Deal with the Devil

Chapter 3

Elena Vablatsky, he'd decided, was burdened by her circumstances. She kept mostly to herself, though she had some casual friendships. She sat with the same girls (her dorm mates, Tom believed) at every meal, though she was usually reading, and would only comment once or twice per sitting. Her voice was soft, her accent unremarkable (her "parents" owned property in Scotland, England, and Poland, so that stood to reason), her manner unassuming. She rarely answered questions, did not style herself to current fashion. Overall, she did everything she could to avoid notice.

Tom was certain this was intentional, and tied to the many secrets Vablatsky held. He would have them all soon enough.

It was Friday and they were in Potions, a double period. Vablatsky was working on her own, as were roughly half of the students. Slughorn had allowed them the option of that or working in pairs, though he'd warned that he would give no leeway in grading to those who chose the former. Tom hadn't realized the girl was adept enough to work without a partner. She was nearing the end and her potion was the proper rosy pink it should be at that point. She was skimming the instructions in the book once more, referencing a few pages back and the appendix as well. He was at the same point— letting the potion simmer for four and a half minutes— and wondered what she might be doing.

He'd taken to watching her quite a bit lately, though he had yet to observe her in this particular class; their last potion had required a partner, and Rosier was a slouch in the subject, having needed Tom's assistance to make it this far in the past. He could never let the young man attempt anything on his own, and he was now partnered with Nott, to Avery's annoyance.

Her pale brown hair (he supposed it was technically blonde, but its shade was more the color of dark tea with milk than golden or yellow) was tied back in a sloppy knot, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth as often as not. That was her thinking face. Her brows knit together, she shook her head, glanced up at the potion. It was not quite at the four minute mark. Her dark blue eyes skittered toward Slughorn where he was chatting with Hornby, then back to her cauldron. She gathered the cacao beans laid out where her ingredients had all been, nudged one onto the floor, and hesitated just a hair before sprinkling the remainder over the shining surface. Another beat and she stirred.

Tom turned to prepare his own ingredients, eyes hardly drifting away from her, still studying from his periphery. How curious; she'd had the proper amount, but chosen to put in fewer. Moreover, she'd stirred about fifteen seconds late. It wasn't a great deviation, but just enough that her potion didn't deepen as much as it should have. It was a touch paler than his own deep, velvety red.

At the end of the class, when Slughorn made his rounds, he paused at hers a moment to consider. "This is so close, dear. Quite a good effort, but the shade is just off. Most definitely an Exceeds Expectations for your valiant effort," said the robust man, patting the small girl's back with a hand that was nearly as wide as she was.

Vablatsky's eyes were downcast, a soft, almost embarrassed smile on her face (no blush on her cheeks). "I don't know what I could have done wrong, professor. I was so sure..."

"Never fear, dear girl, your work is strong." The man beamed down at her, then removed his large palm from her back and moved on to Tom's table. "Now this!" he boasted as he neared. "This is perfection. You must have gotten the timing down to the precise second, a worthy feat indeed." Slughorn turned and invited the class forward with a sweeping motion. "Note, class, the depth of the red in the cauldron, the shadows of purple and black. This is a blood replenishing potion of highest quality. Good show, Tom!"

"Thank you, professor," murmured the young man. "I only followed the instructions you provided, and the knowledge you've imparted over the years."

"You are too modest."

Avery snickered across from him, his partner gently elbowing his side.

Beside Tom, Elena Vablatsky was smiling to herself.

--

It was dinner, and it was finally time for his plan to commence. Tom sat at the Slytherin table with most of his Knights beside him, though the seat beside Nott was empty of its usual occupant. Tom sipped at his pumpkin juice (a strange drink, but decidedly magical) and peered over the rim of his goblet to watch Avery flirt with the Ravenclaw who sometimes worked with Vablatsky at Potions. Weatherby? Wood? Something inconsequential. As was her habit, Elena's fair face was tucked into a book, cloth bound and so faded as for the title to be illegible. It was too easy for Alfred to slip something into her goblet.

He stayed there for a few minutes, flirting miserably while Nott pretended he was otherwise engaged in his meal. When he felt safe enough, the young man came back to his place and slid in beside his closest friend.

"Had fun?"

"Oh, shut it, Teddy. You know I didn't mean any of it," Avery responded.

The other boy huffed, but relaxed his shoulder to brush against Avery's.

Tom's attention was still focused at the table just beyond theirs, where the girl had just taken a sip of her water. She did not put it down right away, rather kept sipping as she paged through the book with her brows furrowed.

He sat back and smiled. Everything was going according to plan, then. When she'd finally endured enough chatter, she stood, book pressed to her chest, and headed toward the door. He knew where she would go.