The Price of Gold | tom riddle

Chapter 29 - Christmas Pt.1

It was Christmas morning. Tom had rushed Ostara home from the Kingdom yesterday in quite a frantic state. Yet despite her constant pestering, he never told her why.

When she returned, she found Isidore's owl, Eli, still in her room - She also found all of her holiday study notes ripped to shreds by the angry owl. But nevertheless, she wrote back to Isidore, assuring him that his and his sister's company were warmly welcomed at their Christmas dinner.

A knock came from outside her bedroom door. "Come in," she called.

"Merry Christmas." It was Tom. "What time is Rosier arriving?" he asked.

"In about an hour, why?" she responded.

"No reason. Just curious." His body was resting against her doorway in a manner that was too relaxed for Ostara's liking. Tom almost looked a little too comfortable in her home.

"You're acting very strangely," she muttered.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's like you're high on liquid luck or something. Oh! Speaking of liquid luck," she jumped from her vanity table, "how hard is it to brew? I wouldn't mind having some of it around."

Tom scoffed. "Are you mental? Not even Rosier could pull that one off."

She sighed. "I wanted it for my exams though."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Maybe instead of following Isidore around like a bad smell, you could spend some time studying."

"Did you really just compare me to a bad smell?" She scrunched her nose.

"Well, I suppose you do smell rather nice. A light cherry fragrance." He smirked.

Ostara gave him a side-eyed glance as she brushed her hair in the mirror. "Speaking of Rosier, you must help him."

"There's nothing I can do Ostara." His voice was sharp. It was almost like a warning for her not to push any further.

"Surely there's something in all those dark magic books you read. Something like-"

"No." He cut her off. "You do realise, anyone who meddles with Isidore's curse risks the wrath of the demon that cursed him in the first place. You cannot meddle with someone's fate, Ostara."

"Well, if you won't. I will."

"You will do no such thing!" he snapped, as he walked towards Ostara and clasped her by her neck. His grip was not painful, but it was alarming tight. "If I hear you've done anything about Rosier's curse I will lock you in a tower until your only friends are the moths that come and go through the door cracks. Do you hear me?" He exhaled through his nose.

She gulped, feeling the growing pressure in her throat when she swallowed against his grip. She gave a small nod.

He released her. "Good." He took the hairbrush from her hand and pulled her hair behind her. He began to brush it, looking at her through the mirror.

She swallowed, trying to erase the distress that was seeping off of her expression. "Does Isidore's sister know of his condition?" she asked, an essence of fear still lingering in her voice.

Tom continued to brush. "Her name's Gwendolyn. As far as I'm aware, no. But please no more talk of this."

Star reached up and reclaimed the brush from Tom's hand. Placing down on the vanity. "Why'd you get so angry? You hurt me." She stared into his eyes through the mirror.

Tom swerved his head near her right ear. "Why don't you pay a visit to Mrs Arya's greenhouse and steal some flowers for tonight?" He gave a menacing grin. "We can multiply them so she will see them decorating your house from a mile away."