ᑭETᖇIᑕᕼOᖇ

Chapter Five

Swish, glide, stipple, such clean and precise strokes were dauntingly languid yet perfectly beautiful. A masterpiece was in the process of being made, the thin layer of oil paint turning the whole canvas a gorgeous carbon black that faded into a hale navy.

Slowly, it became more and more clear. A dark night sky had formed filled with stormy clouds, shadows of mountains and tall trees littered all around whilst the tiniest twinkle of the stars could be made out if you so happened to be the one painting them.

A week had passed, one where Artemisia spent all of her time going to classes, painting, and sneaking off with Lucinda to the kitchens every other night for some tea and biscuits with the house elves. (A particularly small and hairy one, rightfully named Harry, had a huge crush on Lucinda. In return, they were always gifted small treats and, every once in a while, some sort of apparent dust bunny that could magically gift you compliments through its sewn mouth.)

Every moment spent listening to her teacher's drone on and being forced to sit by him was agony. While she tried her best to completely ignore the wizard, Riddle had other plans. He never ceased his constant scowl, a glare so icy she'd shiver every single time. Whether it was because he was intimidating or so stunningly attractive, she didn't know.

Tom, still outraged, kept thinking about how easily she had penetrated his memories. While he had to put in a certain amount of effort, it seemed like Artemisia merely had to push a little before his walls came crumbling down like a pumpkin pasty dipped in milk for much too long.

He couldn't understand how a witch with so little importance could perform some of the best Legilimency magic he had ever witnessed, but alas it was a question for another time. He knew that as long as he continued to be cold and distant, she'd never tell him her secrets.

And he had a feeling that secrets, specifically hers, were more valuable than any galleons he could ever receive.

Clenching and unclenching his jaw, the frown slowly morphed into an awkward smile - clearly ingenuine as he turned towards the girl with so much hatred towards him. "I'm sorry." The witch faced him with a look of pure confusion. Whether it was because she didn't hear him or it was too baffling to imagine him apologizing was a mystery. With a huff, he straightened his collar and leaned closer. He couldn't have anyone hearing them, could he? "I said I'm sorry.. my actions were nowhere near respectable." He looked pained at the words. Yet somehow, he still found a way to sound utterly bored.

She finished writing the last sentence for her Defense Against The Dark Arts report and got up to show Professor Merrythought before she too spoke. "I suppose I should also apologize-" His microscopic look of shock made her pause, "Since I did the same thing. You held your own better than I thought you would, Riddle." She moved a couple of inches closer - her hair tickling his neck as she whispered, "And I wasn't mad with what I saw, either. Not at all..."

His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to recall all of the memories she had witnessed. In the moment, it wasn't very easy to keep track of what she was doing when all of his attention was on getting her out. 

He retraced his imaginary steps and remembered her confusion at the memory when he took Amy and Dennis up to the cliff and how disgruntled she was when she witnessed Dennis's bunny being hung. He realized then that she must have an affinity for animals but seeing as that was most definitely not what she was speaking of, he moved on.

Finally, he came to the last few seconds. Tom could feel how much he struggled just to push her out of his memory bank. It was like pushing a large boulder up a never-ending mountain - very Sisyphus-like in its nature. After collecting himself he focused on what he was blocking her from. Just what he didn't want her to see.