Deal with the Devil

Chapter 37

It had been a few weeks and Elena had only gotten through about half Borgin and Burke's ledgers. Every morning she reported to her work anything she'd found the day before, did some paperwork, then headed to the shop where Tom would allow her to work whilst he touched her possessively. At some point he always pulled her away. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they snogged (rather, he snogged her, not that he seemed to mind the lack of reciprocation). He hadn't cursed her since the Cruciatus that first day, but she knew better than to think he wouldn't should Elena give him a reason.

She also exchanged letters with Theodorus. They'd met on a Sunday for tea as well, and he'd expressed his sorrow that she'd been pulled back into Tom's dark world. "I'd hoped you were gone somewhere he couldn't find you, that you'd gotten away."

"If only..."

Dolohov also wrote her, asking her to tea, to lunch, to dinner, to a social event or anything really. She kept in mind what Tom had said, though the brooding man was always so polite, never perturbed by her gentle rejections.

It was a rainy Thursday morning that she opened the door to her tiny apartment upstairs from a little shop a kind old apothecary owned to find Tom leaning against the wall with nary a hair out of place.

"What are you doing here?"

He proffered a steaming cup toward her which she found was tea with a touch of cream and sugar just as she liked it, then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. He'd broken her of turning away from his affections, so only the slightest hint of displeasure crossed her face. "I have the morning free, so I thought I'd be a gentleman and escort you to work."

"Oh." Elena took his arm and he cast an Impervius charm on them before they stepped out into the rain. "It's not a long walk, seeing as there's an apparition point right outside of work," she told him.

"You'll just have to side-along me," he said, smirking. He knew she wouldn't decline, and she knew it as well. It took only a moment for them to reach where she usually apparated from.

"It's that office," she gestured with her warm cup. When she attempted to remove herself from him, he pulled her along.

"I'd hardly be much of a gentleman if I didn't escort you all the way," he insisted. He opened the door for her, arching his brow at her reluctance. She sighed and went through.

"'Morning, Elle," the receptionist said. "Who's this?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Little, this is my friend Tom."

"Tom Riddle, pleasure," he said, and the older woman blushed like a schoolgirl.

Elena resisted the urge to roll her eyes and continued to her desk. She had In and Out trays, a pile of paperwork on her desk that was somewhere in between, and a few little odds and ends. Tom plucked the one picture frame and studied the photo of her leaning in to give a small older man a kiss on an unshaved cheek. Based on the sickly thinness and the kind, wide eyes, this was her father. As she bestowed the gesture on him, he pulled her in tight with a grin. She loved the photo; her father was so much livelier when he smiled.

She grabbed the papers in the In tray and sorted through them. Most of them were memos and could be discarded upon reading.

"Is Mullens here?" boomed Edgar from his office.

"Yes, boss," she called out. His heavy footsteps preceded his arrival, and he clapped her on the back with enthusiasm she would have found irritating had Edgar not been so likeable.

"Elle, how are you this fine morning— oh, and who's this young man?"

"Tom Riddle, sir," said the young man, extending a hand while a disarming smile graced his face. "I had the morning off, so thought it would be pleasant to escort Elena to work. We don't get to spend as much time together since we graduated."