Ethereal Catastrophe | Tom Riddle

chapter nineteen

She turned the ladle in the cauldron, the steam coming from the liquidised wolfsbane danced through the air into her nose making her feel nauseous. It was a transparent liquid with a slight yellow hue and it fizzed like champagne.

Perfect.

She dipped her tongue into the spoon, making sure the liquid didn't drip onto her red lips.

It was pungent, it made your tastebuds turn. Much like a strong musty perfume. It had to be perfect. All Asteria's potions were perfect.

Her dress felt heavy on her. The corset suffocated her like barbed wire around your waist. She picked at the sides of her nails, watching the clock tick.

Tick.

Tick.

She sprinted to her window painted with snow. The handle was cold on her hand. She opened it and a gust of snowflakes flew in, tickling her face. It was a fresh, crisp air that her lungs much needed. She took a deep breath. Another one.

Tick.

Tick.

She levitated the cauldron off of the portable heater she had stolen from her potions classroom, draining the contents into a small vial. She watched as the bubbles floated to the top of the container like the froth of butterbeer. Whatever contents Mulciber decided to drink, it would blend perfectly.

She looked at the clock. It was two minutes to six. Two minutes and she would be shackled with that gorgeous ring. Her eye caught the silver dagger on her bedside table, now decorated with delicate snowflakes. She traced the snakes on the hilt, the metal was freezing on her finger.

Perhaps I could stab Tom with it? she thought.

She placed it into the draw and cast about ten intricately designed spells to stop curious Ravenclaws or even Slytherins snooping. The odour of wolfsbane still lingered in the air so she sprayed a golden perfume she stole when she snuck into muggle London last Christmas.

Her mouth felt dry with a bad taste on her tongue from the potion. She checked herself in the mirror. She looked beautifully constructed. Thick layers of foundation to conceal her dark circles. Glimmers of golden powder pressed onto her cheekbones. And her lips the colour of death. A vibrant beating heart begging to be admired.

A knock made her body jitter.

Abraxas.

The ring.

Marriage.

No freedom.

She took a deep breath and waved a concealment charm on the cauldron. The freezing air soothed her aching body. She was more than this.

She plastered a smile onto her lips as she opened the door, carefully, not too wild, a Malfoy woman would never do such things.

You need to play the part well.

"You look..." Abraxas breathed as he admired her, his blue eyes floating along her silhouette.

"Lost for words, Malfoy?" Asteria's smile widened.

He stepped into her dorm, his suit was pristine. No fibre out of place. His lips quirked up so his dimples appeared, "You never fail to leave me speechless, my love."

She picked at a non-existent piece of lint on his shoulder, "Only for you." A lie but Abraxas liked having what he thought nobody else had. The shiniest trophy in the box. And if she was to ask something of him that could potentially rip apart his reputation, she needed to be 'his' for at least a little while.