Tom stalled in the hallway as his Deliciae walked purposefully into the room, his eyes fixed on the sway of her hips in that delicious dressing gown.

Erus wasn't quite the 'my Lord' he sometimes allowed himself the fantasy of imagining her crying out in pleasure beneath him, but it certainly had a special charm to it all the same. A very rare genuine smile pushed its way onto his countenance before he forcefully pulled his face out of the expression.

Now was not the time.

Shaking his head to clear the more lecherous and strangely content thoughts from his mind, Tom inhaled deeply and moved to follow his wife into the room. It was time to focus on the matter at hand; the curious and irritating situation where Corvus Avery may have willfully signed his own death warrant with an inadvisable amount of flair.

The familiar scent of blood hung heavy in the room as he watched Hermione rush to the other woman's side, flicking her wand frantically as she cast diagnostics and murmured to herself. Epona appeared to have fallen unconscious in the brief time since Gilmy moved her to the guest bedroom, which suited Tom's purposes just fine. He desired an unbiased assessment before he was forced to listen to the woman's grating, albeit inevitable, wailing.

The soft sound of his wife's muttering reached his ears once more and his eyes flashed back to focus on her.

"Aloud, little Gaza," Tom interrupted smoothly, settling his back against the dresser where he lounged comfortably. He crossed his legs in front of him and allowed his hands to settle in his pockets as she froze momentarily with her wand still poised over Epona to glance back at him quizzically. "I'd like to be kept apprised of your findings as they are made."

With a minute nod, his Deliciae turned fully back to the bed with her curls whipping around wildly behind her in tune with her frantic movements before she resumed her work.

"Mild concussion, hours old," she said, smoothing her hand over Epona's forehead with a wince before continuing down the woman's body. "Few actively bleeding wounds at this time. Blood loss moderate, primarily from the application of some sort of cursed knife. Evidence of multiple curse and jinx use..."

Hermione trailed off as she flicked her wand again, causing a number of lights and symbols to float off of the woman's chest like smoke. Her eyes narrowed and her magic began to pulse in the air dangerously as she read the results aloud.

"Cruciatus and Imperius, as well as a Silencio, to muffle any screaming," she stated through gritted teeth, glancing down at the woman sprawled on the bed with tears beginning to form in her eyes. Tom's chest pulsed uncomfortably and he grimaced in annoyance as he reached a hand up to smooth over the ache. "Alarte Ascendare and Everte Statum as opposed to more muggle means of physical violence and abuse, though that was used as well."

He watched as his Gaza swallowed before closing her eyes and inhaling deeply a few times in an attempt to calm herself. The pain in his chest ebbed and he smiled slightly at her success.

The fact that his wife was becoming more adept at controlling her emotions was quite a boon to him, especially when one considered that her poor moods caused his solar plexus to quite literally ache.

"Ultimately, the wounds will need to be mended and dittany needs to be applied to keep scarring to a minimum," Hermione said finally, allowing her eyes to open as she glanced at him with a pained expression on her face. "I also need to heal her wrist, which has a number of hairline fractures and deal with the sprain to her left knee. Then we can wake her up."

Tom nodded before flicking his wand into his hand from his forearm holster.

"Anima Revelare," he murmured, watching with very little surprise as a ghost of the countenance of Corvus Avery shimmered in the air above Epona's body. Hermione's gasp of surprise brought his eyes back to her and he smiled coldly.

"A spell to reveal the soul that cast a spell, or spells, in this case," he explained. "Fairly dark in nature and largely unknown."

"Gilmy," Tom called, waiting until the little creature popped into the room with bowed head and nervous fingers picking at her pillow case. "You have my permission to access the cabinet in the potion's lab and retrieve the following: Essence of Dittany, Murtlap Essence, and Star Grass Salve, as well as Blood-Replenishing Potion and a Calming Draught."

The elf apparated out of the room quickly and he glanced over to where his wife was now seated on the bed, running gentle fingers through the blood matted hair of Epona Avery.

"I'll leave you to heal her, Gaza," he began, smirking when her head whipped around to glare at him. He watched her open her mouth to scold him for his refusal to aide her in her occupation but cut her off before she could speak.

"That is still technically the Lady Avery, a member of pureblood society with all of the privileges and protections that entails," Tom stated, moving to stand and take a few steps towards the hallway. "It would be highly inappropriate for me to see her in any state of undress, and as she will need to be cleaned and offered unsoiled clothing, undress is rather an inevitability. Furthermore, I should think you in all of your compassion and mercy would consider that a male presence without warning might do her more psychological harm than good."

He paused at the hallway, glancing over his shoulder at his wife. Hermione's lips were pursed in annoyance but she sighed in resignation at the logic of his argument and waved a dismissive hand at him that had Tom's lips quirking up at one side even as irritation flashed up his spine.

"I suppose Gilmy is more than sufficient to aide me," she stated quietly, moving to stand and tie her dressing gown more securely.

"Indeed," he agreed, "And do be sure to send the elf to alert me as soon as Epona is conscious and capable of conversation. I would not normally be called upon to attend a person's bedside, but considering her injuries and the time constraints that are currently in place, it seems I will be forced to make an exception."

His Gaza bit her lip and glanced back at the woman lying bloodied on the bed. "Can't your interrogations wait, Tom?" she asked. "She's been through an awful lot in the past few hours."

"No, they cannot," Tom stated dismissively, moving to leave the room entirely. At the sound of outrage behind him, he sighed, closing his eyes in annoyance before turning around once more.

"I implore you to use that beautiful brain of yours, Deliciae," he said with an air of exasperation. "If Corvus is responsible for the Lady Avery's state, and the spell I utilized has determined this to be the case, the man must be dealt with swiftly and with purpose. He has the means and mind to attempt to flee, fight, or employ any number of other tactics. While they would ultimately be fruitless, as he is marked, the task of countering his efforts could prove tedious and time-consuming. Meanwhile, we are unaware of the details of his bonding with Epona and how his absence or actions may affect her. It is necessary that I have the facts as soon as possible that I may deal with him efficiently and without the wasting of additional resources, not only for my own gratification but for your little project's sake as well."

His little wife's jaw clenched and she huffed but she offered him a stiff nod and turned back to her patient.

Tom grinned as he left the room and walked with purpose towards his study. It was always so delicious to watch her sort out whether to address the veiled insult in his words or concede to the logic. It's not as if he actually believed his Deliciae to be anything but stunningly brilliant; on the contrary, the depths of her intellect were a rival even to his and that was an impressive fact indeed. Too often, however, she still allowed her emotions to over-rule her pragmaticism and he hoped to one day reverse that.

If he couldn't stamp out her sentimentality entirely in favor of logical thought, he could at least teach her the proper order in which to acknowledge those dual impulses.

His wife, however, was not his main concern at the moment.

Despite the hour, Tom crossed the wards barring his study to anyone but him and moved to the wet bar that held his fire whiskey. He poured himself a glass as he pondered what, precisely, he was going to do with the unruly, disobedient Avery Heir.

Settling in his favorite dragon skin armchair in front of the fire, he allowed the liquid to burn its way into his chest as he stared into the flames.

This was precisely why he never limited the hobbies or extra-curricular impulses of his inner circle. Admittedly, Avery was not a part of the original Knights but he had worked his way up through his willingness to wade through the blood and bile of any Tom ordered him to. He was useful and predictable if not altogether innovative or self-starting.

The Dark Lord had seen his niched value and had intended to keep him.

Limiting the man's freedoms had now resulted in a quandary Tom really should have foreseen. Avery was impulsive and lacked forethought, so it was truly just a matter of time before Epona did something that threatened what he saw as his dominance in his own home and Corvus responded in a manner he deemed necessary. He was like a toddler who had been denied a favorite toy but forced to see it on an unreachable shelf every single moment of his days; a tantrum of epic magnitude was a foregone conclusion.

Tom grimaced as he took another sip of the alcohol; yet, regardless of Avery's more obvious deficiencies, a part of him had truly believed the man was at a minimum intelligent enough not to defy a direct order from his Lord. Impulse control issues aside, Corvus had not appeared to be particularly suicidal.

Obviously, Tom had overestimated him.

However, despite whatever difficulties came from being denied the freedom to beat one's wife into submission, it was not Epona's deference to her husband that was any of Tom's concern or interest; his purview was in Corvus's submission to him and the Death Eater had failed him.

Failure was unacceptable.

The question was, exactly how useful did he find the Avery Heir? Could he afford to lose Corvus as a resource?

Corvus's father was still alive and likely would be for many more years. The man, however, had retired to France and expressed little to no interest in politics. If pressed, Tom was sure he could count on his support, but the elder was ultimately irrelevant.

The younger son, Amon Avery, who was the next in line to be heir should something... unfortunate befall Corvus was, put quite simply, a moron. The man lacked any intelligence at all and spent most of his time drinking and fucking his way through Britain.

Amon was more useless to Tom than his father was. Moreover, the Avery family themselves did not bring anything to the table that could not be found in much greater quantity within the Malfoys, the Notts, or the Blacks. Although Sacred 28, Avery influence and wealth paled in comparison to the other families he owned. It was also worth noting that while Corvus remained only an heir, Abraxas and Livius were the heads of their family and Orion was the patriarch in practice, if not in title.

There was also the matter of Corvus Avery Jr's betrothal to one of the many Black sisters to consider. One did not break a cradle betrothal without paying a price, and every agreement that had been done so far had been made with an eye towards keeping the power that the Death Eater's were building within their own sphere. Who would the younger Avery grow to be without his father keeping him within Death Eater influence? What of the Black girl if she married outside their circle instead?

Tom tilted his head as he swirled the liquid inside his glass in thought. Perhaps he should ask his little wife who these children grew to be before deciding if their loss was a factor at all. If they were magically weak, they were unimportant considerations from the start.

Resolving that more information was required, Tom swallowed the last of his drink and rose. A quickly cast 'dies' determined that he had left Hermione and Gilmy to their task only an hour ago and he likely had a bit more time before they would seek him out. There was business to attend to this day that did not involve the unexpected, pitiable arrival of a society lady draped in gore.

Crossing to his desk, Tom wrote out a quick missive to the Mouseling, demanding his presence that evening at Nidum Serpentis. Tom wasn't entirely sure if he, himself, was going to be available but he found that he was not bothered by the thought of Dolohov waiting fruitlessly for his arrival.

He did intend, of course, to be here to greet the other man. There was the small matter of shredding Antonin's mind in search of any buried attraction to his Deliciae that needed to be attended to, not to mention the necessity of forcing the Mouseling into a vow to never reveal his Gaza's true origins.

The quill broke into pieces beneath his tightened grip and Tom dropped his head to his chest as he released a heavy breath through his nose. Merlin, how he despised sharing. His little wife should be his alone; his to engage in discourse, his to debate with, his to fuck into mindless submission when she would not cease disagreeing with him. She was his to know, his to hold; his to own and his to treasure.

He tightened his jaw as he swallowed back the curse the welled inside his chest at the thought of her growing relationship with Antonin. It's not as if the man was here to receive the curse anyway, and regardless, he'd never hear the end of it from his Gaza were he to act of the impulse.

Summoning a fresh quill, he finished the note with barely restrained vitriol and set it aside to give to Gilmy to owl. While he maintained three such creatures for the purpose, he had no interest in their care and left them to their own company in an owlery at the back of the property.

His next correspondence was to the owner of Borgins and Burkes, pushing the much-anticipated meeting with Madam Smith to the beginning of January. When he had been informed that he was finally to meet with the woman, he had almost dropped his latest acquisition in a very unlordly moment of visceral excitement. He was, after all, only maintaining his work long enough to get the founder's items before turning his full focus to the management of his Death Eaters and the attainment of his goals.

However, with the news of Corvus's idiotic dissention, the necessity to sort out Dolohov, and Tom's unyielding craving to begin work on the stone, Hepzibah's treasures were going to have to wait.

He was sealing the final missive when Gilmy popped into this study with her eyes averted to her bare feet.

"Missy Mione be sendings Gilmy," she squeaked tentatively. "The Lady Averys is being awakes."

"Noted," he said distractedly, gathering the other letter and thrusting them both into her waiting arms impatiently. "See to it that those are mailed out immediately and then feel free to resume your day."

"Thank yous, Master," the creature said with a bow, disappearing into the air as Tom strode through the door of his study and out into the hallway. His feet carried him quickly to the spare bedroom where he had left the women and though he did not wait for permission, he did knock lightly before entering.

As he crossed the threshold, he was greeted with his wife's back as she silently gathered potions bottles and spare bandages into a tidy bundle with a few small flicks of her wand. Epona was seated upright against the headboard of the bed, looking pale but freshly healed and washed. She was wearing a set of loose-fitting, pale blue silk robes he recognized as belonging to his Gaza.

"Little wife," Tom greeted as he moved to the foot of the bed, "and the Lady Avery. I trust you are-"

He ceased talking abruptly as Epona pitched herself from the bed and landed on the opposite side floor of where Hermione was working. At the thud of her body hitting wood, his wife gasped and dropped the entirety of the gathered rubbish with a shattering of glass, moving swiftly to round the bed and help her back up. Tom got there first however, sidestepping around the end until his eyes fell on the other woman's form.

He stalled there in front of Epona, catching his wife around the waist and pulling her backwards into his chest when she tried to run around him and towards the prone figure.

"Tom, what are you-" she began incredulously, but he calmly placed a palm over her mouth as he watched the woman move stiffly until she lay prostrate before him.

Hermione struggled momentarily but stilled as Epona did, eyes widening in confusion as the woman before them lay quietly.

"Speak, Lady Avery," Tom said softly, tilting his head in inquiry as he eyed the figure at his feet.

"Remember, my most gracious Lord, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession was left unaided," Epona began weakly.

Tom's eyebrow rose and the corner of his mouth began to curl. While the words were not strictly true, the woman in front of him was certainly clever. Yes, he supposed it could be said that he had offered her protection and the shelter of his magic when he ordered her safety from the hands of her husband. While the supplication she had chosen to invoke was one usually used to implore the aid of the gods, not men, that simply added to the allure of the petition.

Old Magic she called on, true, but he had made no commitments to her as of yet. Perhaps a tentative offer could be considered to have been made, but he held the power to reject her now with no ill consequences to himself. Were he to accept, however, Tom would be compelled to aide her in exchange for her devotion and fealty.

He was self-aware enough to acknowledge the choice to address him as divine stroked his ego even whilst he enjoyed the stroking. His Gaza brought her fingers to the hand that still covered her lips and after a glance at her to be sure of her silence, he allowed her to pull his palm down to rest on her chest instead.

"Inspired with this confidence, I turn to you, my Lord," Epona continued, her words soft and wheezing, but filled with certainty none the less. "To you I come, before you I kneel, with nothing else to offer but all of me. I beg you, do not despise my petition, but in your mercy hear and answer me."

Silence filled the room as Tom regarded the prone form in front of him, considering the options available to him. He gently pushed his wife to the side, stepping forward to kneel inches from the crown of Epona's head whilst he studied her curiously.

"Are you not afraid, Lady Avery," he asked coldly, "to put yourself under the thumb of not one, but two masters?"

She flinched from his words, but when she answered, her voice was strong and sure.

"It is my hope, my Lord, that one such master will not live out the day," she said, spitting the word 'master' with almost physical venom. "I have lived under the thumb, as you put it, of a man who enjoys nothing so much as to consume my raw anguish. I am prepared to trade one devil for another if the other gives me at least a chance of pleasing him."

She glanced up at him then, terror and determination and yearning almost a literal presence on her skin. "Save me and I will be your ever-devoted servant, from this day to my last."

"Do you believe you have more to offer me than your husband?" Tom asked curiously.

Hermione made a noise of discontent from behind him but thankfully kept her own council as Epona dropped her head once more.

"Corvus is but a mad crup who is barely chained," she said quietly. "He is easily replaced, for how difficult is it to find a man who revels in decay and blood and whose loyalty can be bought? That is all you have in Corvus. I may not be as strong nor as vicious, but I will never be swayed or bought. I will never question an order. I will live and die by your will and your command, my Lord. This I so swear."

Tom glanced back at his wife, watching as she yanked on the hem of her dressing gown nervously and bit her lip until it looked moments away from bleeding. She seemed torn on whether she wished for him to accept this offer and it was no small wonder why. This was not to be an equitable trade.

Epona offered herself as slave to him and in return, he would be responsible for her up to the extent he chose. If he accepted her supplication, she would be safe from her husband, but she would always live under his heel and his whims, more so than any of his followers. Her livelihood would be tied to his pleasure with her performance and a harsh word from him could cut her down in an instant.

It would be a horrible life, a half-life, and the thought of it was, frankly, distasteful; even to him. That being said, were it not for the distress pulsing in his chest, he would likely accept the offer. What concern of it was his if the woman was moronic or desperate enough to make such poor agreements? His Gaza, however, clearly viewed this woman as some sort of pet and Epona's defeat would clearly hurt her.

That was not an acceptable outcome.

His focus strayed back to the woman in front of his shoes as he rose back to his full height and took a small step backwards. Epona made a desperate, wounded sound at his retreat, but he ignored it.

"Rise, Lady Avery," Tom demanded, not stopping Hermione when she rushed around him to help her do so. Epona slumped against his wife, desolation evident in every nerve of her body as she settled woozily on her feet. His Gaza settled her arm around Epona's waist and moved to help her into the bed, placing her once more with her back against the headboard.

"What is the nature of your bonding with Corvus?" Tom asked coldly, watching as hope flashed tentatively across the woman's face once more.

"Aevitus Adstringo," Epona breathed, reaching a hand up to clutch at her ribs that were no doubt aching after her escapade. "I am bound tightly, but I will be free when I die."

"Or when he does," his Deliciae murmured viciously, arranging the pillows behind the other woman with fury filled precision that made a grin Tom was unable to suppress spread across his face.

"I offer you this, Lady Selwyn," he said, and it was lost on no one in the room when he called her by her maiden name. "You may take your husband's place in the Death Eaters as recompense for his loss and have all of the protections and privileges that grants you; no more and no less. You will remarry a person of my choosing and the betrothal contract between your son and the Black Family will remain in place."

He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his temple briefly as he considered what, precisely, he was going to do with this magically weak woman. Perhaps her determination to please him would outweigh her deficit in that arena.

"I will find some use for you, I am sure," he finished with barely concealed annoyance.

Tom's lashes fluttered open when he felt his Deliciae press her delicious body to his own, wrapping her arms around his waist and clinging to him as she slowly released a breath into the fabric of his shirt. He buried his fingers in her hair and pulled her face into his neck as he kept his eyes on the woman sitting frozen in the bed in front of him.

Finally, Epona seemed to pull herself from her shock long enough to bow her head, tears streaming down her face as her chest rose and fell with hiccupping sobs. Tom bit back his distaste at the sight, choosing to focus on the witch in his arms instead.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said quietly.

He did not acknowledge her, instead burying his nose in the curls of his Hermione's hair and allowing himself a moment to bathe himself in the waves of her appreciation rolling through their bond via the empathy entreaty.

Epona and her gratitude mattered very, very little; his little wife's, however...

Tom forced his face to stay impassive even as his Deliciae pressed small, thankful kisses to his throat. Eventually, however, the necessity for work to be done forced him to tighten his fingers in the strands of her hair and pull her delicious lips away from his neck.

"Avery Villa is no longer your home," he said a bit hoarsely, still holding his wife in his arms while he watched over her shoulder as Epona nodded slowly. "I will not mark you until you are at full health, as it is a taxing process, but consider from this day forward that you are a member of the Death Eaters in an official capacity. Who in the organization do you wish to stay with until your husband is dealt with and a new marriage can be arranged?"

Epona bit her lip and glanced at the blanket in front of her before finally speaking.

"I wish to stay with Jocelend, my Lord," she said quietly. "She has always been kind to me and I think would be willing to allow myself and my son shelter for a time."

Hermione's head lifted quickly in a panic and she glanced behind her to stare at Epona.

"Where is Corvus Jr?!" she asked a bit frantically. "Is he in danger?"

"Oh no, I..." Epona trailed off before clearing her throat. "My house elf, Bodry- We have a system, he and I. Whenever Corvus would begin a rampage, Bodry would apparate with Corvus Jr to a pavilion in the woods on the east side of Avery lands and wait for me to call for him. The elf is bound to me, personally, since childhood and is loyal."

"Call for him when you reach Rosier Villa," Tom ordered, clasping his Gaza's wrist in his palm as he began to move towards the doorway. "Gilmy will see to any needs you may have before you exit the property, but leave quickly. I will not tolerate others in my home when neither my wife nor I am present."

With that, the pair of them left the woman in the guest room as Tom pulled his Deliciae down the hall and towards their bedchamber.

"You did that for me," Hermione said quietly as he pushed open the door and strode inside. He turned to her with a raised brow, releasing her wrist when she indicated her desire for him to do so.

His eyes followed her as she moved to stand in front of him, sliding her hands up his chest and along his shoulders where she allowed them to settle. Her mouth pressed against Tom's gently in a barely-there kiss that had him licking his lips to savor the taste of her when she moved her head away again.

"You did that for me," she repeated, and he sighed before giving her a curt nod.

"I did," he admitted wryly, aggravation and something unnamable, something unfamiliar roaring up his spine. It was softer than possession, deeper than protectiveness, and utterly unknown to his person. "Allowing Epona into my outer ranks is painful, Gaza. She is not particularly much of anything; not especially clever nor powerful nor having any niched, sadistic value."

"But you did it anyway, Erus," Hermione said softly, fingers tangling in the strands of his hair as she buried her face in his neck once more. "Because I wanted her safe; because it made me happy. Thank you."

He closed his eyes on a swallow, his throat moving under the gentle press of her mouth before he answered.

"It is my desire to possess every part of you," Tom breathed, biting back a groan when her teeth scraped against his flesh. "And as you are aware, I always get what I desire. It is to my pleasure to own your happiness as well."

Whatever was between them had changed, but as he had said before, Tom Riddle was not in the habit of denying himself what he wanted. If he wanted her joy, he'd have it and he intended to consume it with all the relish it so richly deserved.

"Come, Deliciae," he said, allowing his lips to pull into a smoldering and dangerous smirk as he moved back away from her. He reveled in the way his little wife's breath caught at the expression on his face before he gently pushed her towards their closet in a bid for her to dress.

"There is a situation that requires my immediate attention," Tom murmured as she moved to follow the implied directive. His face blanked and cooled as whatever defenses he dropped in his Gaza's presence shifted back into place.

A cold smile graced his lips as he turned away from her.

"Avery Villa and its Master await."

AN: I know some of you were hoping for torture and Corvus's punishment, but not to worry! It is upcoming. Also, Epona's petition is adapted from the Memorare, which is a Catholic Prayer to the Virgin Mary to implore her aid.