The Dawn of Darkness || T. Riddle

Chapter 22: Sand and Stars

Chapter 22: Sand and Stars

Everyone was fine. Alden had summoned a medic to Malfoy Manor after Tom left with Estela, and the meeting room had turned into something of a hospital or a recovery room for those who had been injured in the attack. No questions were asked and no word of the incident was to be spoken, thanks to a few galleons from Malfoy's family vault at Gringotts.

Everyone who had been present had sustained some type of injury. Mostly everybody had suffered minor cuts from the shattered glass, and Nott even sustained a substantial blow to the head, but everyone who had been in that room had been quiet since they came to their senses. It was like a tiny light inside of them had gone out. A shard of their happiness carved away from blood and skin. That was the horrible effect dementors had on you. But fortunately, the medics had brought enough pick-me-up tonics to go round.

The corridor was cold as Alden made his way down a set of stairs, and his breath rose up before him like mist. As he reached the bottom of the stairwell, instead of turning left as he usually did to go to his potions chamber, he went right. And as he walked, the faint sounds of shuffling and clanking could be heard from the blackness.

The corridor was narrow and dark, the tip of his wand a bright silver lighting his way. He passed cell after cell until he stopped before the only occupied one. And as he peered through the metal bars, his eyes landed on the two figures slumped on the hard floor beyond the rigid iron poles.

The cold, hard glare of Abraxas Malfoy met his own – now void of that usual sense of pride and conceit and filled with humiliation and rage. But Alden ignored him as he looked towards the smaller figure curled up by his side; frail and slight.

Cressida Semple, Malfoy's fiancée.

He fought back a frown. She didn't deserve to be in here – chained up and cold. It wasn't her fault Abraxas had forced her to flee the manor with him right before the attack.

He only did it to protect her. To protect them both.

In truth, Alden would have done the same thing.

"Let us out," Malfoy growled, his usually well-kept blond hair falling messily into his paler than usual face. And Alden noticed that his arm did not move from around the waist of his lover; as though he was holding her as tightly as he possibly could. As though he was trying to give her as much of his own strength as he could.

"Can't do that, I'm afraid." Alden said casually, smoothly, as though this was no more than a pleasant conversation. "I'm under Riddle's strict orders to keep you restrained here until he returns."

His lip curled into an ugly snarl. "This is my house! Mine! And I demand to be released!"

Alden casually placed a hand into his pocket, leaning against the cell bars with his free arm. "You're right, Malfoy. This is your house." He said calmly. "So perhaps you shouldn't have been such a coward and abandoned it and everyone under its roof when it was under attack."

Malfoy grumbled, lowering his gaze towards Cressida who hadn't moved a muscle since Alden arrived.

For someone usually so beautiful – usually so pristine and perfect like a china doll – she now looked worn and tattered; her shining blonde hair now tangled and unkempt, her pin straight posture now slouching and lazy.

"At least let Cress go," Abraxas said, his voice softening into something of a plea. "She's done nothing wrong."

Alden pursed his lips into half a pout. "You're right. She's done nothing wrong, and quite frankly she doesn't deserve to be here. But it's your fault she's here. And when Riddle returns it will be your fault if he shows her as little mercy as he'll show you."