Float like a butterfly, scream like a banshee
Somethings hiding in the pantry
But I can't find it so would you please
Enchant me
Give me a potion
For my devotion
To the emotion

February 27th, 1888 — Oakshire Hall, Kent

The full moon had finally arrived and she'd made it the entire month without losing removing the mandrake leaf from her mouth. The sticking charm she'd used to keep it adhered to the roof of her mouth was growing weak now - it was something she'd had to renew religiously every few days - which seemed like a stroke of good timing. She had all of the ingredients ready, or at least, she had until Moselle had eaten the Death's-head Hawk moth while her back was turned. It was already late and the sky was miraculously clear enough to prepare the potion but now she was down a vital ingredient and she had no spare. If she didn't get the potion made that night she would have to start all over again! The thought of another month with a damn leaf in her mouth was enough to make her seethe with frustration. Moselle was wise to have scarpered.

The only way she thought she might be able to salvage the work of a month was Tiberius' study. She fortunately still had the key which meant she wouldn't have to try persuading him, but it would all be in vain if he was actually still in there. She thought she might have heard footsteps not long ago suggesting he had retired for the night but she'd been too distracted by her preparations that she wasn't sure if it had just been her imagination. She would have to risk it, time was of the essence. The worst case scenario was that she wouldn't get that moth but she definitely wasn't going to get it by staying in her room. Stowing the remaining ingredients while she left them unattended, Tig then left the room and stealthily picked her way down the corridor, the stairs, and into his study.

To her relief, he wasn't there which hopefully couldn't be said of the moth. Not knowing exactly where he kept his potion ingredients, she had to conduct a rapid search by wand light, rummaging through cupboards and drawers until she hopefully found what she was after. She was trying to force open one of his desk drawers when she thought she heard the creak of a floorboard outside in the hallway. Tig froze. She realized now that in her frantic search she hadn't tried very hard to limit the noise she was making and while she'd closed the door behind her, it was quite possible that she'd been audible enough to draw attention to herself.

The sound of the door handle turning confirmed her suspicions. Hastily extinguishing her wand light, she threw herself under his desk. In the process of hiding herself she hit her head and now sat with her face between her kneecaps, face smothered by the fabric of her nightdress as she clutched her head in silent pain.
""

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The study had been soundproofed since Tiberius had first installed himself in it several years earlier (and had probably been so beforehand, knowing the sort of man his father was, but Tiberius would rather not have taken chances with old spells). Unless the door was ajar, not so much as a creak could be heard from the hallway outside. That being said, he had installed a sort of security measure, after giving Antigone a key. When it seemed that she was not inclined to use it on any sort of consistent schedule or methodology to her visits, he realized that some sort of reactive warning would be necessary — he could not keep the study cleansed of things he did not want Antigone to see at all times, and if she happened to intrude when he had one such thing out, he could intervene fairly quickly.

Since she was the only other person who had a key, the spell was simple; an oil lamp in his bedroom that burned any time the study was occupied. When it came on he examined it curiously, wondering what she might be up to but neither angry nor surprised to know she was inside. There was nothing of import she could disturb there at the moment. When the light did not go out after a few minutes, though, his curiosity eventually got the better of him, and Tiberius abandoned his book in favor of a brief trip down to the study to interrupt — whatever she was doing.

The room was dark when he opened the door, but Tiberius knew he could not have missed her. He had walked the entire path from her bedroom down to the study, so unless she had left the room and instead darted downstairs, for some utterly inexplicable purpose, their paths would have crossed had she left. Moving into the room and lighting his own wandtip, Tiberius shut the door behind him.

"I know you're here," he said to the room at large. He didn't, but if it really was empty at least there would be no one to think less of him for his bluff.

  

She wondered, as she lightly massaged the top of her head, whether she had been too noisy or whether he had some sort of alarm system rigged. She supposed he might have made a lucky guess as to where she'd gone if he'd heard her leave her room - it'd be pretty obvious she was in there once he tried the door and found it unlocked.

The pain from hitting her head started to ease and she lowered her arms and bit the inside of her cheek as she weighed up her options. She could stay silent in the hope that he wouldn't call her bluff and actively look for her, he'd find her pretty fast if he did. Alternatively, she could reveal herself and straight up ask him for what she wanted and risk him sussing out what she was up to. There weren't really any drawbacks that she could see to telling him but she didn't want him to know all the same. He might have requested no secrets but as far as she was concerned if it wasn't the sort of secret that might trigger her vow, he didn't need to know.

Of course she could always announce herself and then lie about what she was looking for but she highly doubted he'd give her an opportunity to stay behind to continue her search and then she'd miss her opportunity for the month. How many potions called for death's head-hawk moths and was he aware they were required for an animagus potion?

Unsure of what she was going to tell him, she was at least sure of one thing: hiding any longer would make her look stupid if he found her, which he probably would. Crawling out from underneath the desk, she reflected on her wise decision, this way she could make the undignified transition from hiding place to standing without feeling his watchful gaze upon her. "You'd look rather stupid right now if I wasn't." She was stood behind the desk for a moment before brazenly plopping herself down in his chair.

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For one brief moment, Tiberius thought he'd assumed incorrectly — but then where would she have gone? Out the front door and into the countryside at night? That seemed rather unlikely. There was a floo in the downstairs parlor, but if she was really trying to make some grand escape, her Unbreakable Vow would keep her from getting very far. Besides, what on earth could have triggered her to flee now? They'd already settled the question of the twins, more or less, and had a plan in place for the acquisition of an heir. He'd promised, on several occasions, not to kill her. There was no earthly reason for her to up and fly the coop at such an inauspicious moment.

He heard her begin to move, though, and was relieved to find she was still here — either because it saved him the embarrassment of talking to an empty room, or because it meant she hadn't left him, he wasn't sure. He really didn't want her to die, which was, of course, the likeliest scenario should she attempt to run away. She crawled out from under his desk (what had she been doing down there?) and Tiberius couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"But you were," he said dryly, waiting for some sort of explanation as to why she was here.

  

"Yes, I was. I am." She gloated from where she sat, even though she really didn't have much reason to be gloating at all. Perhaps she was merely enjoying the withholding of information from him - he had to be curious as to what she was up to.

Tig made a show of studying her nails which she couldn't really see in any detail in the current lighting. What she was really thinking about was how to go about getting what she wanted without showing too much of her hand.

Leaning back in the chair, she brought her knees up to her chest and placed the soles of her feet against the edge of his desk. "You're up late." To her annoyance the leaf agitated the back of her throat and made her cough a couples times, hard enough to almost make her eyes water.

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The insolence of sitting in his desk chair was something Tiberius was prepared to allow. The level of confidence required to prop her feet up on his desk, as though she owned the study and everything in it, was not. With a scowl, Tiberius cast a knockback jinx—nothing that stood any chance of hurting her, given that she was already seated, but enough to scoot the chair back several feet and put the desk out of reach of her insolent toes.

"As are you," he said in a measured tone. He did not owe her an explanation; she, on the other hand, had to talk sooner or later.

  

The sudden jolt thanks to his spell amused her for a half second - she had obviously irked him and that was always entertaining - but it prompted more coughing which ruined it for her.

As she resumed coughing, she was hit with sudden inspiration and really it was all thanks to him. Once she stopped coughing, she fixed him with a rueful scowl of determination. She'd get what she wanted yet and he'd be none the wiser of her true motivations. "I need to brew a potion to get rid of this horrible cough and I thought you'd have the one ingredient I don't." Tig was trying to give him the impression that she was annoyed at him while internally she was delighting at how clever she thought she was. "I need a Death's-head hawkmoth." Tig cleared her throat and for a moment allowed a look of slight alarm to show on her face as she thought she could feel the mandrake leaf starting to grow looser.

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Tiberius eyed his wife critically for a moment. He hadn't noticed her coming down with any sort of cough over the past few days, but then, to be fair, he likely wouldn't have noticed anyway. He had only barely caught wind of the fact that his wife was on her deathbed the previous spring with enough time to save her from it. He was hardly an attentive husband. Still, he was suspicious of the excuse, as he always was with just about any explanation his wife gave him. After deciding he could think of no obviously suspicious motivation behind wanting to brew a potion, he moved past the desk and to the set of shelves where he kept various ingredients.

Lifting his wand to read the labels on the various boxes and jars housed on the shelves, he said with a faux casual tone, "It must be quite a terrible cough, if the potion couldn't wait until tomorrow morning."

  

She was pleased to see that he was moving to oblige her and was making a note of where such things were should she need to ferret out potion ingredients again in the future, hopefully without his detection. "It's very ticklish, I can't sleep." Tig cleared her throat lightly, mostly for the purpose of convincing him.

Deciding that he was probably too distracted to notice, she quietly returned her feet to their former perch. "What's your excuse?"

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It seemed unlikely to him that she was being entirely honest, especially given what he knew about her resolve in matters generally. Why take initiative to clear her own cough if she could instead laze about for days being waited on hand and foot by the servants?

Her question, however, was enough to get him to turn around and arch an eyebrow at her in disbelief — he did not need an excuse to be found in his own study, no matter what time of the day or night it was. When he turned around, he noticed that her feet were back up on his desk, which caused him to cross his arms. With a scowl, he waited expectantly, hoping that she would take the hint to put them down.

  

For some reason he looked back at her and then assumed what she thought was the stance of a professor displeased by chattering students in the midst of a class. Tig thought he was probably taking issue with her feet again but she decided to play dumb. "Did you find that moth?" She oozed nonchalance as she met his gaze.

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This being the middle of the night, Tiberius was not at his most gracious or tolerant — not that he was either of those things in any significant measure during the day, either. He was unamused by the fact that she hadn't taken her feet down, and the blatant disrespect that it demonstrated for his study (and, by extension, for him). The moth was in a jar right behind him on the shelf, but he had no intention of giving it to her while her attitude persisted.

"Go to bed," he said sternly. "Your cough can wait until morning."

  

Why did he have to be such a dullard? "It ca-" she stopped very abruptly in the midst of trying to tell him that it couldn't, in fact, wait. The half-second of silence was broken by choking noises. The mandrake leaf had suddenly come loose and as she was realizing, much to her horror, she had just swallowed it.

Her feet found their way back to the ground as she doubled over coughing. Tig swore as the coughing started to turn into retching. Would the potion still work properly if the leaf had made it halfway down her throat? Equally, could she really allow herself to vomit in front of Tiberius?

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The timing was too convenient to elicit any show of sympathy in Tiberius. Assuming that this little display was put on for his benefit, Tiberius rolled his eyes. "Take the theatrics outside, Antigone," he said dryly, gesturing towards the door.

  

It was very hard to give him a filthy look when she was in the midst of choking but she made up for it by rasping out a waspish retort between coughs. "Go to hell!" She slid off the chair onto her feet and turned her back to him so she might afford herself some privacy.

If she could just cough it back up into her mouth she might be able to save herself a second month of mandrake leaf. Quite suddenly the compulsion to cough disappeared and with a sinking feeling she realized it was too late, it was gone. Frustrated, she kicked his chair but it hurt her toes more than anything else. Her eyes were watery and she was biting the inside of her cheek to distract from the searing pain in her toe. She blamed him entirely for ruining her month of hard work but to her annoyance she couldn't abuse him for it without revealing what she was up to.

Tig folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not leaving until I have what I came for and I think if you didn't have it you'd have said as much." She might not need it that very night but she'd still need it next time.

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Tiberius was utterly baffled by the little display she put on. First of all, Antigone might never have been particularly warm and cuddly in their dealings together, but she seldom resorted to actual profanity. She was clearly frustrated, enough to lose her composure even more than usual. Kicking the chair? Honestly? Tiberius felt as though he was watching one of his daughters throw a fit — though when his offspring started in with such antics, he could simply leave the room and let the nanny deal with it.

Perhaps he ought to look in to hiring a nanny to watch Antigone.

"I think not," he said archly. "I'm not in the habit of giving gifts to insolent children."