Deal with the Devil

Chapter 28

Elena was the envy of most of Hogwarts' female population, and some of the male as well. She was Tom Riddle's sweetheart, and he was the most perfect boyfriend a girl could have. That's what the girls in her dormitory told her several times over. They thought it sweet that he would venture into another House common room to meet her in the mornings, that he would walk her to her classes even if it wasn't one they shared (there were few of those), and he would escort her to the library to study, and back to her dormitory in the evenings.

He kissed her forehead affectionately and would brush a light kiss to her lips every evening before bidding her goodnight. Any time the two were together, he had a hand on her— around her waist, by her knee, holding her own hand. He'd briefly dated other girls before, but never had they seen him so loving before. It was the height of romance.

It was her eighteenth birthday, and one of her dormmates had swept in to tell her Tom was awaiting her downstairs. He had flowers, of all things, and had asked the girl if she would please let Elena know that he was hoping they could go to Hogsmeade and spend the day together, just the two of them. The dark-haired girl had sighed, a hand curled over her chest at the romance of it all.

Elena had been enjoying a new book, had planned to spend her day that way. However, she knew better than to keep Tom waiting. She checked that the charm on her hair still held, grabbed her cloak, and set downstairs.

A slow smile bloomed across his face when Elena came near. He stood from his seat, pushing in his chair, and took her hand in his as he met her. "Happy birthday, sweetheart," he said, pulling her into an embrace.

She could smell the clean scent of his soap, and his sweater was soft against her cheek. She pulled back as soon as he would allow.

"These are for you." He held a bouquet with pink snapdragons, white roses, and a small flower that came in yellow, red, and orange. "Nasturtium," he said as she stroked one of the petals. She nodded, staring down at the flowers rather than addressing him.

"Those are so beautiful, Elena," came a voice behind her. It was her dormmate, who had decided to watch the romantic moment between the two.

"Er, yes," Elena agreed. "Thank you, Tom. I should— go put these in something, I think." She stepped back, but his hand did not release her.

"I could do that for you!" said the eager brunette.

Tom beamed at her. "Would you? That's so kind." He pulled out a single white rose and handed the rest of the bouquet to the waiting girl, who darted away as though she'd been given a secret treasure. "Here, doll." Tom stroked the rose against her cheek, and she grabbed it, wincing when she realized there were thorns. He was smiling at the reaction.

Elena inspected her finger, but there was no blood; she'd just have to be more careful.

"Shall we?" the young man said, offering he arm. She nodded and laid her right hand on the inside of his bicep, letting him lead them out of the castle and toward the village.

"White roses," she said as they trekked past the gates. "Those mean something specific, don't they?"

"All flowers do," Tom conceded.

"Innocence?" Elena guessed, and he nodded as though he were pleased with her.

"Do you know what else?" At her slight shake of the head, he said, "Secrecy."

"Oh." She considered this, then asked, curiosity getting the better of her, "What about the others?"

His free hand danced over her fingers. "Snapdragons also have more than one meaning. Gracious Lady," he said as he stroked his index finger down hers. "Or deception." She shuddered. "And the last flower, nasturtium, means conquest."