirius a smile, dropping the expression as soon as it formed. The man stared blankly at him, and he wondered if he had fucked up, and now the question was what he did wrong; was he supposed to wait until after everyone had eaten?
No, he had dished up his food without asking. He mentally slapped himself, eyes darting away from Sirius'.
Fuck.
"I'm so sorry Sirius, I-"
"No, Tommy. You don't have to ask to eat. Food is supposed to be shared, so please." Sirius looked beyond concerned, just as he had when Tommy had shown him his scars. Tommy didn't understand why.
Either way, he gave Sirius a meek thumbs up and turned to his food. He lifted the scone to his mouth and smiled at it as if it were Prime itself.
The first bite was indescribable. All else melted away as he zeroed in on the scone; the warm buttery saltiness pooled in small pockets of air and steam and sweet, thick strawberry jam, the light crunch of its exterior and the cloud-like fluffiness as it exhaled vapour and butter and jam and thin layers of bread onto his tongue, the tears welling in his eyes because it was so good, so damn good, and it had every right to be that way because this was, after all, his first meal after being murdered in prison.
The strawberry jam reminded him somewhat of the blood spilling down his forehead and into his eyes as he died in prison. He took another bite. Another, and another- and he turned to Sirius, mouth full and working far too hard not to choke on the disturbing amount of scone he had shoved in his mouth.
He turned to Sirius when his mouth was slightly less full and smiled around his puffed cheeks, eyes shining with tears and excitement. "Shiriush, dish esh phuckig goog!!"
He swallowed heavily, wincing as the hot steam burned his throat. "Prime, it's real good- fuck. What the hell did you put in this- how many drugs did you put in this, big man?" Sirius seemed a bit taken aback but smiled at Tommy anyways. "No drugs, Tommy. And I didn't make the food, Kreacher did."
Tommy was too busy stuffing his face with bacon and eggs to hear his words.