The Price of Gold | tom riddle

Chapter 22 - A Deadly Date

Ostara washed her face with warm water, making sure to clean any traces of sleep and makeup from around her eyes.

She wrapped her silk white robe around her and headed down stairs to the common room.

There he was, gazing at himself in an old mirror, removing his tie from his dress shirt.

"You were out late," Ostara snarled from the top of the staircase.

"I did not realise I had a curfew, mother," he retorted, turning around from the mirror to face her.

"Is this the part where I remind you that this school does in fact have a curfew but you use the argument that you're head boy?" She raised an exhausted eyebrow as she bounced down the staircase. "Because I'm not doing that."

"Pity," he frowned, "that's my favourite line."

"Oh I'm quite aware," she mocked.

"So I gathered the business with Isidore is all fine? You managed well on your own last night?" he asked.

"No thanks to you."

He scoffed up at the ceiling.

"He is not well Tom. I fear he doesn't have long left before the change is permanent."

"Tell me something I don't already know, Stiltskin." He raised him arm and began to remove his cuff links. He struggled with one hand, although tried to mask it by turning away from Ostara.

"Here." She stepped closer to him.

"I'm fine!" he hissed.

"You're clearly not." She gripped his arm and pulled it toward her. Her fingers curled around the silver circles. He watched her as her eyes remained focus on the tedious links.

"He needs you to help him. That's why he confided in you," she said so softly it was almost a whisper.

"There's not a wizard alive who could undo that curse, Stiltskin."

With her hands so close to his, she felt his fingers slightly brush over the top of her hand.

She paused for a brief moment, swallowing, but resumed after assuming the touch was an accident.

"You have to at least try."

His nose scrunched up, slightly. His breathing deepened for a moment. "Your perfume," he breathed out, staring into her glowing eyes.

"Roses," she cut him off. "A gift from Linius." Her gaze quickly broke his.

"Roses," he repeated, inhaling her smell again.

As the small silver piece unclamped, she felt the tips of his fingers brush over her hand once more, before he turned away from her.

His touch lingered on her skin. It always did. No matter the amount of soap she used, Tom Riddle's traces always left their mark.

"I should shower," he breathed out, breaking the silence. "Before the other students start to wake."

"As should I. I've been travelling through the forest all night."

He looked her up and down in her white gown and robe. His stare lingering a few seconds longer on the opening of her robe than it should - paralleling the way she looked at him last night.

"Thank you, Ostara." He collected his tie and walked up the stairs, perhaps a little swifter than she would have expected him to move.

His touch still sparkled on her skin.

____

The sun was setting on a Saturday night as Ostara made her way down to the great hall for dinner.