antebellum [t. riddle]

xliv.

26 december 1944

sicaria woke up with dried tears on her face.

she immediately scolded herself for being so reckless. 

she remembered the conclusion that she had come to the previous night. she told herself that she would talk to riddle today. she paced around her room in thought of how to approach the topic. should she bring it up? should she let him come to her?

sicaria didn't know how to approach this. she had never done it before. 

don't plan. just do it. 

he was sitting in the same spot on her couch, now eating plain crackers and water. she scoffed to herself. he was reading one of the books from her shelves, and she bit back a comment about him not asking to read her books. that would get her nowhere.

he looked up when she entered the room. his eyes flickered to her hand then back up to her face.

the american wizarding newspaper sat on the coffee table, and he looked between her and it. there was a possibility she had already seen the news, or perhaps she was there. he didn't know. the headline read INTERVENTIONISTS CLASH WITH ISOLATIONIST PROTESTORS OUTSIDE MACUSA CHRISTMAS PARTY. there had been several skirmishes between american wizards who wanted to help europe in defeating grindelwald and others who believe that it was best for the american wizarding community to remain out of it. there was a photo on the front of the protestors dueling, and aurors running out of the building to deal with the situation. 

his eyes searched hers, and the faintest whisper of legilimency danced at the edge of her consciousness. she either didn't force him out completely, or didn't notice him there, but he didn't press further. he saw just enough to know she wasn't alright.

"you've been drinking." he accused, but something about her wasn't quite right. he couldn't place it. whatever was going on with her didn't look like the aftermath of a night of drinking, but it was the closest explanation he could come to. he wondered if she might have been there at the protest last night. 

truly, he couldn't conclude anything about what her services to macusa entailed, and he was getting impatient in waiting. he knew what he was doing was strategic, but that didn't make it any less frustrating to deal with.

"i'm an adult." she dismissed.

"how old are you?" it slipped out before he could stop it.

right, she thought. she forgot that he didn't know what's true and what wasn't.

"i'm am eighteen." she said, trying to keep the bile from rising in her throat. every time she even thought about having this conversation with him, she felt like she was on the brink of an anxiety attack. she would have to take several calming draughts before she'd be able to explain her situation to him. perhaps she should write herself a script.

they'd have to talk about it eventually. she decided that she'd do it while he was here rather than have to tell the other four. she didn't want to be around to see the looks on their faces.

how many children have you used to imprison their parents? is that the same tactic you've been using on malfoy and rosier?

she prayed that abraxas and adonis wouldn't believe that. as useful as it would be, she didn't want them to hate her, and she didn't want them to think she had been using them. she wouldn't be able to handle it. 

"here," riddle said, holding out four letters and a package to her. "they sent these two. three other owls came with the others." he gestured to a wine bottle that was perched on her cabinet.