Things were well underway when Elena stepped out of the Floo (open to her and Tom's followers only) into the drawing room. Conversation was clearly underway but halted as Elena arrived.

"Sweetheart, right on time." Tom sat relaxed in a large, handsome wingback chair at the heart of the group. He held out a hand toward her and she crossed, extended her neck for him to kiss her cheek, and allowed herself to be drawn onto his lap. She crossed her ankles modestly and Tom rested his tumbler of firewhiskey on her thigh. "That's my good girl."

Abraxas Malfoy, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace she'd just enter via, looked on with amusement. An older man with dark hair and silver eyes she didn't recognize sat on a small couch, another perhaps less than a decade older than herself beside him. He was handsome, head tipped curiously at her. Nott and Dolohov sat in chairs on the opposite side of those two, and there was another small couch where Abraxas had no doubt sat before. Lestrange occupied it alone now and Elena looked away from him as soon as her eyes lit upon him.

"Who's this, Tom?" said the younger unknown man.

"Ah, forgive my poor manners. Augustus, Arcturus, this is Elena Mullens." His alcohol-free hand was already playing her locks. "Elena, sweetheart, meet Augustus Rookwood and Arcturus Black."

"Mullens?" The man with quicksilver eyes was contemplative. "I've heard that name before."

Elena colored faintly, grateful for the flickering firelight. "I'm an apprentice at Bones, Bones and Trelawney," she murmured.

"Ah, you're helping with paperwork on Reg's case, yes?" At her nod, he smiled. "Good office, that. The Bones have a strong sense of justice and they'll see Reg properly acquitted."

Augustus Rookwood was still staring at her, considering. "This is the girl you mentioned, Brax?"

"This is our lord's little pet, yes," the pale man drawled.

"Hm. She's prettier than you said she was."

"Are you married, Rookwood?" Lestrange queried, that eerie smile on his face. "Tom's going to give her to one of us when he's through with her." His tongue flitted over his lips as his gaze fastened to her once more. "Isn't that right, little one?"

"Must you be so rude, Lestrange." Elena cast a grateful look Antonin's way and he saluted her with his glass.

"Dolohov won't share if it's him that gets her," the near madman whinged. "I share. I'm more than willing to allow others a taste of what's mine, as long they don't break anything."

Antonin grimaced. "It's a shame you're to wed this fall, isn't it?"

"Perhaps someone will favor my bride enough to share should they get the doll," Lestrange retorted.

Elena ground her teeth and opened her mouth, but a touch from Tom stilled her. He was enjoying himself; he savored the envy of others, wanted them to covet his possessions. She was his possession. Oddly it was her position as his that made her of worth to the men more than anything else about her.

"Who wants to wed a halfblood?" Abraxas was far less attractive when sneering, which was whenever there wasn't a woman to seduce or a man to ingratiate himself to.

"I would wed this specific halfblood," Antonin bristled. "If our lord deems me worthy of such. I'd do so gladly."

"Drink, pet." Tom brought his glass to her mouth and she sipped obediently. His voice was low as to not disturb the discussion. One of his fingers traipsed over her lip before he lowered the glass back to her thigh.

Abraxas had summoned the bottle of firewhiskey and refilled a glass that had been full when she'd arrived. Elena vaguely wondered how much the men had already partaken. "Is she that good of a fuck, that Pureblood heirs would lower themselves to bond to her for life?"

Lestrange, Antonin and Nott looked to Tom and the others followed suit. Tom's hand curled around her throat, skimming down to the buttons on her blouse. One, two, three, then stopped, finger pads running over the scar revealed. "You're asking how good my pet is in bed, Abraxas?"

The other man balked. "I— I meant no offense—"

"Don't be silly," Tom cut in. "If I'm to gift her to one of you, I can hardly mind sharing pertinent information, can I?" His hand flattened over her chest, slid beneath her blouse, the bra, and seized upon her breast. He gripped her nipple and twisted it until she laid her head against his shoulder, trying to smother a groan of mortification, pain and desire. "Delightfully responsive, for one. Tight, obedient." He kissed her temple. "And she moans so prettily when I hurt her, though she hates that she loves it. Don't you, pet?" She hid her face until he said, "Now, sweetheart, it's rude to ignore our company. Answer my question for the men."

Her cheeks burned as she turned her head and glanced around the room. Arcturus Black was frowning, Rookwood inquisitive, Lestrange wolfish. Surprisingly, Abraxas was contemplative as his eyes roved her face and Tom's hand still under her blouse. She quickly turned toward Dolohov and Nott. Nott who clearly felt embarrassed for her and Dolohov… She'd never seen that glint in Dolohov's stare before. "How do manage to attract so many sadists, Tom?" It was the first response that popped into her head and she immediately regretted it.

The men around her chuckled, an uncomfortably masculine sound that made her too aware of being the only woman in the room.

"I wouldn't say I'm necessarily a sadist," Abraxas said self-assuredly. "However, I appreciate a woman who is biddable and accommodating to my desires."

"You could take her, Brax," Lestrange eagerly suggested.

Even as he leered at her, Abraxas said, "I won't have my heir be less than a Pureblood." Elena saw Dolohov visibly relax.

"What about you, Rookwood? You're not married, are you?"

The affable seeming man looked startled at the question, but before he could voice anything, Tom said, "Rad, you're trying my patience." That effectively closed the line of questioning. Tom had her sip the firewhiskey a bit more, then refilled the glass and took a swig himself.

"Ah, Tom," said Arcturus suddenly. "I am sending someone your way. She should be into the shop sometime this week."

"Oh?"

The older gentleman nodded as he took a drink from his whiskey, then swirled it in the glass. "Yes. Hepzibah Smith. Awful name, that. Anyway, the woman claims to be a descendent of Helga Hufflepuff herself if you'd believe it. She has some quality pieces Borgin and Burke might fancy purchasing, so I told her there is no finer place to conduct her business than yours."

Tom shifted her slightly on his lap before asking, "And what kind of woman is Smith?"

"A rotund mess of rouge and girlish giggles better suited to those a quarter her age or less," muttered the Malfoy lord; for once the sneer in her presence was not directed her way. It was no less unattractive for that.

Tom was musing; he often pet her absently as he thought much as one would a lap cat. Though she couldn't imagine him with one of those. Perhaps a snake. "Easily handled then?"

"By you?" Abraxas guffawed, a surprisingly inelegant sound. "Child's play."

Arcturus tacked on, "Miss Smith is an old maid and positively melts at a hint of flattery. She's also easily taken in by a pretty face. Yours should have her eating from your palm before you even open your mouth."

They continued talking about Smith and the possible treasures she might hoard (her family was rather well off apparently and there was mention of a suit of armor made by goblins), which led into the wealthy men bragging about their own wealth. It was all the droll sort of boasting that reminded her of boys barely in their teens trying to seem manliest. She tuned out the words and instead focused on the interplay of the men with one another.

It was clear that Tom stood at the head of them, for all his lack of a wizarding name and his humble means. They deferred to him almost instinctually (Abraxas Malfoy the only one who seemed to struggle there). Arcturus Black, whom she'd been surprised to see, was by far the oldest and most experienced of them, arguably the one with the most political sway. Abraxas was the wealthiest and considered himself somewhere around the status of Black. Lestrange ignored Theodorus and had placed Antonin beneath him by virtue of having come to Tom at a later time.

Most people overlooked Nott; it was a mistake. Theodorus Nott was by and far Tom's most intelligent follower at this point. He was resourceful as well. Elena was fairly certain part of his whole "harmless, studious sort" was so others would underestimate him. He was disarming in his quiet, affable way. Placing him at the bottom of the hierarchy was foolish.

Theodorus knew where he stood. Moreover, he knew where everyone else fell behind him and how quickly positions could change. It was there in the deft comments he made when everyone least expected it, the tip of Tom's head as he considered them. When Nott spoke, Tom tended to listen. Theodorus was possibly the person who knew Tom best. He'd been the first "friend" to an orphan boy with a muggle name. Elena had no doubt he'd recognized the potential in a young Tom, and cultivated rapport based on that. Even in their first year, the Slytherin heir had stood out for his power and proficiency.

Arcturus, Tom respected to a degree. He seemed to still be deciding on Rookwood. Abraxas Malfoy seemed mostly useful for his wealth and position, otherwise he was a popinjay of the worst kind. For all Lestrange had been one of the first to gravitate toward Tom (she suspected it was the power and cruelty that drew Rad in), their lord seemed to find him somewhere between a useful tool and a puppy he had to reign in on occasion. Dolohov most definitely placed higher.

It was an odd assortment; Rookwood and Black and Malfoy were appropriately matched in company, but Dolohov's family had only recently extended to England and was thus too new to be a known factor to the others; Nott was an intelligent young heir and made sense to a degree. Lestrange was a loose cannon.

He's testing them, she realized with a start. Even her presence was part of it. He'd wanted to see how his newer followers handled both her and his older followers. Other than Malfoy, they seemed to be handling the situation well.

Elena briefly wondered the extent of their knowledge about Tom; she was sure they knew he was descended from Slytherin and at least a halfblood (no one mentioned it or anything nearing his family). Abraxas had been present at the last little meeting she'd attended, so had probably experienced him at his worst. Did the other two know what he was capable of? If they'd been told, had they believed this handsome, charming young man was a monster capable of murdering a person with as little thought as he would a bug? Moreover, would they care?

As she'd mentally taken stock of everything, Tom had kept feeding her alcohol. Elena maintained small sips to keep herself somewhat clear-headed, but she felt it enough that she had relaxed into his lap. At one point he had her start holding the glass. The men were now on about ministry policies that could impact their personal fortunes. The hand not around her waist started inching her skirt upward and Elena turned to look reproachfully at Tom. He smirked and kissed her.

Unlike the little shows of affection he bestowed publicly, this was rough. It was how he preferred to handle her when alone, nibbling at her lip and his tongue possessively roving her mouth. When he pulled away, she was torn between dizziness and furious humiliation. And his hand was now stroking her bare thigh, having worked her skirt high enough the lace tops of her hose were displayed.

When the lull in the conversation from the action had passed, Theodorus leaned over and said discretely, "My lord, is it necessary to further display Elena so? Lord Black is decidedly uncomfortable seeing her in this state and I worry even Antonin won't be able to control himself should you become more… exhibitive."

Tom deliberated a moment and nodded. "I suppose my point is made, no need to, ah, rub it in."

"Thank you," Elena mouthed as Nott sat back. He half-smiled and shrugged, as if to apologize for the little he could do. It was more than she'd expected. She had started to worry Tom would take her in front of the gathering just to show the violence and power he exuded in sex was no less than any other part of his life.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm not as young and energetic as you lot," said Arcturus once the clock on the mantle proclaimed it to be nearing eleven. "I'm going home to my wife and my bed. Good evening gentlemen, Miss Mullens."

"Good evening," she returned, inclining her head respectfully.

"I should also be leaving," said Rookwood. "Though this evening has been enlightening. My lord." He nodded to Tom. "Gentlemen, good evening." Elena didn't miss that he eyed her speculatively even as he omitted her. If Tom noticed or cared, he said nothing.

Malfoy was studying Tom when she looked back around the room.

"I rather like them," Tom said at last. Abraxas visibly relaxed. "I just hope Black has family members who are more amenable to the things that might happen during meetings. Arcturus doesn't seem to have liked the way I treated my pet."

"His brother is better suited, but we need to secure Arcturus before Regulus can take point," Nott said. "Regulus Black is a bit more unconventional."

"Good."

Abraxas Malfoy had abandoned his spot to take the couch to Tom's left. Elena glanced over at him to see he was staring at the bit of pale thigh that shone still, watching Tom's thumb stroke her absently. He leered when he caught her looking.

"My lord," said Lestrange. "Now that the new recruits are gone, perhaps you could—"

"Radcliffe." Nott's usage of the name was surprisingly authoritative. "There are witches out there who will gladly go to your bed and I know you have no qualms about obliviating them after. Why don't you go down to Knockturn and pick one up rather than bother Elena."

The grin on Lestrange's face was sheepish, but still had the edge of teeth to it. "I like to share. It's more fun that way."

"I don't," Dolohov warned.

The two of them locked gazes, only breaking away when Tom said, "I'm afraid Nott wouldn't enjoy the show were I inclined to demonstrate pet's entertainment value."

"He could leave," Lestrange suggested and Nott fumed at him. "The rest of us wouldn't mind."

"Abraxas, you wouldn't find it distasteful if I used my little halfblood pet right here in your drawing room?"

"I enjoy a good show as much as the next man, my lord." He was watching contemplatively as Tom's hand roved her body. "How biddable is she exactly? Would she perform if you chose?"

Tom chuckled. "She'd get on her knees and suck my cock right here if I commanded it. Wouldn't you, sweetheart?" She nodded, wondering if it was possible for her cheeks to burn so hot, she'd catch fire even as she prayed Tom didn't decide to demonstrate. "I'm afraid they might not have seen that, pet. Speak."

"Yes, my lord," she said softly.

"Yes to what? I want you to tell the men what you'd do for me."

There was not a word in any language that could encompass how much Tom Riddle made her burn inside. Hatred and loathing were far too shallow. She licked her lips, heart pounding anxiously. "I would get on my knees and—" She didn't want to finish, but he stared down at her, waiting. "And suck your—" the words kept sticking in her throat and she was hardly able to stutter them out through the lump there. "And suck your cock if you commanded it, my lord."

Lestrange and Malfoy both burst out laughing. Tom was beaming down at her.

"That is a show I would not mind seeing," Abraxas admit as his laughter had cooled down.

"Yes, well, I can't break the poor thing too quickly." Tom stroked her cheek. "For the admission, I'll give her a reprieve on performing. However, I think we will retire to my room for the remainder of the evening." He cradled her as he stood, lifting her effortlessly. "Good evening, gentlemen."

"My lord," they chorused. She could feel eyes on them until the door closed.

Notes:

Notes on characters in this chapter:

-Tom Riddle is a power-hungry, narcissistic psychopath. He loves having power; he loves displaying power.

-Arcturus Black is not one to rush things; he knows his family has power. He is always interested in furthering that, but conservatively so as not to risk too much and tarnish the House of Black.

-Rookwood is a bit of a wildcard here. He's inquisitive, he's tempted, but he might or might not be sold.

-Lestrange is (in my head) the reason Rodolphous married Bellatrix. He's a psychopath of the variety that needs someone holding his leash, but he's happy to follow as long as he sees a reason to. He is good with sharing because it often ups the ante so to speak and he can further destroy another, belittle, degrade, show his power, etc in that way as well.

-Nott is just uncomfortable. I feel kind of bad for him. He's a Death Eater, but really he just wants power to be safe in a world where he has to hide who he is. He's not a bad guy, but he's more concerned with keeping himself and his place in the world intact than anything else.

-Dolohov is... probably one of the most complex here. Yeah, he's a sadist. Unlike Lestrange, he's not interested in Elena because she's Tom's, nor is he because he sees someone to torment. He genuinely likes her, but he also loves the breakable, delicate things about her. He wants to simultaneously hold he while she cries and be the reason for it, knowing that she loves him at the end of the night (and it's not necessarily Elena so much as the prospect of that with her that he can see).

-Fucking Abraxas. I really had no idea how I'd write him, but man. One, he's apparently a voyeur and an exhibitionist. But he loves power most of all. Not a violent man necessarily, but one who will use violence if he feels it will accomplish his goals. He likes power; he likes being in charge. Mostly because he believes he's better than everyone else.

So we have all these men who want power for some reason or another, half of them sadists who want to be able to do what they do with impunity, and they're all showing off for one another. Throw in one somewhat pretty, quiet, obedient, fearful girl et voila. You get this chapter.

I saw this kind of dynamic with men often while I was active duty (yeah, I was in the military), especially around a fire or in the smoke pit. I was often the only or one of the few women there. I've seen how different people handle being a part of those situations along a spectrum of gender identities and roles, etc. It's interesting and it can be unnerving.

Anyway... that was the inspiration for this. And it led to more things rather organically.