A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 10: First Steps

Chapter 10: First Steps

The platform was alive with the sound of students and parents, the screech of the Hogwarts Express punctuating the chatter and laughter of those reuniting after the spring break. Luggage trunks were being loaded, and owls hooted impatiently from their cages as the familiar chaos of departure filled the air.

Anastasia Gaunt stood at the edge of it all, her posture poised, her face a perfect mask of serenity. Beside her, Tom Riddle exuded his usual commanding presence, his sharp suit a stark contrast to the more casual wizarding robes around him. The sight of them together was enough to draw the occasional glance, though no one dared to linger for long. Tom's gaze alone was enough to scatter any onlookers.

James Potter and Sirius Black stood on the opposite side of the platform, their presence largely unnoticed in the bustle. Sirius was leaning casually against a post, his face a careful mix of disinterest and tension, while James stood beside him, his hazel eyes fixed on Anastasia and Tom.

"Bloody hell," James muttered under his breath, his voice laced with disbelief. "Would you look at that?"

Sirius followed his gaze, his own expression tightening. Across the platform, Tom had stepped closer to Anastasia, his hands resting on her shoulders as he leaned down to embrace her. At first, Anastasia stiffened, the barest hint of hesitation flashing across her features. But then, after what seemed like an eternity, she allowed herself to relax into the embrace, her arms circling him loosely.

Tom's lips brushed against her neck, a soft, deliberate movement that made James's stomach churn. He whispered something inaudible, his smirk widening before he pulled her into a deep, lingering kiss. Anastasia didn't resist, her face unreadable as she allowed the kiss to linger just long enough to be convincing.

"Bloody good actress," Sirius muttered, his voice low and tinged with something James couldn't quite place.

James's brow furrowed, his confusion only deepening. The last time he had seen Anastasia and Tom together, it had been anything but affectionate. His mind replayed the scene in the library—the slap, the curses, the cold cruelty of Tom's words as Anastasia crumpled to the floor. And now this? He shook his head, his voice sharp as he muttered, "What if he's Obliviated her? Made her forget it all."

"Don't even joke about that," Sirius snapped, his voice cutting through the noise of the platform. His grey eyes were hard as he turned to James, his jaw tight. "You don't know what you're talking about."

James raised his hands defensively, though his gaze remained fixed on Anastasia. "I'm just saying," he said, his voice quieter now. "How else do you explain that?" He gestured toward the scene across the platform, where Tom was now smoothing a strand of hair behind Anastasia's ear, his smirk still firmly in place.

Sirius's lips pressed into a thin line, his expression dark. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice raw with frustration. "But that doesn't mean she's forgotten. And it doesn't mean she's okay."

James tore his gaze away from Anastasia long enough to glance at Sirius. "Then why? Why would she—"

"Because she has to," Sirius said simply, his voice heavy with something James couldn't quite place. "Because if she doesn't, he'll kill her. Or worse."

The weight of Sirius's words settled over them, heavy and suffocating. James felt a sick twist in his stomach as he looked back at Anastasia, who was now stepping away from Tom, her hand brushing against his arm in a gesture that seemed almost natural. But James knew better. He had seen her fire, her defiance, and he had seen it extinguished. This wasn't natural. This was survival.