A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 2: Moves and Countermoves

Tom leaned over to Anastasia, his voice low and deliberate, "You surprise me, Anastasia. I expected protest, indignation. Yet here you are, calm and composed. As I recall, you've always known your place in this world."

Her gaze didn't waver. "Of course," she replied evenly. "It was drilled into me from the moment I could walk. This is my duty, is it not? To serve the interests of the family. To ensure its survival."

"And you do so with such grace," Tom remarked, his tone almost mocking. "One might think you'd relish the opportunity to rise above the mediocrity of others."

"Rise above?" she repeated, a faint edge creeping into her voice. "I see. Is that what this is, then? A partnership? Or simply another one of your... acquisitions?"

The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "You've learned to sharpen your tongue, I see. It suits you."

"Then let us toast," Orion said, raising his goblet, his tone brisk and final. "To a union that will strengthen the noble houses of Gaunt and Black."

Anastasia raised her glass, her movements graceful, her mask flawless. She met Tom's gaze over the rim of the goblet and saw the approval there, the satisfaction of a man who had gotten exactly what he wanted.

The wine was bitter on her tongue, but she swallowed it without flinching.

***

Once the dinner reached it's conclusion, Anastasia excused herself and hurried back into her room, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She was to marry Tom Riddle. There was a magnetism between them that was undeniable, but it was laced with a primal fear she could never quite shake. His eyes, once simply captivating, now held a promise of control and dominance that sent chills down her spine. He spoke to her with a familiarity that bordered on possessiveness, making it clear that he saw her as part of his grand design.

Despite her reservations, there was a part of her that was still drawn to his power, to the sense of being seen and valued by someone so formidable. He had a way of making her feel both special and utterly insignificant, a duality that left her constantly off-balance. Anastasia knew that marrying Tom Riddle would mean binding herself to a man whose ambition knew no bounds, a man who saw her as both a prized possession and a strategic asset.

When she entered her room, still lost in thoughts, the door closed softly behind her. She turned, startled, to find Tom standing there, his hand still on the door handle, having turned the lock with a deliberate motion. The click of the lock echoed ominously in the room, a clear indication that this was a conversation he intended to have without interruptions.

"Quite the stunt you pulled with Sirius last week," he said, his voice smooth, his tone almost conversational.

Anastasia froze, her pulse quickening despite herself. But years of practice allowed her to recover, her face sliding into the same mask of composure she had worn all evening. "Words travel fast," she replied coolly.

"They always do," Tom said, taking a slow step into the room. "And Orion and Walburga certainly wasted no time, didn't they? Organising this little arrangement between us so quickly. Quite the effort to save face."

Anastasia inclined her head, masking her unease with a faint smile. "They are nothing if not efficient."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and unnerving as he stepped further into the room. "I can't say I'm surprised. Desperation always breeds quick decisions. But this particular decision," he gestured loosely between them, "was inevitable, don't you think?"

"Inevitable," she repeated, her voice carrying a faint note of irony. She moved toward her desk, seeking distance, though she knew it wouldn't deter him. "Inevitable is an interesting way of describing being auctioned off."