It was Saturday and Elena stood in front of her vanity mirror, staring at the sorrowful creature staring right back. She wished she could be stronger, but the weakness was written into her bones, etched on her skin, blazing out of her so anyone could see. It was no wonder she'd caught the eye of so many wolves; she was easy prey. Small, uncertain, frail. She'd spent the past almost year trying to build herself up and Tom Riddle had knocked her back to the start with a flick of his wrist.
Still, she hadn't completely reverted. She knew how to dress like someone with confidence now, as evidenced by her black pencil skirt and black high-collared blouse, neat hose and sensible black heels. Her hair was braided tightly in the hopes that it would be less likely to come loose should she be subjected to more torture. Her makeup was tasteful, understated, and mostly in place as a mask for her lack of control.
Over it all she threw on her traveling cloak, stalked to the fireplace, and floo'd to the shop.
Tom Riddle sat on the counter awaiting her, also dressed in unrelieved black. He surveyed her form and she could almost physically feel his eyes on her legs, hips, breasts. "You'll want to put up your hood and hold your cloak closed for a bit. I don't want to spoil your reveal." Elena nodded and stepped forward, taking his offered arm. His free hand skimmed over her waist beneath the cloak and she almost didn't realize when the tugging feeling in her core became the pull of apparition.
"A graveyard?" Elena stepped away and closed her cloak with fists on the inside. Around them were tombs and tombstones, marble angels. The white stone gleamed in the moonlight.
"It's a private place, fitting for my Death Eaters." He smirked and his fingertips stroked her cheeks before he pulled her hood forward and plunged her face into shadow. "The men should be arriving soon. It'll be nice to have the whole family together again, won't it?" He tapped the tip of her nose and backed away, checking a watch he'd hidden somewhere in his robes. As the first pop of apparition rang out, he nodded and put it away.
There was another pop and another, another. Far more than she'd expected. By the time it ended, there were nine men circling Tom, all falling to a kneel before him and all hiding their faces in their hoods.
"Rise, my Death Eaters. Rise and dispense with the hoods. We are all family here." They stood as one and lowered their hoods to reveal their faces. There was Nott, Dolohov, Rosier, Avery, Mulciber, Lestrange. She paused on Abraxas Malfoy's white hair shining like the marble in the night. He stood proudly among the other men. There were two others she didn't know.
"Welcome, gentlemen. I called this meeting as a reunion of sorts." He gestured toward her. "Our esteemed guest has been absent so long that I thought it best to have a reintroduction. Go on," he commanded.
Elena swallowed and pushed back the cloth, staring at each of the men in turn. Rad's face broke into a feral, hungry grin. Dolohov's eyes sparkled. Nott seemed… disappointed somehow. And Abraxas Malfoy frowned.
"This is Elena… Mullens. In her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts, she was a part of my coterie. While she is not a Death Eater, you may consider her mine all the same, a pet of sorts." Lestrange laughed. "She is the illegitimate daughter of Cassandra Vablatsky." Understanding dawned on Malfoy's face, as though he hadn't placed her before now. She imagined he wouldn't have.
"Where has she been, my lord?"
"Upset you missed your chance with her, Rad?" The young man looked irritated but shook his head. "She's been hiding, playing the little mouse again. No worries; she's already had a taste of the Cruciatus as a part of her penance." He turned to her. "Radcliffe here is engaged to be married to a lovely Pureblooded French witch," he confided to the girl. "Though it looks like he might have preferred you."
"Perhaps when you're finished, my lord, I could still—"
"No." Tom's voice commanded silence. "I won't pass around our little pet like a toy, nor will I undermine the authority of whomever I place her with by borrowing her out. You'll have to ask her husband for that favor, Rad."
Elena was suddenly grateful both to her makeup and the night for hiding the flush of her cheeks. She knew better than to express her indigence; fighting against Tom's wishes especially in front of his minions was a good way to wind up screaming on the ground.
"Pardon, my lord," came the gruff voice of one of the men she did not recognize. "What's this about?"
"Ah, Travers. Forgive me. As I've said, Elena here is mine. I am man with particular needs, and I intend to break her to those. As she does not share our views, this would be the best way to make sure she understands her place, albeit in a way that is enjoyable for me. Once that is done, I'll give her over to one of you to ensure she remains secure. Can't allow an asset to fall into the wrong hands, can I?"
"And what is exactly is her value?" Malfoy's cultured tones quipped, adding a delayed, "my lord?" His eyes, an indistinguishable grey in the dark, danced over her impassively. Without a Pureblood name, it seemed she wasn't worth his regard. She whipped back her cloak and straightened under his scrutiny, refusing to be cowed because she bore a muggle name.
"Does it matter, Abraxas? I say she has value, and you should take my word as law." Tom stalked behind her and she stiffened, ignoring the urge to watch him. His hands alighted on her shoulders. "However, since you asked so politely, I will indulge you. Besides, some of your brothers already know. I would hate to cause a rift between your bonds."
Abraxas nodded and murmured, "Thank you, my lord." He had grimaced at Tom's early words to him, though he still watched Elena with something like disdain.
The tall man at her back stroked his hands down her biceps. "Elena here inherited her mother's gift. Imagine my surprise when I found she had written a prophecy about yours truly." The three new Knights— no, Death Eaters— now looked over her as though she'd only just appeared. "Ah, you see now. Does that fulfill your curiosity, Abraxas? Does her value meet your expectations?"
The pale man balked at that but stammered out his agreement.
"Good." Tom pulled her to lean against him and she could almost hear the mocking smile on his face as he said, "You're not yet engaged, are you, Brax?" The man sputtered, eyes bulging in disbelief. Tom chuckled. "Calm down. I'd rather hand her over to someone who appreciates her. Besides, I know you'd rather die childless than sully your line with a halfblood. Now, onto business. Rosier, Dolohov, how goes the recruiting?"
"Excellent, my lord," said Dolohov, tearing his eyes off the girl at last. "We have several prospects among the younger ones already. Rowle is an especially good candidate— you'll remember him, he was a new Prefect under you." At Tom's nod, he continued. "He would be ideal to keep recruiting once Ev and I have graduated. Younger students trust him."
One of Tom's hands lifted from her as he tapped his chin, considering. "Bring him to the next meeting. If you're considering him as your replacement at Hogwarts, it's time he moved to the next level."
"As you wish, my lord."
"Corbin, tell me of your efforts at the Ministry."
"My lord, I have spoken with many of the older families, ones who are displeased, especially since Grindewald's fall by Dumbledore's hand. The Ministry has been cutting down on anything that smacks of prejudice against muggles," he sneered, "and thus, against mudbloods and their ilk. Many of the Sacred Twenty-Eight are suffering as a result. I am certain that within the next few months I can secure the houses Rookwood and Macnair."
"Excellent. Gentlemen, the slow rise in our numbers is evidence of our elite status. Within the next few years, I expect we will number in the dozens; within a decade, in the hundreds. While most will not bear my mark, that being reserved only for those such as yourself, the inner circle, we will soon enough have strong enough numbers to begin our true purpose. What you are doing extends beyond keeping bloodlines pure or preserving tradition; you are ensuring the very survival of the wizarding race. You are the officers in this war, for it is indeed a war we are waging, whether our enemies are yet aware or not. As always, I appreciate your fortitude." By the end, they were all gaping at him with something akin to awe, even Abraxas Malfoy. If nothing else, Tom Riddle knew how to speak to people's desires. "You are dismissed. Good evening to you all."
Abraxas, the yet-unnamed Death Eater, Mulciber, and the man Tom had called Corbin all disapparated immediately upon bidding their lord goodnight. Avery looked to Nott before going as well, Rosier with a bow as well. Nott, Lestrange and Dolohov remained.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Tom said, surveying the three. Elena frowned.
Theodorus came forward first. "I wished to reestablish my friendship with Elena, my lord. I was just going to give her my well-wishes." At a gesture, Nott came forward and took one of her hands in his. "It is good to see you again, Elena. I'm sure we'll speak again soon."
"Yes, er, you as well, Theodorus."
"My lord," the man said with a bow before popping out of their sight.
"Dolohov, Lestrange?" Both men had been staring at her, Dolohov intently and Lestrange in a way that made her suspect she did not want to know his thoughts. At their lord's words, they glanced at one another, their old rivalry rising. Dolohov bowed his head to the senior man.
Lestrange grinned. "My lord, I know I will not be allowed certain… liberties… with Miss, er, with the girl," he said, tongue darting across his lips. "However, should you ever deign it acceptable, I would gladly assist in correcting her. It need not be sexual in nature."
Elena backed away from the man, only succeeding in pushing herself further into Tom's embrace. Somehow, she imagined torturing her would always be sexual to Lestrange regardless of whether he touched her intimately or not. She could still recall the way he'd leered down at her after using the Cruciatus. Being alone with him was something she hoped to never experience.
"I will take it into consideration," Tom said equably. "Antonin?"
"My lord," he said, gaze darting between her and Tom towering behind her. "With your permission, I would like to spend more time with Miss… Mullens. I would of course be respectful of your claim, but my intentions toward her have not changed."
At the last, he had taken her hand in his, his thumb resting on her pulse.
Tom ran his chin over the top of her head pensively. "You will not touch her, other than what is considered gentlemanly in the public sphere. Nor will you curse, hex, or otherwise bespell her. Any infraction she commits will be reported to me to handle."
The dark man nodded.
"I'll allow it." Lestrange bristled. "Now go, both of you."
They chorused, "My lord," bowed and left.
A shiver ran through her body at Lestrange's last glance. It clung to her like something tangible.
"If you weren't so disgusted with him, so fearful of dark wizards, Rad would be far less eager to sink his claws into you," he told her after a moment, his hands pulling away her cloak so he could stroke her arms through her blouse.
"It's hard not to be," she said.
He pulled her more firmly against him, one arm wrapping around her waist. "You seemed fine with Dolohov, though he holds the same interest in you."
Elena glowered into the night. She had no idea whether Tom could see her face, though she suspected that was his cheek against her hair. "Dolohov isn't nearly as unsettling as Lestrange. Lestrange looks at me as though he wants to eat me."
"Mmm. That's because he does," Tom growled, his nose brushing against her ear as he continued running his hands over her. "If you think Antonin wants to do anything less, you haven't been paying attention." At Elena's questioning head tilt, he said, "I've brought a few conquests to Antonin to see how he would handle them. He may be a perfect gentleman outside of the bedroom— or dungeon— but inside, he is every bit the monster Lestrange is."
Her heart pounded and she was sure he could feel it through where they were connected. The arm around her trekked upward, resting on the throbbing veins of her throat. "And you?" she whispered.
His chuckle rumbled through her as he planted a kiss on her temple. "Oh, pet. I'm so much worse."