Antlia stood in the corner of the room, a champagne glass of sparkling grape juice in her hand. She swirled the pale liquid in the flute, watching the bubbles move up and down and up again. The room was filled with people, all manners of Purebloods mingling around. The fathers conversed among themselves, spreading their words of hate and fear. They congregated in the shadows, sleeves pulled down to hide their marks. Even among others like them, Death Eaters still feel compelled to hide in the darkness. Antlia was glad that not one of them approached her, her mind still apprehensive from the letter that her father had sent her. She was on edge, every motion around her making her breath catch in her throat.

The mothers mingled among each other, comparing rings and necklaces that weighed them down. Their necks were dripping with jewelry, false pleasantries oozing from every word that they spoke. Darkness hid beneath the surface of their perfect skin and perfect teeth. It went into every non-visible spot, clothing masking the malicious intentions.

The children dispersed, not daring to gather in groups of more than two. They were those that were flirty, girls batting eyelashes at boys with puffed up chests. Girls who liked girls and boys who liked boys didn't dare express how they really felt, smoothing their feelings down underneath a layer of fear. Antlia stayed in her corner, hoping to blend in with the walls. She didn't want to be approached, didn't want to be preyed upon by people consumed by darkness.
She was already contaminated, the seeds planted already in her soul, but it was up to her if they were given the nutrients. She didn't want them to be forced down her throat like sugar medicine.

"Antlia Avery," a woman called out, her voice and looks reminding Antlia of a crow. Her hair was jet-black and in a great quantity, flowing loose around her shoulders. Her nose was hooked and long, making all of her other features seem small in comparison. Her eyes were dark and beady, bloodshot from too much wine already. The dark red liquid in her glass sloshed around, threatening to spill over the sides and stain the cream carpet that they trod on. It left a film in a gentle curve on the glass, a clinging reminder of what was just there.

Mrs. Flint was a nasty woman, the kind that enjoyed watching others suffer. She truly believed every drop of poison that came spilling from her wine-stained lips. Her son was no better than a schoolyard bully, but in Mrs. Flint's eyes, he was a golden child who could do no wrong. He was friends with a distant cousin of Antlia's, an Avery in name only, and they had both already thrown their lot in with the Dark Lord.

"So," Mrs. Flint began, her eyes tracing their way down to Antlia's ring finger. It was bare, as all of her fingers were. No jewelry adorned them, no glittering diamonds that would signify that she was practically the property of a boy who was pretending to be a man. In Mrs. Flint's eyes, no ring meant that Antlia was fair game to be wed to the Flint heir.

Antlia sighed, her brain conjuring up the image of a perfect Pureblooded girl. She took a sip of her drink before pasting a smile onto her face, peeling her lips back. "Yes, Mrs. Flint?" She questioned, a fake tone of innocence in her voice. She bit back every expletive that she wanted to throw at the woman, her tongue keeping itself in check.

"How is school going for you, my dear?" Mrs. Flint asked, false sweetness coating every word that came out of her mouth. Antlia cringed inwardly at being called 'my dear,' the pet name out of place in the environment.

"I've got all O's," Antlia said. She picked up an hors d'oeuvre from a silver platter resting on a nearby table, a cheese and salami thing, and started to nibble on it delicately. Her teeth tore at the meat, a way to avoid speaking to the crow-woman before her.

"That's good," Mrs. Flint purred, her eyes calculating Antlia's face. The older woman was taking in her every imperfection, scoring her on beauty and brains. If she failed, then she would be free. If she passed, then a desolate future was ahead of her. But failing would bring its own punishment with it. Angry curses spewing out of Arcturus Avery's mouth, his twisted mind convincing him that harm was helping his daughter.

Antlia nodded, moving to turn away from Mrs. Flint. She gave her a tight smile, twisting her head away before a claw-like hand was digging into her shoulder.

"My dear," Mrs. Flint said, a ring appearing in between her fingers. She held it up, shoving it in Antlia's face. It dangled in front of the younger girl, as if Mrs. Flint wanted it to feel like an unattainable treasure. It was fool's gold, happiness fleeting away as soon as she would try to touch it. "Don't you want to be happy? Don't you want a husband who will take care of you?"

Antlia ground her teeth against each other, her hands tightening into fists while she hid them in between the folds of her dress. In and out, breath. Breathe, and don't let her get to you. Breathe, and think about better times.

"I want to be happy," Antlia said, purposefully avoiding the second question that Mrs. Flint had thrown at her. She didn't want to marry Everett Flint, she didn't want to be put into another cage. It would be pretty, it would be cushy, but it would be a lie. Lies only festered, and if she continued with the lie it would eventually consume her. Eventually she would snap, and her world would come crashing down around her. No, she didn't want that.

Mrs. Flint smiled, lips peeling back once more to reveal what should've been razor-sharp teeth. She had the bark of a wolf and the bite of a shark, a being whose bite really was the same as her bark. "Well, my dear, I know just the thing for you." Her grip on Antlia's arm tightened as she called out to her son, pulling the boy in question over.

Flint leered at Antlia, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes were pools of hatred and crudeness, his nose the same shape as his mother's. Antlia and Flint had history, a history of hatred. Flint constantly watched her, tattling to Mr. Avery at every chance that he got. Antlia gave him the cold shoulder whenever they were forced to socialize at school, but the parents didn't know that. Antlia was the stupid Slytherin Princess, she was given a silver crown from her last name. They didn't see behind her fake smiles and they didn't see the tightness that was stored in the hands hidden deep in her skirts. And Antlia intended to keep it that way.

"Mother," Flint said to his mother. He was polite, a rare occurrence, one that only happened once in a blue moon. "What is it that you want with me?" He tossed a glance over his shoulder at the group of boys that he had come from, mouthing words of patience at them. He didn't want to be there, and neither did Antlia.

For all of Flint's flaws, he already had a girlfriend, and he didn't want to get married to Antlia. Flint's girlfriend was a sweet girl, and Antlia didn't know what she saw in him. Flint seemed willing to put aside his blood supremacist ideals for his girlfriend, a Muggleborn, which Antlia had to hand to him. That took guts. Unfortunately, they both didn't have the guts to tell their parents that they didn't want to get married to each other. So they both had to keep living this lie.

"Baby, isn't Antlia pretty?" Mrs. Flint crooned, dragging a nail down Antlia's cheek. She dragged Flint closer to Antlia, pushing the two together.

Flint shifted on his feet, rocking back and forth on his heels. He jammed one hand into the pockets of his dress pants, the other rubbing the back of his neck. He was uncomfortable, Antlia along with him. "Uh, yes, I suppose so, Mother," he said.

Mrs. Flint frowned, dropping her hand from Antlia's face. "You have to give me more than that, baby. Don't you want to be happy? Antlia wants to be happy."

"Mother, can I get back to my friends? They are waiting for me," Flint said, gesturing to the group of boys. They looked unconcerned, but Antlia supposed that he was desperate for a way out.

Before Mrs. Flint could answer, a loud sound rang out through the room. It was a ding, resonating off of every surface. It bounced in Antlia's ears, a respite from Mrs. Flint's matchmaking attempts. Every single person in the room stiffened, their spines straightening. They knew what that sound meant.

It meant they were going into the shark's water, plunging in head first. It meant that they were presenting their arms to be bit, blood ready to be taken. Antlia went into the dining room, back pressed against her chair. She made eye contact with Nova and Regulus and waited for the event to begin.

Author's Note

I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading! Stuff is going to go down next chapter, so be prepared for that. Thank you for reading!

- Nicole