Deal with the Devil

Chapter 41

Elena was taking a risk by coming here. It was the first day she'd been able to completely slip away from Tom and had freedom to leave for a few hours. The man had slowly been taking over her life. While she was slowly nearing the end of her work time with him, he'd been insinuating himself in every other part. She could hardly step into the office without questions about that "nice young fella of hers." Only Ignatius Prewitt had any disinclination toward him.

After her meeting with Dolohov, she'd realized she had no hope of getting away from Tom without help. He was slowly collecting men from the most powerful wizarding families. She'd seen how easy it was for him; Elena had accompanied him to informal events and formal alike as he eased men into his circle. Regulus Black had been introduced to him via Edgar and the man had instantly taken to the young dark lord, introducing him to the head of the noble house. The Rookwood man approved Tom's views and she was sure he'd be one of the next to take the Mark. He was setting himself up for something, and she doubted it was as innocent as becoming Minister of Magic.

This was an act of desperation. It had been more than a year, but she knew her way through the castle by heart. Up staircases, down halls. She had owled the man only hours before, so she knew he would be there. Her steps were oddly lonely echoing off the walls, but it was summer. There were no students. Dumbledore was the deputy headmaster and preparing to take over in autumn, so he was there still. She stopped outside his office, hesitant. This was it. There would be no going back if she entered.

Elena took a breath, slowly released it, and rapped sharply on the wooden door.

"Come in," came the friendly response, and she stepped into the office, shutting the door behind herself. "Elena, thank you for meeting with me today." His eyes still retained that strange piercing quality, but Albus Dumbledore looked aged, a heavy feat for a wizard she'd seen a year prior. There were more greys in his auburn hair and beard. He was sitting away from his desk where there were two squashy purple chairs, a coffee table and tea service centered between them.

"Professor." She deftly lowered herself into the chair, smoothing her hands over her skirt.

"Tea?" She nodded but wrung her hands rather than speak. The teapot rose and poured well-steeped tea into the porcelain cup that matched nothing else on the table. She added the cream and sugar herself then held the cup between nervous hands. "I would ask how you are, my dear, but I can see the answer before my eyes, so I'll not make you speak false niceties." Elena nodded again. "I'm assuming— please correct me if I am wrong— that the reason you've asked to speak with me is related to our last conversation." Another nod and she stared down at the teacup, watching the ripples in the water from her shaking. "Elena."

She looked up at him and his eyes were so kind it almost broke her. Remembering how she'd collapsed into Dolohov days ago, she tried to pull herself together.

"Are you afraid of telling me?" He smiled softly. "I've had my suspicions about him for quite some time. I'm the one who told him about magic, you know. Even as an eleven-year-old boy, there was darkness in him. I wanted so badly for him to be the smart, charming boy everyone saw, but certain events, and I'm sure you know which, put to bed that hope. I have been unable to move forward with what I guess, and whatever you tell me, unless you choose to come forward as well, I will still be unable. But I can promise you that I will help you in whatever way I can."

Elena set down the tea and she fingered the scar on her chest. Tom purposely hadn't healed it and he'd left more on her body since.

"Did he do that, Elena?" At yet another nod, he gave a small sound of sorrow. "I'd hoped his apparent fondness for you would preclude his violence."

She huffed out one harsh laugh. "Quite the opposite, I'm afraid." Elena sat there for a moment trying to compose herself again and Dumbledore let her. She sipped at her tea finally, rearranged herself. "I want to leave him," she said at last, meeting his stricken gaze. "I don't know how."

Her former professor contemplated her. "What does he have on you?"

"Less now than he did." She thought through the story of her entanglement with Tom Riddle and wondered how to explain it all. "It's complicated."

"Tell me as much or as little as you will."

Another sip. "I've started using my real surname again. It's Mullens, not Vablatsky." He seemed unsurprised, but he was Albus Dumbledore. "I am Cassandra Vablatsky's illegitimate daughter by a muggle and she left me with him until her marriage threatened to collapse for lack of a child. When she told her husband about me, he agreed to meet me. My da was sick. I didn't want to leave him, but they offered treatment the muggle world couldn't. All I had to do was play the perfect daughter for them. And, well..." Only Tom and some of Death Eaters knew so much about her. "I have my mother's— the Sight. Tom found out and he decided to entrap me, threatening to reveal the lie and thus end my father's treatment with it should I not share my, er, prophecies with him."

Dumbledore was listening intently, somehow without judgement.

"When forced to visit my family that holiday season, Tom came with me. This was a kindness. I." Her eyes flittered away from his, throat tightening. "I was being abused by my mother's husband." Her gaze flicked toward him to gage his reaction, but other than a tightening of his brows, there was nothing. "Tom realized I was hiding something from him and figured it out. He went with me to threaten him, her husband. It worked. And the illusion of us dating suited Tom's purpose so he insisted we keep the charade going."

"When did his mistreatment of you begin?"

"He'd only cursed me once at school. Himself, that is. It was a punishment for – well, it doesn't matter. When I graduated, I tried to keep myself separate from him, but in April I had no more choice in the matter. It was May before he finally managed to—" she gestured at herself then listlessly let her hand fall back into her lap. "When he tires of me, he wants to marry me off to one of his minions."

"Why haven't you come forward?"

"It would incriminate me in things he's done, and I wouldn't be able to care for my da anymore. He's in a home now but it's expensive. I work hard to keep him there." Dumbledore nodded. "I'm not sure it would work anyway; he's gaining power, has the backing of many influential men." Elena rubbed her temple. "I feel so hopeless."

"If there is no point in you moving forward, then he has no threat over you as well."

She shook her head. "He could get me fired, ostracized. Could track down da. He has my blood, so I can't escape him. I have no power here, professor."

He reached over with one leathery hand as if to take hers, then thought better of it. Grief filled his eyes and he curled his fingers into a light fist. Elena reluctantly held her own out, palm up and he smiled at her, taking it. "You are never completely powerless so long as you have hope. I know you have little now, but I'm with you. We will figure this out together."

Tightness she hadn't realized sat in her chest released just a tad, and she breathed, leaning back in the chair and taking comfort in the weight of the professor's hand in hers. Albus Dumbledore was a great man, one of the most powerful wizards alive. He was going to help her. She would get away. Everything would work out.

"Thank you."