Darkness and Devotion - A Tom Riddle Story

The Prison

"Would you rather have a pet dragon or a pet basilisk?" Mattheo asked with a mouth full of pastry.

The table of third-years echoed "dragon" while Evelyn thought to herself that the Basilisk—which Tom had finally taken her to see last after the Death Eater was dead and disposed of—was a rather well-behaved beast. She, at least, would listen to orders and be less likely to burn her to death. 

However, if Evelyn had to sit at this table for much longer, listening to thirteen-year-olds debate hypothetical questions like their lives depended on it before betting each other to do the most asinine of tasks, she might have taken the dragon.

This aptly described breakfast with Mattheo.

"Oh! I've got one. Would you rather be burned to death by a dragon or forced to spend an hour at Weaselbee's hovel?" 

A chorus of "Ew's" sounded around the table before the boys all agreed that the dragon was a better alternative than a minute with the blood traitors. Evelyn didn't really know the Weasley's that well. Charlie was four years older than her and while she thought he was more handsome than his siblings, she didn't particularly care for his existence either way. Percy was in her year and he was the most insufferable git she had ever encountered. So clearly, she barely knew the family nor did she care to.

"I've got one," a voice in her head purred. "Would you, my darling, rather be fucked in the Chamber or our bedroom upon your return?" She didn't miss the way he called it "our" bedroom; he'd been calling it that ever since he caught the follower last week. Evelyn also didn't miss the way her thighs clenched together just from the sound of his voice.

"How am I going to go a week without you?" A week. A long, awful, horrible week without him. A week of being forced to be with her grandparents again—because staying at Hogwarts made them look bad and appearances were more important than anything. A week of avoiding her grandmother's eyes in hopes that she could avoid the beater's stick for just one night out of seven. A week of being surrounded by holiday celebrations that she couldn't partake in, reminded of the fact that she never had a real family.

Tom and Mattheo were spending the holidays at his apartment in London. Mattheo tried to invite her but Evelyn shot him down quickly. Her grandparents would never escape an opportunity to get their granddaughter in their claws and remind her of just how worthless she was. To even ask to go to London would mean risking a night of pain and she wasn't ready to take that risk, not yet.

"You forget, Little Dove, that I can still meet you in your dreams. I just hope that you're prepared for very long nights."

"I might have to change my sheets when I wake up." Because they would be soaked if she spent a night with Tom, even if that night was really only in her head.

The thought saddened her. She wasn't ready to leave Tom and yet there she was, eating breakfast with her packed trunk beside her, waiting to go back to the train. Her grandparents would receive her at King's Cross station with a stern look and sharp grip on her forearm before apparating her back to the estate where she would spend seven days avoiding their eyes. The good news? It had been snowing nonstop for three days so she wouldn't be able to escape and go to her father's grave.

"Darling," Tom cooed, seeming to know where her thoughts had drifted off. "You will be fine. I have vowed to protect you, have I not? So relax and enjoy the snowy holiday. I will see you in a week when we can go to the little dance and fuck for hours afterward."

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a threat." 

She smiled to herself and looked down at her half-eaten breakfast.