Promised - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 10 - Mors Grano ★

He gave you a look as if to say he didn't know what you meant.

"Elsie," you explained. "Your uncle will lift her curse completely then. Or so I hope at least."

Morfin had to, didn't he? It was part of the pact after all. Tom and you would get married so that they would free your sister. As much as you wanted to believe that the Gaunts were trustworthy, there had been a nasty sting in your stomach ever since the engagement. Would they really give up, even when they had won? They wouldn't be able to control you anymore afterwards, or Tom, or anyone but themselves. Marvolo's filthy grin appeared in your head. Would he ever give it a rest?

"He will free her, won't he?" you asked.

Tom looked into your eyes for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Well, it's what they agreed on."

"But?"

"But," he went on, "You've seen how they are."

An invisible weight seemed to pull on your limbs and the sting in your stomach got more intense.

"They'll never let go," you sighed. "But how-"

Tom shook his head and exhaled slowly. "I have to show you something."

He gave you the Potions book and opened it at the page where he had put his finger before. "I thought you'd come across it on your own, but as I noticed you wouldn't... Just see for yourself."

You stared at him for a moment, wondering what Morfin's book had to do with anything, before looking down at it. Tom pointed at a recipe, written in scrawled handwriting:

Mors Grano or The Dust Of Slow Death
The dust is used to be scattered over an item and will cling to the first person that touches it.
Vanishes the second the victim comes in contact, which makes it very hard to be detected and cured.
Victims will suffer from a distinctively harsh cough, as well as pain and flu-like symptoms, which will worsen each day, until they become fatal. Average time until death is around three weeks after the first encounter with Mors Grano. In most cases, the victim will lose their life before the appropriate antidote can be given.

You didn't bother to read the list of ingredients, your hands shaking too much to make out a word. You had heard of Mors Grano before. Professor Binns had mentioned it in History of Magic when you had learned about the Passing of Men in 1650. Hundreds of witches had poisoned their abusive husbands with it when the dust had been invented. It had taken years to find out what had caused such an increased number of deaths, all of them male wizards. The potion and most of its ingredients had been banned, and no cases had been reported since.

Until now. Suddenly it all made sense. The Gaunts had sent the letter and covered it in Mors Grano. They had known all along how to cure Elsie and had waited patiently, days and weeks, letting your sister suffer until Father had contacted them. No wonder the owl had given her the letter, even though it was addressed to Father. They had specifically chosen her. A ten-year-old, innocent, little girl.

Nausea hit you like a brick, coupled with the immediate need to punch something as your stomach twisted and turned in ways you had never felt before. A thin layer of sweat had formed on your forehead and your hands were still shaking.

"They..." you whispered. "And you knew?"

Tom swallowed thickly. "I didn't at first. But then I came across it when Morfin prepared the poison."

"And you never told me?" you asked, your voice rising and threatening to break as you tried to get up.

"Let me explain," Tom said and grabbed your hand. "Sit down."