antebellum [t. riddle]

xxxii.

20 december 1944

they did not immediately go to bed. 

instead, they returned to the common room, and sicaria was suddenly hit with a wave of sleepiness so potent that she almost fell over. 

she hadn't dreamt anything, and had only realized she'd fallen asleep when she was finally jolted to consciousness.

when she woke up, rosier was shaking her; his wand hanging loosely out of his pocket. sicaria stared up at him, dazed and eyes slightly out of focus. 

"edwards? it's almost three, you should go to bed." he said gently, like he was talking to a child. 

she sat up a little too quickly, looking around at the other four boys, who looked slightly disheveled. riddle's hair was messy, both nott and malfoy were bleeding from the lip, lestrange had a sinister looking grin on his face, and rosier's shirt was untucked and slightly unbuttoned. 

what's going on?

she fumbled around for her wand before finally just summoning it to her hand. it was on the floor right next to the spot on the couch where she'd awoken. 

she was confused. how had she slept until three if they left the forest near midnight? why hadn't they immediately woken her? they didn't look like they had also slept?

"what happened?" her voice slurred as she spoke. "why do you all look like that?"

"confundus." it was whispered, and she could not even hear it. her shoulders slumped, and her brain felt warm and mushy. 

"edwards," lestrange said, helping her to her feet. "you're tired, aren't you?"

who is edwards? oh.

was she tired? she didn't know, but it sounded right. 

am i tired? "yes, i think so."

"then how about you go to bed, yeah?" rosier hooked himself with her other arm

she frowned. "but there's something i have to do. something i needed to do, i think..."

the dance is already over. 

you already healed them.

is it something for macusa?

or an assignment?

"you need to go to bed." riddle said, and she looked into his eyes.

i do? "really?"

"yes. now go." i like his voice.

rosier and lestrange pulled her, and she let her body go forward with them. she frowned and mumbled to rosier. "your friend is rather abrasive."

it was more of a stage whisper. they all heard her, and malfoy stifled a laugh as a cough.

lestrange's lip quirked up. "is he not your friend?" is he? i'm not sure. she shook her head. "what is he to you, then?"

what is he, to me?

we haven't even slept together yet, or else i'd call him a tryst. 

she hummed. maybe they were friends. friends who make out. she opened her mouth to say this. 

"edwards, don't answer that," riddle hissed from behind her. she closed her mouth. "ask her another question and i'll cut your tongue out, lestrange."

she giggled in a manner that was very unlike her. "you know i did that once? the lingual vein actually has a large blood supply, and it was very gruesome."