Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and original characters you may notice as you read this chapter.
I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter, or any of the other chapters you may read from this installment. Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think.
September 24, 1943
Students rushed the halls to get to their classes at different paces. Gryffindor students were usually very merry and loud as they roamed into their classes: Ophelia noted they came in packs of three or five in many cases which was probably why they were so loud. Ravenclaw students power walked to all their classes with an air of urgency than excitement and would sometimes have thick textbooks that could have sustained heat for a muggle family for a whole winter. Her fellow Hufflepuffs, while not as loud as the Gryffindors, could be spotted laughing and chatting as they walked in a calm manner towards their classes.
Ophelia absentmindedly continued to look on at the students of Hogwarts as they all wondered to either their classes or to a spot of their own choices to skip their classes…and Ophelia was perfectly happy on the stone bench she sat on while her herbology book remained ignored. She was supposed to looking over her herbology notes, a vague reminder that a test of magical fungi echoed in the back of her mind but she could not find it in her to really care.
Besides, Ophelia had an arrangement to meet with someone.
A glint of green strewn onto a random student's robe caught her eyes...Slytherin, she thought as a group of four students calmly walked, with an arrogant step off and away from her sight. Cocky, rude, and overly confident.
Malfoy, Nott, Lestrange, and Avery were all so poised as the roamed down the halls. Their arrogance in their walk translated to grace and stature in the pure blood world of wizards, or at least, that is what Margo said. All boys continued down the hall, but one broke off from the group without a word and sauntered over towards her direction: Nott.
In one swift movement, Ophelia grabbed the formerly ignored herbology book carelessly by its spine and began her walk towards Nott. Dull green eyes scanned around the setting before the owner of said eyes, broke out a crooked, half smile.
"Graham," the Hufflepuff politely chimed to the Slytherin.
"Ophelia," the Slytherin greeted back softly. Graham Nott might not have been the most handsome student on campus, but Ophelia had to admit, he was rather lovely to look at on top of being the more...tolerable one of Tom's followers. His deep brown hair was kept short on the sides: it made him look constantly presentable. Graham had hazel eyes, fair skin, a perfect English nose, and chin that could only be found on a statue of a Greek god. Ophelia believed he was also one of the beaters for the Slytherin's Quidditch team, since what other reason did he need to have such defined shoulders and strong upper muscles for?
"Skipping class, I see." Graham noted casually. Gently he took the herbology book out of the girl's hand, opened it, skimmed through the text, and smirked at tiny scribbles of the Hufflepuff's handwriting that crowded the texts. "Are you unable to afford a journal or parchment paper to write your scribble scratch for herbology?"
Ophelia rolled her eyes at the boy and snatched the book away from him, a coy smile played at her lips; Nott's last sentence didn't phase her the slightest. Had he been Malfoy or Avery (or Tom even) it would have stung her ego in one way or another. As for Lestrange...Ophelia wouldn't even make the awkward mistake of letting herself say much of anything to him.
"Even if I was truly unable to afford parchment paper-I am still strongly certain-you'd want my notes, Graham." She placed the book behind her back, and gripped it using both hands, her black robes wrinkled slightly at the sudden movement. So badly she wanted to say: 'Maybe for a kiss on the cheek, you can borrow them.' He was a pure blood and she wasn't-Ophelia knew better.
"May I please borrow your herbology notes, Ophelia?" Graham Nott elegantly placed his palm up to her, and gave her a ghost of a girn.
Not even a full smile, she thought sullenly as she brought the book out from behind her back.
"Ahem."
Nott quickly moved his hand away from Ophelia and stepped back from her before he snapped his head to the right. "My-oh, um-Riddle," he stuttered.
Ophelia arched an eyebrow at Nott's sudden clumsiness with his words, but she too turned her head to acknowledge the other sixth year student. "Riddle."
The Slytherin prefect ignored his lackey, all it took was a curt wave of Tom's hand to signal he wanted the pure blooded boy gone. So Nott took off, quietly and without protest. Tom stepped closer to Ophelia than Graham had been; they were no more than three inches apart. The Hufflepuff looked up at the mean, young man in his brown eyes: he hated when she looked at the ground or else where when he spoke to her.
"Have you been here this whole time?" He sounded bitter as he hissed irritably at Ophelia. "I told you I needed you-."
"In the library after I was done with Runes." Ophelia sighed as she tucked her herbology book under her arm and continued to look at Tom. The corner of his mouth curled downward into a disgusted frown, but with how symmetric his face was: it didn't make him look on bit horrid. "Nott came up to me the other day and asked me to come here as well, you see-."
A genuine look of disdain flashed on Tom's face. "Darwin," he started off, "What in the bloody hell makes you think I care about what Nott asked you to do?"
"Well," she started, "I thought you wanted your fellow house members to get good marks on their subjects?"
A cruel reply quickly fired out of the Slytherin's mouth. "Yes, good, Ophelia." Tom mocked as one of his hands grabbed at her wrist tightly, "Not subpar marks." He began to lead her to the library.
A small piece of the Hufflepuff's ego stung at those words as she fell into step with the prefect of Slytherin; his gripped loosened slightly.
"If my marks are subpar," she started, "then please tell me why won't you actually get a Ravenclaw to help you with your research?"
By now Tom's hand was completely off of her wrist; he ignored her question. So in her head, her pretended there was an answer inside the tempestuous mind of Tom Riddle that went along the lines of: 'Because, Darwin, you're such a good help!' She trailed behind him in the library.
"Darwin, here." Tom stated as he pulled out two books from a tall shelf and handed them to her. "Look through those."
Ophelia, took the books and cradled them along with her Herbology book, "A please or thank you every now and again wouldn't hurt, you know."
"Now, Ophelia." Tom looked at the sixth year girl from over his shoulder, she was studying the titles of the book. A pensive glow came to her eyes. The Slytherin took a step closer to her as she began to flip through the pages of the first book; her pensive glow was started to turn into confusion as one of her eyebrows arched up on her face. Tom found that expression rather amusing and couldn't help but snicker at her.
The words of the first book she looked through, gave her the ingredients and procedures on how to create a stillborn potion for an unfaithful wife. A topic no student in Hogwarts should ever know at the current moment.
Ophelia snapped her head up at Tom, and placed the book against the young boy's chest. "We shouldn't have access to this!" A panicked look overcame her features, "This belongs in the restricted area."
He blinked apathetically, as if she had suggested the most idiotic thing. "No," Tom whispered dangerously as he forced the book away from his chest and back into Ophelia's hand. "I made it so I could have access to these books."
Oh, good heavens no! Ophelia just pressed the book back into Tom's chest as soon he had given her the restricted book back. "We will be in so much trouble if a professor notices there are books missing!"
"They will not," was all Tom hissed in reply. He grabbed Ophelia by the wrist that planted the book unto his chest, and quickly pulled her along with him farther down the book aisle. She was tense and her obvious fear of getting in trouble lingered at the back of her mind; it annoyed Tom that she of all people would ever think he'd get caught.
He pulled out one more book from a shelf and handed it to Ophelia.
"Meet me outside of the Slytherin common rooms after dinner, and bring the books. In the meantime, hide them in your room." He demanded as they began to walk out of the library. "Make sure little Miss Blaine doesn't concoct some ridiculous rumour that you're meeting with some strange lover as you excuse yourself from her presence."
Ophelia casted a side glance at Tom; he hadn't moved away from her yet even though he had finished barking out orders.
"Margo would never imply such a thing," Ophelia stated evenly, "but if she did, it wouldn't affect you or your reputation in any way, shape or form." It was only 1943, everything would was be the girl's fault especially in terms of a sordid reputation...Whatever future Margo predicted was a long, long ways from the time they lived in.
A cruel little smirk flashed on Tom's face. "Obviously my reputation will be as perfect as ever, but just think: Nott might hear this rumour and become more underwhelmed by you."
The Slytherin's words burned into Ophelia's ears and it made her whole body feel weak and hollow; a lump in her throat appeared; and she clutched the bundle of books closer to her chest. As if that would stop her from being hurt by his words.
Tom leaned over to Ophelia, a good three inches between their faces. "Do not talk to Nott again." He left as soon as those final demands were barked out; it left Ophelia hurt and frustrated.
She wanted to hurl the books at the prefect as he walked away, he wouldn't have been hard to miss given Tom's broad shoulders, tall figure, and head the size as a parade balloon with an ego to match….In the end, the brunette marched off to her dormitory, stuck the three restricted books under her bed, and traded the herbology book for a transfigurations text book.
It was no surprise to find the room for transfiguration to be empty, seeing as class didn't start for another twenty minutes. Ophelia plopped herself down on a chair in the middle section of the class, rested her chin on the palm of her left hand, her mind drifted off, and 'All Or Nothing At All' by Frank Sinatra played in Ophelia's head…
She was dancing with Graham Nott in the grand hall, soft music played in the background, and several other blurred out couples danced on the sides as well. Her mousy brown hair was pulled into an elegant bun, there were no accessories to be found in her hair, ears, or around her neck, but she sported a coy smile as her and the Slytherin beater danced away. Ophelia wore a simple salmon colored trumpet dress that was a mixture of lace and chiffon.
Graham wore a black formal suit with a deep green tie, his hair slicked back, and he actually gave her a full smile. Not a pesky, half hearted grin.
'Forgive me if I am stepping all over your feet. I'm not too great at ballroom dancing.'
Graham lowered his hand from her waist to the hip, pulled her in closer to him, and held her there securely. 'I suppose it is a good thing then, that I am the better dancer.'
She rested her head on Graham's Nott chest, and swayed with him as he led the dance. The soft music becoming even more distant as she continued to dance with young man, her heart sped up in her own chest.
It was perfect, here she was dancing with a boy she fancied who seemed to like her back. The Hufflepuff female lifted her head up: she was going to be brave, she was going to give Graham Nott a kiss. Her green eyes shut gently, stood on her toes, and placed her lips onto the boy's. Graham lowered his hands from waist to her bottom.
Slowly she pulled away, her eyes opened slowly but quickly widened in abject horror. A small gasp of fear escaped her mouth. She didn't kiss Nott!
Tom Riddle looked down at her with a blank expression on his face. 'How underwhelming…'
Ophelia blinked her frightening day dream away, her heart was banging rapidly, chills ran along her arms and down her spine. The Hufflepuff sat up straight in chair, grabbed her transfiguration book and started to read the chapter Professor Dumbledore would be going over that. She was not going to let her mind drift off into a daydream for the rest of the day.
While Ophelia was doing her best to cram information into her head, a certain young man with dark hair and brooding brown eyes made his way to the Slytherin common room.
A quiet intensity immediately filled the room as Tom scanned for his victim. He spotted Nott on a plush couch, helplessly flipping through a herbology book. Malfoy and Avery were not present, but Lestrange and some other random house mates polluted the area as Tom made his way to the idiot on the couch.
"Is everything alright, my lord?" Lestrange said in a whisper since he was unsure exactly who Tom was keen on 'talking' to.
Tom ignored Lestrange. "Nott," he snapped as he addressed Graham.
The pure-blooded male looked up and cracked a little smile at Tom; Nott was either trying to be charming or a bigger idiot. "My lord."
Tom Riddle glared down at the boy until that foolish smile completely fell off his face.
"My lord," Nott tried again, his voice more serious. "Is everything alright?"
The heir of Slytherin grimaced at his lackey, "Maybe I should be asking you if you're alright, because I don't ever recall you and Miss Darwin meeting up to exchange pleasantries until today. I just needed to ask, whoin the bloody hell do you think you are talking to someone who, and I've made this clear, is only my subordinate?"
Nott opened his mouth, "We weren't exchanging pleasantries, I needed help with herbology and I figured Ophelia- I mean-Miss Darwin could-."
Rage jolted through the heir of Slytherin's body: Ophelia's name rolled off Nott's tongue too naturally and it severely irked him. Tom's brown eyes narrowed and flicker of red shown through them for a brief moment, Nott immediately stopped talking. "You are not to talk to Miss Darwin any longer." Tom kept his voice clear and even, "Go find someone else to help you pass your trivial classes."
"Yes, my lord," was Nott could say.
Tom looked over his shoulder to Lestrange, who tensed up and averted his eyes away from the prefect. A sneer came over Tom's features before he decided to attend to more important matters. After, all he'd gotten away with the murder of his pathetic father as well the rest of his muggle relatives, and framed it perfectly on his degenerate uncle. Tom was certain he never needed them anyways and felt quite happy he erased some of the scum that breathed the same air as him.
He accomplished so much just in one summer on his own and he discovered so much about his heritage on his own. Tom Marvolo Riddle, a half-blood who was descendent of Salazar Slytherin with two horcruxes to boot. Imagine….what more he could accomplish with Ophelia's blind obedience. It made him smile, a truly sadistic smile.
"So are we heading to the Quidditch game this weekend, yes or no?" Peter asked Ophelia and Margo between bites of his dinner.
"Our house isn't even playing, Peter." Margo rolled her eyes at young man and picked at her dinner plate. "It's Ravenclaw versus…" The pure blonde girl tossed a look at the brunette who sat across from her. "Who is Ravenclaw playing against."
Ophelia put a hand over her mouth so Margo wouldn't have to see the chewed up food in her mouth as she spoke,"Gryffindor."
"Exactly," Peter interjected. "Ravenclaw goes against Gryffindor this weekend, but next weekend it's us against Ravenclaw." Peter once again was made a chaser for the Hufflepuff team, and took any opportunity to watch all and any Quidditch games.
Margo huffed and finally took a small bite of salad from her plate. "I'm not going."
Peter and Ophelia exchanged glances before going back to their food. Margo would definitely end up going since she had the natural tendency to do the opposite of what she said she'd do.
Peter Elwood gave the brunette a tired glared before nudging his over to the blonde who sat next to him; Ophelia, used to Peter's gestures only shrugged her shoulders subtly and went back to eating her dinner. Whatever irked Peter about Margo and vice versa could be the topic of gossip for her and Margo tomorrow.
She still had to excuse herself from her friend's presence, rush to her dormitory, get the books, and meet Tom. The sooner she finished dinner, the sooner she could be done for the night. Ophelia gave herself five more minutes to eat before she left to meet Tom.
Potions from the Dark Ages, How to Curse Objects, and Dark Magic from Ancient Times: Ophelia skimmed through the titles of the books as she waited for Tom; her fingers ran over the finely printed words of 'Potions from the Dark Ages' and a small fragment of curiosity lingered on the edge of her thoughts, as if to prompt the sixth year to read the whole book before Tom could.
"A peak wouldn't hurt...would it," she muttered to herself. Ophelia wanted to know why Tom would need such books; especially one that dealt with potions causing a cheating spouse to have a stillborn. Slowly she opened the book to its first page with a small hope of finding a potion not too terribly morbid. Ophelia went to flip over to the next page but a heavy hand clasped onto her shoulder; causing her to freeze in the middle of her motions...in an instant, from just how the heavy hand planted itself onto her body, Ophelia knew who it was.
"A peak," the young man whispered into her ear as he tore the book away from her, "would definitely hurt." Tom took the other books from her there after. "Especially since you are as emotionally mature as a four year old. These books," he stated lowly with a mock of sincerity, "would ruin your fragile soul and stain it."
Ophelia frowned at Tom. "You speak as if it your soul would be unaffected."
He wanted to laugh at such a silly statement like it was joke in need of validation, but the sixth year Slytherin only wanted to poke at the female before him a slight bit more. He knew she hated when her questions were ignored. "Thanks for holding these for me-."
"You don't sound the least bit thankful-," Ophelia interrupted.
Tom looked down at her, as if her words were never spoken. "Merlin, who knows what would have happened if I didn't have you as my friend." A small delight echoed through the heir of Salazar when he noted the familiar shade of shame and hurt shine in Ophelia's dull eyes.
It honestly was fun mocking the subpar witch, something about her vulnerability made it all too interesting for him. Especially as they got older.
"We're not friends." Ophelia stated in an even tone, trying not to let her frustration show to the handsome wizard. He'd made it clear before that they were not friends or even acquaintances….They were...Well, she couldn't even think of a title of it.
"Ah," Tom sighed with something similar to contentment, "there is a working brain in your head somewhere." He brought up a hand that was free from holding books to her head, and patted Ophelia as if she were a pet. "I much enjoy not having to pretend I like you, Ophelia." A smirk painted itself to Tom's lips, "I can save that for more worthwhile people."
Tears started to bead at the corner of her eyes; Ophelia turned her body away from him: the cruel boy who was dead set on turning into an even crueler man. She was not going to cry about something the Slytherin repeated over and over and over again to her.
"Goodnight, Riddle," Ophelia tried her best not let the hurt show in her voice; her feet carried her away from the Slytherin house to hers. She didn't wait for a goodnight from him because he'd never do such a thing for the likes of her half-blood status.
Tom was rather proud of himself as he watched the sixth year Hufflepuff walk away; something about her submissiveness probably had something to do with it. A small part of him almost wished Ophelia had been a Gryffindor; it would have been pleasing to imagine her as a lion with its tail between its legs.
He walked off to his room and she walked off to hers….Her day dream of accidentally kissing Tom slowly crept into her mind as Ophelia tried to drift to sleep; it left her feeling wildly disappointed and empty for a reason she could not place a finger on.