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Chapter 16 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡
I awoke the next morning with a dull throb in my head, the firewhisky's aftereffects lingering, but it was the memories of last night that made my stomach churn. I sat up slowly, the events replaying in my mind— from Malfoy's smug face, Tom's piercing eyes, and...
...to how can you be so ethereal yet so inferal-—the words I'd foolishly whispered to him.
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the shame burning through me.
I buried my face in my hands, trying to erase the memory, but it was no use. I remembered everything—every word, every touch.
How could I have been so reckless? So utterly foolish and vulnerable when I had been in a den of serpents? Why'd I let myself be enchanted by tom?
My pulse quickened as I recalled the way Tom had looked at me, his mask slipping for just a moment. And then there was Malfoy, his teasing smirk, and that last look Tom had given me—one that still made my heart pound in my chest.
I looked over at the window across the four-poster, and immediately, I was reminded of the one in my room back at the orphanage.
A bitter smile curled up on my lips as I pushed the memory away.
It was a past I didn't want to acknowledge.
The only right thing to do about it was to bury it deep, to push it as far away as possible to push it away.
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus on the present, on the here and now. Pushing the unwanted memories back into the dark corners of my mind.
The morning light was harsh as it filtered through the curtains, cutting through the haze that clung to my thoughts
The remnants of last night lingered in my mind like smoke, and I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in my chest. The way I had exposed myself, the many things I'd uttered in my drunked state made me cringe.
With the determination of starting the day a new, I forced myself out of bed. I couldn't hide in my dormitory forever, no matter how tempting it was. I needed to face the day, even if the thought of running into Tom made my stomach twist.
As I push myself out of bed, the lingering effects of last night's whiskey threaten to pull me back down.
My head spins for a moment, the room tilting dangerously, but I force myself to steady. There would be no Malfoy or anyone else to catch me if I fell this time, and the last thing I needed was to bruise myself, adding to the headache already coursing through my veins.
My eyes dart around the dormitory, searching for Minerva, only to find her bed already made, her four-poster neatly tidied up.
A pang of dread sweeps through me as my mind races with reasons for her sudden absence.
Did I disappoint her? Was she upset with me for being so careless, for getting drunk despite her warnings to stay on guard? The thought of her disapproval makes me wince.
I hurriedly dress and make my way to the Great Hall, the dread gnawing at me with every step.
The moment I enter, the rich scents of bacon, eggs, freshly baked bread, and pumpkin juice fill the air, reminding me of just how hungry I am.
My stomach growls, a dull ache beneath the headache, but I push it aside as my eyes land on Minerva, sitting in her usual spot at the Gryffindor table, with Hagrid across from her. They seem deep in conversation, their expressions serious, and I can't shake the feeling that it's about me.
Taking a deep breath, I walk over to them. The moment they see me, their faces soften, and both Minerva and Hagrid wrap me in a tight hug, almost squeezing the breath out of me.
The panic that had been gnawing at me immediately vanished as I saw how genuinely concerned they were. Minerva's eyes, usually sharp with determination, now held a softness that made my guilt intensify.
Minerva, ever the loyal friend, had been the one to sneak me into our dormitory after Malfoy had dropped me off. She confesses that she had been waiting anxiously in the hallway, not willing to leave until she knew I was safe. The guilt tightens in my chest, knowing I put her through that. I take a seat beside them, the warmth of their concern wrapping around me like a blanket.
"Are you feeling okay now? You still look a bit pale," Minerva's voice was low, tinged with concern. She was always the practical one, but today, that practicality was wrapped in worry. "I left you in the dorm because I thought some sleep would help. I even told Professor Dippet you were unwell to get you a permit of absence."
I offered a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Minerva. I'm sorry I put you in that position."
She shook her head, brushing it off, but her eyes betrayed her concern. "It's the least I could do. But seriously, how on earth did you end up drunk?"
I hesitated, fragments of last night flashing in my mind like broken glass. "Malfoy... he mocked me, pushed all the right buttons. I didn't want to be underestimated, so... I let myself go and drank more than I should have."
"Yeh should've known better than ter let Malfoy get under yer skin like that," Hagrid rumbled, his tone a mix of concern and mild frustration. "Let me guess, yeh drank more than yeh could handle, tryin' ter prove yer not one ter be underestimated? Especially when it was yer first time with firewhisky?"
"Yeah, I should've known better," I admitted, unable to meet Hagrid's gaze. "But I didn't want Malfoy thinking I was weak. It was a mistake, but... I think there's more to it."
Minerva leaned in, her expression serious and expectant. "What do you mean?"
I took a deep breath, the weight of my suspicions heavy on my chest. "I think Malfoy might be working with Tom. He's not as open about it as the others, but there's something there. Still, it doesn't add up. If his goal was to get me in trouble or use me, why bother escorting me back to the dorm? He could've left me wandering the halls, let a professor find me, and get me expelled."
Minerva frowned, lost in thought. "Exactly. If Malfoy really wanted you out of the way, that would've been the perfect opportunity. So why go through the trouble of taking you back?"
"I don't know," I admitted, frustration creeping into my voice. "It doesn't make sense."
There was a pause, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air. I still hadn't told them it was Tom who had insisted on it. I was only sharing half of the story—not lying, exactly, but holding back the full truth until I could figure it out myself.
"But it doesn't change the fact that I need to be more careful," I added, trying to sound resolved. "I should've listened to you, Minerva."
Minerva's tone softened, but there was still a hint of reprimand. "You need to stop being so stubborn and start taking care of yourself. We can't afford to lose you—not to their schemes, and definitely not to your own recklessness."
Hagrid nodded in agreement, his deep voice steady and reassuring. "Yer too important ter us, an' ter yerself. Don't let 'em drag ya down."
I nodded, feeling the weight of their concern settle on me. "I'll be more careful, I promise."
The words felt heavy on my tongue, but I meant them. I couldn't afford any more mistakes—not when the stakes were this high
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As we finished our breakfast, the Hall slowly filled with students, and the noise level rose, breaking the earlier quiet atmosphere in the grear hall.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the calm before the storm, that something was brewing, something dark and dangerous that would soon come to light.
Just as we were about to leave I spotted Tom entering the Hall. Our eyes met across the room, and for a moment, everything else faded away.
He didn't smile, didn't acknowledge me beyond that brief glance, but it was enough to set my heart racing. As if everything that had happened last night was dream.
I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as the memory of what I'd said to him last night
–how can you be so ethereal yet so infernal–
flashed through my mind.
The embarrassment was almost unbearable. I knew I should avoid him, keep my distance, but something told me that would be easier said than done. And as we left the Great Hall, Minerva chatting about our first class, I couldn't help but feel that the real test was yet to come.
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After attending all the classes, I was relieved that the day was winding down without any unwelcome encounters with Malfoy or Tom. I just wanted to collapse onto my bed and sleep off my headache or chat with Minerva and Hagrid to ease my frustrations and stress.
But fate had other plans.
As I rounded a corner in the late afternoon heading to the common room.The corridor was bathed in the soft light filtering through tall windows, casting long shadows on the stone floor. The warmth of the sun seemed to do little to soothe the chill of the stone walls.
I collided with a solid form, jolted from my thoughts. Looking up, I found Malfoy standing before me, his smirk as sharp as ever,with his arrogance plastered on his expression.
"Watch where you're going," he drawled, his voice laced with mock politeness. "Wouldn't want you falling onto me again, would we? I assume you had enough of that sort of thing last night."
The corridor, with its fading light and quiet stillness, suddenly seemed much narrower. Malfoy's presence loomed over me, he seemed unyielding as he blocked my way.
When I tried to sidestep him, he moved closer, closing the distance until my back was pressed against the cold, rough stone wall. The chill of it crept through my robes, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body.
His smirk widened as he leaned in, his breath brushing against my cheek. There was an undeniable weight in the air between us, a silent challenge.
Every inch of space he claimed made it harder for me to ignore how close he was, how his every move seemed to corner me further.
His eyes gleamed with amusement, as if he was waiting for me to react, to show any sign of weakness.
But I refused to give him the satisfaction, even as my heart pounded in my chest.
Anxiety had taken a grip of me,knotting a suffocating feeling in my chest as Fear gnawed at my mind, making it impossible to think straight.
It wasn't just about Malfoy's presence; it was the uncertainty of what he might do next, knowing that he could be working with Tom.
The thought sent a chill down my spine, making it hard to steady my breathing.
Malfoy's eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "So,How do you feel about your grand performance last night? you made quite the spectacle of yourself. Quite a feat for someone so eager to prove their strength."
I glared at him, my anger flaring. "Why do you even care about what happened last night? You're just here to mock me, aren't you?"
Malfoy's smirk widened as he leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek. "Oh, it's not just about mocking you. It's entertaining to watch you squirm. It's fascinating to see someone so determined to rise above their circumstances only to stumble back only by a bit of firewhisky."
His closeness, combined with the intensity of his gaze, made it feel as though the corridor had shrunk around us. The late afternoon light, once warm and inviting, now seemed distant, its warmth overshadowed by the chill of Malfoy's presence.
"I suppose you think you're clever, mudblood," Malfoy continued, his voice laced with venomous sarcasm. "But you really should be more aware of your surroundings. There are those who would've taken great pleasure in watching you suffer last night. So, maybe you should be a bit more grateful to me, little lion. If it weren't for me and Riddle, you'd have found yourself in far worse trouble."
His words were a taunt, hitting me like a slap across the face. The last thing I wanted was to feel indebted to them—especially not to Tom.
I wanted to snap back, to hurl a nasty retort in Malfoy's direction, but I held back. This wasn't the best moment to provoke him, not with him cornering me against the wall.
Malfoy's gaze was piercing, and as he straightened up, he took a step back, his smirk never faltering."And if you're thinking Riddle's going to come running to your rescue everytime, don't hold your breath,little lion. He's probably too busy trying to figure out how one can be both ethereal and infernal. Quite the puzzle, I imagine."
He gave me a mocking smile and salute, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "But don't worry, you're still my favorite target. Keep giving me reasons to laugh."
With a final, smirking glance, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls. As I watched him go, a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement churned inside me.
Malfoy's taunts stung, but his words about Tom lingered, weaving threads of doubt and intrigue into the already tangled web of my relation with him.
Did Tom really try to protect me? Or was he just playing the part, acting out his perfect duties?
The last time I checked, Tom despised me down to his very core. But now, with my muddled memory from last night—thanks to my inconsiderate, drunkard self—I can't even begin to piece it together.
This had to be the final stroke in this chaotic mess.