He hadn't tried to get her alone since her birthday thankfully. The flowers had all faded away, but the morning after they'd finally wilted, she stepped out of the common room to see Tom standing there with a rose as bright as the one he'd left her with before. He smirked when her eyes lit on it, holding it out to her. "Be wary of the thorns," he said, before stooping to kiss her hair.

Elena nodded and took it in her left hand, her right going to Tom's arm.

She avoided the eyes of those around her as they walked, the people who would smile to see such a couple, or whisper about how romantic it all was. She hated it. Couldn't they see that? She was exhausted, not just from her usual sleeplessness, but also because of the nightmares.

They were a blend of things she may have remembered, or thought she remembered, from her visions, the two times Tom had seen fit to punish her, and her cursed imagination.

Last night, she'd been bleeding from her mouth, blood pouring down her chin and over her chest, so that her skirt clung to her body with the sticky, cloying liquid. She tried to make it stop, cupped her hands under her face, but it flooded over. And Tom was watching it all with fire in his eyes, laughing that strange, high laugh.

That hadn't been the worst dream by far.

She mostly picked at her breakfast, though she knew she needed to eat more. She'd dropped weight in the past month, and she hadn't much to spare to begin with. When Tom stood from the Slytherin table, she rose as well and met him at the doors.

"Are you well, pet?" he asked, to which she nodded. "You're looking peaky. You need to eat more."

"Yes, Tom," Elena murmured.

He frowned, pulling her to the side, and tilting up her chin so she would look at him. "You need to stop pouting eventually, Elena; it isn't attractive. It's also immature."

She stared up at him blankly. "I'm sorry."

"If you keep behaving like this, people are going to wonder what's wrong with you. Perhaps they'll think I'm even mistreating you." He quirked a brow. "I will not have that."

A part of her she'd tried to suppress wondered at that unbelievably. He was upset with her for being depressed after his torture session wherein he'd had the boys— at least one of whom she thought was a friend— Cruciate her. He didn't like that she was trying her best to be perfectly obedient and nothing else, lest she incur his wrath? Didn't like that she was tired and lacked an appetite?

For one brief second, Elena wondered if all of her secrets were worth this price, but her da's sallow face flashed before her eyes and the thought passed. She couldn't do anything until she had the means to take care of him. Perhaps once she was out of Hogwarts, had a steady income, she could manage. For now, she needed certain secrets kept.

Tom's dark eyes bored into her and she wondered what he could read on the surface. His lips twitched and his hand slid up her jaw line, combed through her hair. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. "Things would be so much simpler if you just let go a little. I'll take care of everything; all you have to do is be a good little doll." He studied her closely. "There will be no more pain, no more violation, just pleasure and power. Can you do that?"

His voice was low, warm, hypnotic. The serpent must have sounded like that to Eve. And how apt was that, considering who Tom Riddle really was. She'd heard at her da's church that the Devil was once God's favorite and most beautiful angel. Whatever he had been, the potential for evil had been there all along.

He wasn't going to allow her to retreat inside herself; eventually he'd do something to punish her. She had to either endure that, or pull herself up and face the situation at hand. She wasn't a Gryffindor, she wasn't brave or strong or anything like that. Still, this was temporary. All things were temporary. She could endure.

Tom still staring at her expectantly, and she thought back to his question and nodded. "I can," she said at last.

"Good girl." He brushed his lips over hers, then continued leading her to their first class.

Double Transfiguration. She knew by now it was the least favorite class of Tom's cohort. Dumbledore apparently mistrusted Tom and kept watch as best he could. Tom despised him in return. The professor had never been anything but kind to Elena, so she usually stayed silent when the Slytherins muttered about him to themselves.

Tom pulled her toward the back, the opposite of his preference in most classrooms, and she sat beside him, laying out her notetaking gear. She nearly jumped out of her seat when the young man's hand laid over her thigh, but he merely smiled at her when she turned to him inquisitively.

He kept it there the whole class period, even when Professor Dumbledore passed back one of their essays. The older man had glanced between the two of them, bright blue eyes considering Elena carefully before moving on.

When class ended, he called out, "Miss Vablatsky, could you stay for a moment? There was something I wanted to discuss with you." Tom hung back beside her as the rest of the students trickled out, and Dumbledore favored them with one of his small, sad smiles. "She will be along shortly."

Dark eyes darted to her and she nodded. "I'll be fine." Tom nodded in return and stalked out of the classroom.

The door closed silently behind him, and Elena found herself suddenly alone with the professor whom she'd never spoken with outside of class or holiday mealtimes.

"Sit, please," he offered, conjuring up a squishy purple chair behind the desk, two feet from his seat. She sat gingerly, legs crossed at her ankles. "You must be a bit confused as to why I asked you to stay." At her agreement, he sighed. "You have always seemed like a rather private girl, Miss Vablatsky. I understand the desire to keep to oneself. I, too, have had my fair share of troubles." He stared at her so earnestly that she found herself wringing her hands in her lap. His blue, blue eyes bored into hers not unlike the way Tom's did, but there was a kindness to him. "When you came back from break, I confess I was heartened to see you looking so well… but I was worried about the company you chose to keep. And now, you've become less— less yourself of late, and I worry."

"Oh," she said. She had no idea what to think, much less how to respond. He was concerned for her. Elena hadn't realized the professor noticed her at all outside when she raised her hand to answer, or the essays she turned in. He was one of the few who had ever spoken of her reticence. And he seemed to empathize.

Dumbledore watched her with those sorrowful eyes, scanning over her face, her nervous hands. He reached out and laid one leathered, warm hand over hers where they fretted. "Do you need help?"

"Oh," she said again, suddenly feeling hot and strange. She wasn't afraid necessarily, but she was overwhelmed, uncertain, and suddenly tumbling inside of herself as her eyes stung.

"I'm sorry I never reached out sooner. I thought, perhaps, you felt you were dealing with whatever it was in your own way." There was the lightest sheen of sweat on his hand, and she wondered if he was nervous, too. "If that was wrong, if it caused you more harm—"

"No," she said at last. "No, that's what I wanted." Some of her tears escaped where she'd been trying to keep them locked up, sliding down her face. "I— that has been, been dealt with, as much as it can be." Elena nodded to herself, as though she needed the reassurance.

"Then, this recent turn," the man hesitated, "is it, I have to ask, you understand, is it Tom?"

She blinked, more errant tears falling through her lashes as she did, and looked up at him. She hadn't even realized she'd been staring at her hands. "What?"

"I know he can be persuasive," Dumbledore said. "He's an intelligent, gifted young man." He pursed his lips, as though unsure of the reception his next remark would have. "But I fear that he is not the harmless boy he seems."

Her heartbeat began to thump more powerfully, so she could feel it in her throat. He knew something. Elena could see it in his eyes. They were searching her, communicating something even as he sought something else in return. She thought back to Tom's high, cold laugh, to the way he'd stared down at her when she'd begged him, and abruptly shut her eyes, shaking her head. "I know what he is."

Dumbledore's hand tightened infinitesimally on her own. "Do you need help?" he repeated.

Her eyes batted open and she observed him, trying to see the man past the professor who had given her lessons and lectures since she was eleven years old. He looked as tired and she felt, and Elena unexpectedly recalled headline from the newspapers calling for him to duel Grindewald, for him to do something about Dark Wizard plaguing Europe. He'd told her he'd had his fair share of troubles, and she believed him. She could see it written in his face. He had borne so much and would bear more still.

And he knew. He knew about Tom, or had some inkling. He seemed to be the only one who did. He had no idea what mess she'd gotten herself into, but he was offering help.

He looked like he could use help himself.

The thought that she wasn't the only one, that someone else, someone with power and strength knew that Tom Riddle was a snake waiting to strike buoyed her unexpectedly. She wasn't alone; Dumbledore was watching. He was here if she needed him.

The hand he wasn't holding laid atop the back of his. "Not yet," she told him, speaking of understanding, hope, and determination with her eyes.

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Miss Vablatsky."

"Elena," she corrected.

"Elena, then." He patted her hand one more time before extracting his own. "Thank you for taking the time to talk with me, Elena."

"Of course, professor. Thank you." She stood and began walking toward the door, then paused and spun to face him again. "Everyone is calling on you to end this war, professor." He watched her, brows furrowed. "It's a lot to expect of one man. I just wanted to tell you," she said, biting her lip as she considered her next words. "I wanted to tell you that I have faith in you."

"Daughter of the famed seer." He smiled. "Did you have a vision."

Elena shook her head. "I don't need visions to have faith in you, Professor Dumbledore. That's the point of faith. You know something no one can tell you is true, and you believe it."

Tom was awaiting her in the hallway, much as she expected. She took his arm and nearly smiled at him.

"What did he want?" Tom asked.

"He wanted to see if I was alright," she said simply.

"Is that all?"

Elena did smile at him then. "I think he's going to duel Grindewald soon." He didn't seem to know how to respond to that.

NOTES:

With this we are halfway to the end.