FROM EDEN | Mattheo Riddle

XIII. Dancing With The Devil

Violet has been sitting at her vanity for hours, watching her mother doll her up and remind her of the etiquettes a "proper lady" must follow.

"You better behave yourself tonight, Violet. There will be important guests at the ball and I will not have you dishonor our name," she sneered, harshly tugging on her dark ringlets with the hairbrush. Violet gazed at her mother's reflection, a stern expression on her face as she scrutinized her every feature in the mirror, making sure her offspring looked like the perfect pure-blood daughter, presented to the wizarding society as a debutante and a potential trophy wife. Obedient, demure, naïve. Just how they like it.

She resisted the urge to grit her teeth, opting to play the good daughter just for tonight. "Yes, mother."

A soft knock at her door broke the unspoken tension in the room and Violet let out a breath at the timely interruption. She did not want to spend another minute with her mother. "Come in."

Her house-elf, Tippy, timidly entered the room. Her small head cast downwards with an open wound making itself known on her droopy ears. "Mistress Violet, y-your dress is here," she said weakly, avoiding eye-contact with the woman behind her.

"I'll leave you to get dressed. Hurry up, Mr. Riddle will be here soon." Her mother rose from her seat, smoothing out the creases that formed on her skirt. Not bothering to spare her another glance as she swiftly left her room, scowling at Tippy before closing the door. Charming woman.

She offered a sympathetic smile to her house-elf, beckoning her to come close, her frail body limping towards her. "I'm sorry, Tippy, you don't deserve this," Violet sighed, knowing full well the punishment the lady of the house would cast upon their servants if they were to irk her. "I'll get you out of here soon," she waved her wand above Tippy's ear, the disfigured skin stitching itself together. Violet did not know when and how, but she was going to leave this wretched place with their house-elves. They will no longer fall victim to her family's mistreatment. Not her too, not anymore.

"Tippy is alright, Mistress Violet! Tippy is happy to serve you," the creature mustered a smile, eyes glassing with tears as she peered upwards at Violet. "Please allow Tippy to help Mistress get dressed."

"I would love that, Tippy."

Violet took one last look at herself in the mirror, drawing a deep breath. Her once unruly ringlets were pinned delicately into wavy curls, the green of her silk dress competing with the luster of the emeralds that hung from her neck, glinting under the light with a Slytherin's conceit. The softness of the charmeuse blanketing her skin and draping into an intricate knot at her waistline, only to fall like leaves at her feet.

She no longer felt like herself but rather a different person with similar features. Anxiety and insecurities whispering uncertainties in her ear. She forced a smile, "You can do this Violet, it's only a few hours then you can go home...."

She took her purse and quickly pecked the head of her cat before descending the staircase, crossing the great hall of their manor to enter the drawing-room. She was surprised to see her parents chatting merrily with Mattheo by the fireplace, a genuine chuckle leaving her father's mouth at the remark the younger man made.

"There you are darling, we were just chatting with Mattheo here," Reinhard Lestrange looks her over appraisingly, clapping a hand behind Mattheo's back. "You look lovely, my dear."

Mattheo takes in her appearance and visibly swallows, his eyes wide and unreadable. He composes himself, clearing his throat as he turned towards her father, "Right, we'll be going now Mr. Lestrange," he said, glancing at the clock, "I'm afraid we're quite late."