|𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞|𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

04

|| BALL ||
CHAPTER 4

NYX DE MARREL SAT IN FRONT OF
her mirror, carefully deciding what to wear, weighing what her family might deem "appropriate." The Yule Ball was tomorrow, and she felt a mix of dread and nerves; she knew it would be packed with guests, and she hoped, just this once, she'd slip by unnoticed.

Her dark curls, brushed to soft waves, cascaded down to her mid-back. But her hands shook as she applied makeup, layering it meticulously to mask the bruising on her cheek where her father's rings had left scratches. It took time, but eventually, the purple hue faded beneath her skillful application. She finished her eyes with nude-toned shadows that made them sparkle, framed by long, dark lashes. A dusting of rose blush on her cheekbones and blood-red lipstick completed her look.

Satisfied, Nyx turned to her dress: a floor-length, one-shoulder gown in deep red, with a slit that rose to mid-thigh, showing off her long legs. She slipped on black heels, fastened diamond earrings, and clasped a delicate silver necklace around her neck. Surveying her reflection, she had to admit she looked striking, even extraordinary. For a fleeting moment, she felt confident-she looked beautiful, and she held onto that feeling, hoping nothing would shatter it tonight.

A small pop sounded from the doorway as her house-elf, Dorota, appeared. "Miss Nyx, your father asks for you. Many guests have arrived."

Dorota's gaze softened. "Miss Nyx looks very beautiful."

Nyx managed a small smile. "Thank you, Dorota."

She left her room and made her way to the top of the stairs. As she descended, she felt the weight of every gaze on her, each guest scrutinizing her every step. But they found no fault in her-she moved gracefully, her chin high, back straight, her expression blank as she approached her family, their disapproving faces waiting below. Her father eyed her coolly, taking her arm with a rough grip.

"Finally, you found your way downstairs," he said, his voice clipped as he led her to the rest of her family.

Conversation was tense, filled with veiled criticisms. They shot her disdainful looks when they thought she wasn't watching, and she fought the urge to lash back, to curse them all for their petty cruelty. As they mocked her Hogwarts house, she bit her tongue, the thought of her friends warming her from within. Slytherin was her true home. It was there, in the common room and the boys' dorm, that she found her family.

Abraxas Malfoy, the brash and arrogant one-her brother in all but blood. Rodrick Avery, the witty one-her confidant. Damien Rosier, the rebellious one-her partner in trouble. Nicholas Lestrange, wise beyond his years-her counselor. And then there was Tom Riddle, the guarded boy who kept his distance from everyone except her. He alone made her pulse race, her heart stutter. They were her true family, the ones she trusted and loved fiercely.

A harsh squeeze from her father brought her back to the present, his grip like a warning. She hid her grimace, determined to show no weakness.

"Have you chosen a suitable match for her?" her aunt asked her father casually, and Nyx felt her stomach drop.

"Of course. We've had many offers," her father replied. "But I think I've found the right one."

Nyx's jaw tightened. Had he chosen her husband without even consulting her?

"Who is the lucky young man?" her aunt asked with a sly smile, swirling her wine.

"A fine young man from the Bloodworth family," her father replied, nodding approvingly. Nyx struggled not to recoil. Cullen Bloodworth was attractive, yes, and charming-too charming, she thought. They were far too different, and she couldn't imagine enduring a life bound to him.

"We'll meet with the Bloodworths soon-perhaps at the Malfoy's Yule Ball," her father said, noting the faint spark of hope in Nyx's expression.

"We're attending?" she asked, her voice betraying her eagerness to see her friends again.

"Yes," he replied, narrowing his eyes at her. She hid her relief, already yearning for her chosen family at Hogwarts, even though Tom wouldn't be there.

It was December 25th, and for Nyx, it meant one thing: presents. As was tradition, her father hadn't allowed her to join the family feast, so she'd woken alone, finding her gifts stacked at the foot of her bed.

Her father's gifts were the usual: impersonal dresses and dry academic books. She moved to the next, her heart warming as she recognized Rodrick's gift-a black dress she'd admired in Hogsmeade. Abraxas had sent her a beautiful emerald scarf with silver embroidery, and Damien, ever the mischief-maker, had gifted her a spell book filled with pranks and jinxes. Nicholas's gift was a book of poetry they both loved.

There were two gifts left. She opened the first, a red velvet box, and nearly dropped it. Inside lay a delicate diamond bracelet, glinting under the light. She picked up the card, dread settling in her chest as she read the note:

"Dear Nyx,
I hope you like this bracelet. I thought it would suit you well.
Love, Cullen B."

Her heart sank. In the pureblood world, jewelry was a token of serious intent, practically an engagement promise. If Cullen had given this to her, it meant he'd spoken to her father. She knew she'd be expected to wear it, and she could only hope something would stop the understanding from being finalized.

With a sigh, she turned to the last gift-a black box with silver initials, "T.M.R." She rolled her eyes; only Tom would charm his initials onto a box. She opened it with a small, anxious smile-and froze. Inside was a ring, not just any ring but Tom's ring. She remembered their conversation about it as if it were yesterday.

Flashback

One November Sunday, Nyx and Tom had stayed back in the Slytherin common room. As they talked, her eyes drifted to his hand, where two silver rings gleamed. She reached out, touching one lightly, admiring its craftsmanship.

"That's beautiful," she murmured, looking up at him. Tom didn't reply, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her blush. Nyx could sense there was something more between them, an unspoken bond neither could name, but both felt deeply.

She returned to the present, clutching the ring. Tom knew exactly what jewelry meant among purebloods. By giving it to her, he'd done so deliberately. Her heart beat faster as she slipped it onto her finger, knowing his name was engraved on the inside, his initials barely visible on the outside. Tom was declaring something-staking a claim she wasn't sure she even understood yet, but she knew it was real.

Little did she know, that was exactly his intention.