antebellum [t. riddle]

xxxv.

22 december 1944


when sicaria stepped out of the shower, she looked out of the bathroom window saw malfoy, rosier, and lestrange up on brooms, riding around in the sunrise. nott and riddle were sitting in the grass several yards away, seemingly talking amongst each other. she forced herself to look away.

she spent the next few minutes pacing around her room, trying to reacclimate her legs to walking. she did several paces past the mirror to ensure that her stride looked normal. once she was able to take a step without wincing, she headed down the stairs to face the music. 

she made it down for breakfast at eight sharp, but noticed that neither of malfoy's parents were present. it was then explained to her that mr. malfoy had left to bulgaria on business, and mrs. malfoy was out in diagon alley. 

the six of them ate in a different dining room than they did for dinner last night. this one had a circular table, and she ended up sitting between thomas and adrien.

"sleep well?" nott asked.

she stiffened slightly, but nodded. "fine."

what the hell has happened to me? it had never, in all of sicaria's life, been hard for her to lie. it was easy, it came naturally, and she never felt guilty about it, but for some godforsaken reason, five random english boys had managed to screw up whatever talent she had at that too. perhaps this was the cost of letting people know you; them being able to see through you.

he smirked at her and she scowled. "you know," he started, conversationally. "i looked for riddle in his room earlier this morning, but he wasn't there when i went."

"is that so?" she picked up the small cup of black tea that the elves had prepared for her.

thomas nodded vigorously. "yes. any clue as to where he may have been?"

"he's sitting right there, i'm sure you can ask him." sicaria responded, letting her eyes flicker to riddle for a fraction of a second.

"do you think i wont? i'll call your bluff, edwards."

she continued to deflect half-heartedly, hoping his threats were empty. "for christs sake, thomas. it seems you already have a conclusion made up in your mind."

he laughed at her. "do you fancy him?"

"do i what?" she raised an eyebrow, looking him in the eyes for the first time this morning.

"fancy him. like him."

"oh," she said, wondering why british dialect was so unnecessarily complex. "no."

"no?"

"were you expecting another answer?"

"no, actually. i was not expecting you to admit it."

"you have convinced yourself. believe whatever you want." she managed to get through the interrogation without lying, affirmation, or vehement denial. she'd call it a success, because he had no more evidence now than he had before, but still, he seemed to know.

"oh trust me, i will. i think you'll admit it to yourself soon enough, my dear sicaria." she narrowed her eyes at him, but did not get a chance to respond as he turned to adonis, who was on his other side.

she tried to ignore nott's last sentence to her, about admitting it to herself, but truly she didn't know what it was. she didn't want to like him, that was the problem. for one, what if it was a 'no feelings attached' kind of thing for him? she ridiculed herself internally, because she knew that the moment she portkeyed out of this house, her feelings for riddle would be nothing and mean nothing. there was no point in liking him, because she'd have to detach herself from all of them until she disappeared and never saw them again. she knew that she'd never slept with anyone she didn't like, so by the criteria of it, she did, like him. she liked the manipulative little sociopath.