Ethereal Catastrophe | Tom Riddle

chapter thirteen

TW: This chapter is quite dark. It deals with grief and how a certain person deals with it in a not so healthy way (blood/gore that people may find disturbing). So if you choose to skip this chapter you can message me on here and I can just give you an overview of significant parts that may be important in future chapters.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

The sky was a watercolour painting of pastel blues, pinks, purples and oranges. Blossoms of lilac and blushed petals lined the pool of viridian grass. Its feathered strands were like silky blades of ribbon beneath the two girls bodies as they rolled across the bed of emerald giggling as the clouds drifted through the sky like fluffy cotton rabbits.

Asteria could feel the buzz of the bee as it flew across her face, Walburga gasped in fear turning her head to see the gaze of awe painted onto her best friends features as she stilled upon the soft floor. Her eyes glimmering as they followed the bee's movements. The way it glided through the air with sheer agility and nestled into the brightest foxglove petal it could find. The fine, glittering pollen shimmered in the slow breeze as it sprinkled like faerie dust onto Walburga's nose making her sneeze.

"Bless you," Asteria whispered as if she was trying not to disturb the beauty around them. The subtle murmur of people noised from the distance, nearly sounded out by the trickling of the river a few meters away from where the girls laid.

Both of their frilly dresses were now stained with sage speckles of nature from the muddy floor. The two eight-year-olds snuck away from the summer solstice gala being held at the Selwyns estate. As Walburga looked down at the stains painted onto her white skirt she sighed and looked to Asteria- still looking entranced by their surroundings, "Mothers going to kill me."

Asteria jumped slightly at Walburga's voice as if she was completely focused on the sweet, song of the bird and the faint flutter of a butterflies wing. She breathed in the clean air, like a perfume of fresh-cut grass, spicy herbs and flourishes mellow rosebuds. The sun kissed her skin like a warm embrace, her freckles oozing from her face at its touch. She swallowed, glancing at the scuffs of muddy green on her skirt. "Likewise," was the only thing she could muster out of her throat as it grew tighter.

"I mean," Waburga's voice was weary, "we could try and clean it in the river." She rubbed on the stain, it only getting darker with each touch.

Asteria squinted at Walburga, "That's only going to make it worse, plus, we'll be wet-"

Then an idea flew into her mind like the bubbles she could see floating through the trees where most of the party was, along with the long white hair of her mother blowing through the breeze as she held a glass of cordial. And through those trees, she could see a certain platinum-haired Malfoy instructing boys his age on how to play a game. He had a twig that he obviously picked from the ground in his grasp, using it as if it was a real wand and threatening to curse his 'friends' if they stepped out of place.

Asteria leaned up and grasped Walburga's hands looking into her eyes with blooming elation. Her toothy smile and raised eyebrows told Walburga that Asteria had a plan to get them out of trouble. Merlin forbid two young aristocratic witches to get their dresses dirty of their own free will.  "What is it?" Walburga squeaked leaning closer with a similar smile upon her face.

"We'll blame it on that fool I'm expected to marry someday," Asteria whispered excitedly, turning to look behind her shoulder to see him playing.

"Abraxas Malfoy?" Walburga gasped, her fingers tightening on Asterias. "Asty, he'll kill us- truly kill us. Worse than our mothers will."