The rest of the break had passed without anything notable happening. Avery had come over once or twice, and Lestrange had ventured over for lunch.
On the last day, Ophelia brought them to Kings Cross, and fawned over Elena as though she were her own daughter, and Tom not much less. Theodorus had no hope of holding out against her affection. Elena's parents had also come to see her off, a tradition apparently. Tom was pleased to note that Aurek Vablatsky only gave the girl a tentative, one-armed hug. He watched Tom's face the entire time to make sure he had not over-stepped. Tom was sure the man continued to stare after them when Tom swept her under his arm and onto the train.
Elena had studied him curiously on the train, before the others joined them. "What did you tell him?" She didn't have to elaborate.
"That you're mine, and he's not to touch you," Tom said, mouth quirking at the corners. He saw the fire in her eyes at the statement, how she longed to refute his claim. He still had one arm curled around her, tucking her into his side. When she didn't speak, he laid the other on her thigh. Elena looked out the window.
People noticed, of course. Hogwarts was a rumor mill of highest caliber, and whispers that Tom Riddle was seen escorting Elena Vablatsky to parties, wrapped around her on the train, escorting her to Ravenclaw Tower.
Tom caught a certain Hufflepuff glaring daggers at him in the Great Hall one afternoon. He lifted his goblet of pumpkin juice in salute, and Johnson scowled and looked away.
"What was that about?" murmured Lestrange.
"Johnson has heard I'm courting Elena," he responded, amusement thick in his voice.
The Knight's brows knit together in a frown. "You are?"
"More or less," he shrugged. "As much as I've courted any woman." They shared a smirk; his Knights were aware of his appetites, both the depth and breadth of them. He'd had Lestrange, who shared his predilection for sadism, practice obliviation on a few of them. Many young women had thrown themselves at the handsome, charming, intelligent young man; rare was the girl who could endure his attentions.
"How is she?" Rad had taken advantage of his position to seduce Tom's cast-offs, soothing ruffled egos and broken hearts, while indulging in cruelty that was mild after facing Riddle's.
Tom deliberated his response for a moment, before answering, "Delightfully fragile. And off limits for now."
The other Slytherin nodded even as he considered the Ravenclaw, who sat with her back toward the group. She looked different lately, more put together; she'd also improved in her classes since they returned from break. After a moment, he repeated, "For now?"
"Well, I don't foresee myself falling in love with the girl," Tom said archly. "I'll eventually have my fill of her, and she will go to one of you."
Lestrange pulled his attention away from the girl and to Tom. "Wait, you're giving her to one of us?"
Tom rolled his eyes. "I can hardly let her marry some good little boy who will run off and tell Dumbledore or the Aurors that I'm killing people, can I?" At that, Dolohov looked away from his conversation with Nott, who had surreptitiously glanced around to make sure no one was listening in.
"What's this?" the large sixth year asked.
Lestrange responded, "Tom is going to have Elena marry one of us when he's done with her."
The Head Boy ran his hand across his face in annoyance. "We can discuss this later, Rad."
"Of course," he said. "I just want to put it out there that she is my type. I like the little, breakable ones." His eyes shone as he stared back over at her.
"She's not something to break," Nott admonished. "She's a person."
"We all know you wouldn't appreciate her, Teddy, so no need to butt in," was the retort.
"Well, he's right," said Dolohov. "I'm sure Tom doesn't want her broken if he's having one of us take her."
"Enough," Tom commanded at last. "I said we will discuss this later, and we will discuss this later. Understood?"
They all murmured their agreement, not as eager to speak up after their reprimand.
When they'd all finished their meal, Tom ushered them to the library to study.
The mudblood was talking to Elena. Tom had been certain that he'd gotten the message, but Johnson was standing beside her desk, hands in his pockets, and smiling shyly as he spoke. Tom stepped to the other side of her and stroked her cheek, then pretended to startle at seeing the Hufflepuff there.
"Johnson, hello. How are you?"
Elena had stiffened at his touch, throwing him a chiding look before turning an apologetic smile to the other boy.
"Oh, er, hi, Riddle. I was just asking Elena if she was coming to the game next week. It's her House playing, after all. Against your blokes, right?" he said. "Your pal Lestrange is a beater, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is. A good one, from what I understand." His hand had settled on Elena's shoulder, thumb stroking the skin between her robes and her neck. "Excuse me, I just needed to discuss whether we were still meeting during our free period. Elena?"
She was clearly unhappy at the current situation, and her obvious discomfort would have amused Tom had he not been irritated at the audacity of the Hufflepuff mudblood. "Ah, yes, of course. At the library?"
"No," he said. "Our more private study room."
Johnson's expression darkened at that, even as Elena's cheeks burned. "I should be seated," he said, thumb gesturing behind himself. The girl nodded, frowning as he went.
"That was uncalled for," she said as Tom slid into the seat beside her.
"Was it?" he quipped, dating his parchment with a few quick scrawls from his quill. "We're going steady, and he was flirting with you. Any young man would get a touch possessive seeing someone encroach on his bird."
"We are not going steady." Elena scowled, her voice low. "You don't have romantic interests, remember?"
Tom tickled the end of his quill under her chin, drawing her gaze to him. "As I said before, my interests don't have to extend to romance, remember?" he mocked even as his eyes dropped to where her chest was concealed beneath her robes. Her scowl deepened even as her cheeks flared again.
"I— I am – I am not some sexual conquest," she hissed, her anger flustering her to the point of near-intelligibility.
He waited until the professor had entered, murmurs falling silent, to return a hushed, "You're not?"
By the clenching of her jaw, she had a retort, but class had begun. Her quill dug into the paper, skidding slight tears as she wrote something down. Then Merrythought's lecture began in truth and the anger slowly drained from her as she entrenched herself in the lesson.
She stuffed everything into her bag and was off to Charms before he could finish putting away his note, where she was similarly distracted. When she attempted the same flight to the dungeons, Tom snatched her wrist, placed her items away with a wand flick, and took her bag on his shoulder.
"Allow me to escort you, doll." It wasn't a request and her lips narrowed in annoyance, but she took his arm. As they stepped into the corridor and Avery and Nott flanked them with Lestrange bringing up the rear, Tom said, "I don't like when you avoid me, Elena."
She shrugged slightly, but didn't respond.
"After class, we will go study in our usual place, and you will stop behaving like a child," he told her.
Elena nodded, but didn't say anything.
After Potions, he escorted her up to the classroom on the sixth floor. She still had hardly spoken to him, but she hadn't taken pains to ignore him either. Lestrange was on her other side even as her hand was on Tom's arm.
"So, Vablatsky," Rad said, "What's your favorite class?"
"Er, Arithmancy, I suppose?" she frowned at the young man, as though trying to figure out why he spoke to her.
"I like Defense Against the Dark Arts, personally," he confided despite her not asking. "I sometimes wish I'd gone to Durmstrang, though. They actually teach it there."
"Teach what?"
He blinked at her. "The Dark Arts."
As they trekked up to the second floor, Dolohov and Rosier fell in beside Avery.
"Why would you want to learn that?" Elena said, her lip curled a touch at her revulsion. Tom laughed and patted her hand gently.
"What do you think I teach them when you're not around, doll?" At her grimace, he tutted. "Don't be so dismissive. This is why we here are the strongest duelists Hogwarts has to offer."
"I could show you a few things if you like," Lestrange offered after a moment.
Elena turned to him, eyeing his face as though he were a particularly unfamiliar puzzle, then focused back on the floor ahead of herself.
"It'd be fun," he added.
"Rad." The warning from Tom made him fall silent, though his wolfish grin belied the apologetic shrug. He kept quiet for the rest of the walk.
Tom spelled the professor's chair beside the table they'd transfigured into being, seating himself at the head. While Elena took a chair to his left and Theodorus to his right, there was a brief moment of tension when Dolohov and Lestrange both tried to sit beside the girl.
She frowned at them both as they stared one another down, then said to no one in particular, "Did I miss something?"
The two young men looked to Tom, who was obviously amused by the whole situation if the tilt at one corner of his mouth was an indication. When he shrugged, Avery said from his spot beside Nott, "They're fighting over you."
"Come again?" she asked.
They were still standing, Dolohov's bag on the table while Lestrange had the chair pulled out. They both glanced toward their leader again, who raised a brow, but said nothing. "Lestrange is trying to claim you," Dolohov said at last.
"Like you're not?" the other young man said.
"I'm sorry, what?" That had not clarified anything for her.
All the while, Tom looked on with that eerie half smile on his face.
"Tom said when he's done with you, he'll give you to one of us to marry," Lestrange explained. "Given how he and I share specific tastes, I would like that to be me."
Elena continued looking at him while she processed the information, blinking slowly. She indolently turned to Tom, frowning once more, and his smile widened into a feral grin when he saw something rising in those dark eyes, filling them and taking them from serene to whirling. "You're joking." It was not a question, but firmer, almost a command.
"You can't marry someone like Johnson, doll," Tom responded evenly. "I need to ensure you're well cared for. Your future husband should be one of my Knights."
She ground her teeth so hard that he could hear it, and one of her hands trembled until she curled it into a tight fist. "I am not—" She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and he could almost see her trying to pull herself together in her rage. "I am not a toy, Tom. You can't just claim me. And you most certainly cannot give me to anyone."
He sat back in the chair, long legs crossed at the ankle as they stretched in front of him. "I disagree." His voice was pleasant, the smile still curling his lips.
"This isn't a discussion. I'm a person, Tom, and I am my own," she spat, pushing back from the table at the last word and standing upright, swinging her bag onto her shoulder.
As she turned, Tom's hand snaked around her forearm and tugged her to him. "You seem to have forgotten yourself, doll," he murmured, his voice now dangerous and all the amusement gone in the flash of her defiance. "You seem to have forgotten who I am."
She was still trembling, staring down at him where he sat, expression warring between fear and fury. "I haven't forgotten anything, Tom," she said at last, voice hoarse.
"Haven't you?" he lifted one dark brow and considered the girl. His gaze flicked to his Knights, who were all watching with carefully neutral faces. "Study session is over. We are going to the dungeons." His grip tightened on Elena. "All of us. It's time our little pet learned how we operate."