Elena was the envy of most of Hogwarts' female population, and some of the male as well. She was Tom Riddle's sweetheart, and he was the most perfect boyfriend a girl could have. That's what the girls in her dormitory told her several times over. They thought it sweet that he would venture into another House common room to meet her in the mornings, that he would walk her to her classes even if it wasn't one they shared (there were few of those), and he would escort her to the library to study, and back to her dormitory in the evenings.
He kissed her forehead affectionately and would brush a light kiss to her lips every evening before bidding her goodnight. Any time the two were together, he had a hand on her— around her waist, by her knee, holding her own hand. He'd briefly dated other girls before, but never had they seen him so loving before. It was the height of romance.
It was her eighteenth birthday, and one of her dormmates had swept in to tell her Tom was awaiting her downstairs. He had flowers, of all things, and had asked the girl if she would please let Elena know that he was hoping they could go to Hogsmeade and spend the day together, just the two of them. The dark-haired girl had sighed, a hand curled over her chest at the romance of it all.
Elena had been enjoying a new book, had planned to spend her day that way. However, she knew better than to keep Tom waiting. She checked that the charm on her hair still held, grabbed her cloak, and set downstairs.
A slow smile bloomed across his face when Elena came near. He stood from his seat, pushing in his chair, and took her hand in his as he met her. "Happy birthday, sweetheart," he said, pulling her into an embrace.
She could smell the clean scent of his soap, and his sweater was soft against her cheek. She pulled back as soon as he would allow.
"These are for you." He held a bouquet with pink snapdragons, white roses, and a small flower that came in yellow, red, and orange. "Nasturtium," he said as she stroked one of the petals. She nodded, staring down at the flowers rather than addressing him.
"Those are so beautiful, Elena," came a voice behind her. It was her dormmate, who had decided to watch the romantic moment between the two.
"Er, yes," Elena agreed. "Thank you, Tom. I should— go put these in something, I think." She stepped back, but his hand did not release her.
"I could do that for you!" said the eager brunette.
Tom beamed at her. "Would you? That's so kind." He pulled out a single white rose and handed the rest of the bouquet to the waiting girl, who darted away as though she'd been given a secret treasure. "Here, doll." Tom stroked the rose against her cheek, and she grabbed it, wincing when she realized there were thorns. He was smiling at the reaction.
Elena inspected her finger, but there was no blood; she'd just have to be more careful.
"Shall we?" the young man said, offering he arm. She nodded and laid her right hand on the inside of bis bicep, letting him lead them out of the castle and toward the village.
"White roses," she said as they trekked past the gates. "Those mean something specific, don't they?"
"All flowers do," Tom conceded.
"Innocence?" Elena guessed, and he nodded as though he were pleased with her.
"Do you know what else?" At her slight shake of the head, he said, "Secrecy."
"Oh." She considered this, then asked, curiosity getting the better of her, "What about the others?"
His free hand danced over her fingers. "Snapdragons also have more than one meaning. Gracious Lady," he said as he stroked his index finger down hers. "Or deception." She shuddered. "And the last flower, nasturtium, means conquest."
Elena felt a flash of indignance, but she suppressed it before she could act on it. It would only make everything worse. She instead studied the passing landscape, noting the remnants of winter fading into spring. It was still winter for a few days yet, but the growing things didn't seem to realize. She hoped that was a good omen, despite (perhaps ironically) not believing in such things.
"Where are we going?" she said as they reached the village proper.
He smiled and led her toward Honeydukes. "I thought you might enjoy some sweets." She nodded uncertainly, but followed inside. "Choose whatever you like, love," he murmured, lips grazing over her forehead. Some nearby third year girls sighed as they looked on and Elena shared a reluctant smile.
Wizarding sweets were rarely just flavor, she thought as she picked through the aisles. She hadn't sent her da any the last few trips, and wondered if she could package some away at the end of the day. She wasn't much of a fan of chocolate frogs, but her da loved the cards, so she grabbed two. And a box of glacial snow melts, which she'd never tried, and treacle fudge. She glimpsed Tom where he leaned against a wall, and bit her lip. She didn't want to abuse his apparent good mood, so she met his eyes and nodded when he looked up.
They left the store after he insisted on paying, and guided her past the shops. He had a destination in mind, but she couldn't think what it was. They'd already passed the Hog's Head, not that many students frequented the establishment. It was as he led her into the tree line that she froze.
"What?" Tom asked, frowning.
Her face had gone white and she shook her head. "Not there, please. I've been good, haven't I?"
"Why are you—ah. I'm not taking you there to punish you, sweetheart," he assured her, and she studied his face for the lie. "I promise. Come on, then. We'll go to a different spot." She began walking once more, though her heart still pounded in her chest. True to his word, they stopped at a little rock formation. Tom swept off his cloak and transfigured it into a blanket to cover the forest floor, the placed her bag of sweets and the bag he'd brought along in the center before gazing up at her expectantly.
Elena lowered herself to sit with him, watching in confusion as he began to remove things for his bag. A little white box, a bag of crisps, a bottle of wine. "A picnic?" she said at last.
"I thought it might be pleasant," he responded, opening up the box to reveal neat little sandwiches. He then turned his attention to the wine, taking a swig from the bottle and offering it to her.
"We shouldn't be drinking," Elena said, but at his wry glance, she took it and sipped from it. It was a rich, bitter red. She was sure it was of good quality, though she didn't know wines well. However, she had developed a slight weakness for reds at the Nott home. They ate the sandwiches and crisps in the quiet hum of nature, passing the bottle back and forth between them.
When they'd finished the meal, Tom leaned back on the transfigured blanket and teased his hand against her thigh where her skirt still covered it. "I was right, wasn't I?" he said. At her questioning look, he added, "About this being pleasant."
She forced a smile onto her face which she was sure looked as nervous as she felt. "Yes. Thank you."
"Lay with me," he commanded, and she obediently lowered her back to the blanket. There was space between them, and he crept closer to her, propping himself on his side against her. Elena took in deep, steadying breaths. "You needn't be so nervous," he said as his hand smoothed over the material of her shirt. She could feel the weight of it on her stomach. "I've been a gentleman, haven't I?"
Elena wasn't sure what to say, so she nodded, and he seemed to take that as permission enough that he bent over her and kissed her lips. It had more pressure to it than the chaste ones he graced her with in public, and his tongue soon ran across her bottom lip, then pushed between, into her mouth. She obediently parted her lips and let him explore her mouth, stroking her tongue with his own before it retreated. She was almost relieved, until he sucked at her lip, and his teeth bit into it sharply and without warning. She whimpered, and his body was now above hers, one leg nudging hers apart to slide between.
She pressed a hand against his chest and pulled her mouth away. "Wait, stop. Please."
His eyes were dark with something other than anger and her cheeks were hot. "You're enjoying this," he said matter-of-factly. At the insistent shake of her head, he chuckled. "I have a gift for seeing the truth, pet. You're telling me you didn't enjoy that kiss?"
She swallowed and thought of her reply. "I didn't want it."
Tom's lips ghosted against her ear as he lowered to whisper, "But you enjoyed it all the same." One hand skimmed up her side to cup one of her breasts. He kneaded it, pulling back to watch her face, which was scarlet and mortified. "You can't keep denying me forever," he laughed, sidling over once more, his hand leaving her breast to trail over her neck. "You might be a pure little thing, but you're not a saint." His hand tightened in her hair where it met her scalp, a brief flush of something almost painful.
Elena frowned up at him. "You tortured me."
"I didn't torture you, doll," he reminded her.
That drew huff from her. "You ordered it."
"I didn't hear you complaining when I tortured your step-father." At the tightening of her jaw, he said, "You knew what I was when we made our deal, Elena. I have never pretended to be otherwise. Not in our interactions together away from prying eyes."
"I know," she whispered at last, then sat up, pulling her knees to her chest.
He curled around her, hands running down her arms. "I'll give you time, doll, but my patience is not endless. Eventually, you'll give in." She didn't need to respond as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Soon thereafter, they returned to wander the village more, primarily spending time looking at books. It was getting close to dinner when Tom finally walked her back, expecting her to put her things in her dorm before coming back so he could escort her to the Great Hall. As she set down the bag of sweets, she frowned. The rose he'd had her carry all day had been placed in it earlier, but it had changed. At some point, Tom had turned the petals a brilliant orange, almost vermillion, and the color blazed to her eyes.