antebellum [t. riddle]

xxv.

december 1944

maybe getting drunk yesterday wasn't the best idea, because sicaria couldn't help but to be obscenely embarrassed from the memory she showed them. while drunk, she knew how to get herself out of dangerous situations, but that didn't stop her from doing things that she decidedly wouldn't have if she was sober. all she could do was pray that they'd either not remember, or decidedly not bring it up.

she forced herself not to dwell on it though, and instead spent the entire day distracting herself with thinking about potion making procedure. occlumency was her saving grace, as she locked away any preconceived notions about how riddle would act. he was unpredictable and untrustworthy, and if she tried to come up with a hypothesis for his behavior, she'd go down an unending rabbit hole of anxiety and doubt. instead of this, she chose to nip the issue in the bud, and build barriers in her mind around everything that didn't include the potion.

so here she sat at dinner, not eating and barely making conversation, doing a last minute read through the spare potions textbook in which she made her annotations and created all the drafts of the procedure they'd be following. she read it again, and again, and again, each time making new changes and tweaking the recipe. she thought about calling it off entirely, and taking more time to do new research, but she felt like if she couldn't get high soon, she'd spontaneously combust. 

she felt her anxiety starting to peak and needed to busy herself with something, so she gathered her things from the table in preparation to leave. she was going to go to the classroom and begin setting up the materials, and begin on the parts she could do without him, but the moment she looked like she was leaving the dinner table, riddle looked away from his conversation for rosier. 

"oh you're ready now?" he said, seemingly unphased as their friends halted their conversation to listen to the two. 

she stared blankly at him for a second before speaking slowly. "you don't have to if you aren't-"

he sighed and stood. "i wouldn't offer if i objected to it."

"you didn't offer, you asked a question."

"semantics."

she looked away from riddle for a moment to their four friends sitting at the table. their confusion and questioning glances had become amused expressions and smirks. every time she met any of their eyes, they looked away as though they would struggle not to laugh if they made eye contact. 

she narrowed her eyes in suspicion and glanced at riddle questioningly. he waved his hand dismissively, giving no real answer to the question she was asking with her eyes. 

"ask," she commanded at the four of them. "i know you want to."

actually, she wanted them to ask. she wanted to clear up whatever assumptions they were making about anything involving her and riddle. it was brief. it was fleeting. it was a memory.

it was nothing.

she was okay with that. she understood it.

malfoy suppressed a laugh. "no, i don't want to know, actually."

"what are you implying?" she asked, fiddling with her ring as rosier choked on a laugh into his cup. 

"i'm not implying anything."

she scoffed. "i detest all of you." 

she stormed off (something she caught herself doing often nowadays) leaving riddle to catch up with her. he seemed to do so with no real effort, even managing to make it to the great hall door, reaching around to pull it open for her. she didn't thank him.