Chapter 15

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He had not seen Elena at breakfast. Most of the students were abuzz as they prepared to board the train back to Kings Cross. Her usual spot at the Ravenclaw table was notably empty. As the plates for the morning meal Vanished, he murmured, "I'm headed to the library," to the Slytherins beside him.

"The train leaves soon," said Nott.

He nodded, but made his way out of the Great Hall and toward the library anyway. It was possible she had decided to get some last-minute research done for the work due in the new year; Elena had mentioned wanting a head-start on their assignments, to which Nott had replied that his family had a wonderful private library of their own. She had not seemed assuaged.

The library was empty barring the librarian herself, who scowled at his disarming smile. It transformed to grimace as the door shut. He eyed the stairs and began his climb toward Ravenclaw Tower. The girl would pay for making him ascend so many unnecessary steps. His only reprieve was when he caught one of the Ravenclaw prefects about to enter.

"Wait," he called. The fifth year spun to face him, lighting up with a smile. "Could you possibly do me a favor and fetch Elena Vablatsky for me?"

Her face fell a touch, but she nodded and said, "Sure," before continuing on her way.

Tom leaned against the wall beside the door, neatening his hair and surveying his clothes to assure it hadn't wrinkled on his journey. Contrary to popular belief, he actually had to wake every morning and prep himself to look this perfect; he didn't wake with gelled hair and starched collars. Granted, he'd learned a few domestic charms to ease the process, but that was beside the point.

He ran a hand over the smooth planes of his jaw, checking for errant stubble. He hadn't needed to shave until last year, but it was already tedious. However, he would rather get rid of all of it permanently than allow it grow into a mass with life of its own, like a certain professor seemed inclined to.

Actually, going hairless wasn't a bad idea. While it would hardly look ideal, it would make certain potions far more difficult for enemies. As it was, Tom's looks were a means to an end; with enough power, he couldn't care less whether people thought he was handsome, and there would always be women attracted to power willing to tend his needs. He'd noted certain... changes after the incident with the Warren girl, though he doubted anyone else could see it. He was paler, though he'd always been fair, and his skin was cooler. He fancied himself becoming more serpentine, and the notion wasn't displeasing at all. Perhaps at the end of his current journey his appearance would inspire followers for reasons other than human appreciation for beauty.

A subtle creaking beside him alerted him to the opening of the door. Elena's cobalt gaze met his, then flicked down.

"And the prodigal daughter returns. You weren't at breakfast. It wouldn't do to start a journey on an empty stomach," he said, granting her the full force of his dark eyes. She had the grace to look abashed, fidgeting before him with her face down-turned. "Well? Where is your trunk? I'd expected you to bring it with you."

His suspicions were confirmed when she said in an apologetic tone, "I've decided not to go."

One dark brow rose, his eyes flashing red as he leaned in toward her. "You've decided?" he repeated, voice flat. As she began to tug her bottom lip into her mouth, he laid his hand against her cheek and pulled it between thumb and forefinger. "You seem to be forgetting, pet, that I've already made the decision for you." His grip tightened, one fingernail digging into the wet membrane of her mouth. You will go back to your dormitory and pack immediately. You will meet Nott and I here in half an hour, and we will escort you to the train, where the three of us will share a compartment. You will stay at the Nott home until we visit your parents for their New Years Eve soiree. I organized this entire farce out of the kindness of my heart, and you will not give me cause to regret it. Will you?"

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