A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 83: Appearances

Tom hadn't mentioned him again. Neither had Lucius. Not even Walburga, who loved a scandal.

Which meant it was done.

No spectacle. No public execution.

Just a quiet removal. A boy in a cold cell, walked down some corridor and never seen again.

She could see it in her mind—so easily it sickened her. The angle of his shoulders. The silence of it. The way he probably didn't beg.

She wondered if he thought of Connor at the end. If he regretted the message. If he believed she would deliver it.

She would. She wanted to. But even now, sitting in a carriage bathed in sunlight, she didn't know how. Didn't know when.

Didn't know if she'd be allowed to carry a memory like that through to the other side.

He deserved better than her. But he didn't have anyone else.

So much for an easier break.

It had started with dresses and parties and gold-plated place cards.

It ended, as always, in blood.

The carriage slowed as the train station appeared on the horizon—marble columns, a glinting roof, the wizarding entrance already guarded by familiars in grey. The train wasn't in yet, but the platform was beginning to fill with chatter.

Tom shifted beside her, drawing his glove tight at the wrist. "You were magnificent last night."

She didn't answer.

"I wasn't sure how you'd handle it," he went on, conversational. "That kind of pressure. That kind of theatre. But you were poised. Ruthless. Radiant."

She turned her head slightly. "You didn't think I was capable?"

He smiled. "Oh, I've always known you were capable. I just didn't know if you'd admit it."

She said nothing.

Outside, a bird called once—sweet and piercing.

Tom leaned closer, voice lower now. "They're beginning to fear you, you know. Especially Mulciber. Even Lucius."

"Good."

His hand slid over hers. Warm. Too warm.

"You should feel proud," he said. "You've earned that."

She looked down at their hands. At the rings. Matching. Glinting like teeth.

"I don't feel anything," she said.

Tom laughed, quiet and delighted. "Liar."

The carriage slowed to a halt.

A house elf opened the door.

The sun hit her face like a slap.

She didn't move.

Just sat there for a second longer, letting the heat sink into her skin. Letting it remind her she was still here. Still breathing. Still pretending.

Then she stepped out onto the platform like a woman walking into a dream she couldn't wake from.

***

They waited just past the warded side entrance, Remus fiddling with the clasp on his bag, Sirius smoking despite the posted warnings. The spell kept the smoke contained around his shoulders, thin and slow, like a fog that didn't want to leave him.

No one spoke for a while.

James kept staring at the far end of the platform, where the train would pull in soon. He could hear distant sounds now—the hum of metal, the clang of old brakes. Students arriving through the fireplaces inside the station. Parents bustling about, hugging too tight, checking collars, handing over forgotten gloves.