Chapter Three: Heritage
A/N: Not entirely happy with how this turned out but hey, it's here right? Some reveals happening this chapter, so let me know if it's something you suspected ;)
Jolie was not typically one to draw attention to herself. She preferred to be an observer rather than someone who had all eyes on her, but for some reason, the impending Halloween party had her feeling bold. Was it Don's attention that she was striving for? Her brother's friend was attractive, and popular among the ladies. Jolie's sudden boldness shocked even her, and she inspected her handiwork in the mirror with pride.
"You look incredible." Elaine leaned against the bedpost with raised eyebrows. The three friends had decided to go as the Turner triplets, three Muggle-born witch sisters who had been murdered by Jack the Ripper in the 1800s. The steel-boned corset Jolie wore cinched in her waist and enhanced her curves.
"So do you." Jolie raised a hand to toy with one of Elaine's perfectly curled ringlets. "Where's Cornelia?"
"She's still fussing over her corset, give her a minute."
Jolie was certainly not one for trivial parties, but tonight somehow felt different, in a way she couldn't explain. She would hold her head high above the sneers of Riddle and his pack of sycophantic Slytherin friends. Maybe this year was different. Maybe Jolie was going to be more than simply Beau's little sister.
"Alright, I'm ready." Cornelia barged into the room, smoothing her hands down the front of her corset. She had complained incessantly about their choice of group costume—or rather, Jolie's idea that Elaine had adamantly agreed with. She had whined that she wouldn't look good in a corset or in any sort of Victorian fashion, but she seemed to have herself put together well tonight.
Sneaking their way down to the Hufflepuff common room was no difficult feat. The trio had their fair share of nighttime adventures, aided by Elaine's pristine image and shiny Prefect badge. They noticed a few other small groups of students in Halloween costumes slipping their way through the corridors, the soft tinkle of laughter. Jolie linked her arms through Elaine and Cornelia's, enjoying the way her heels clicked against the stone.
The Hufflepuffs knew how to throw a party if nothing, Jolie thought as they entered the common room. It had been completely decked out, complete with skeleton and ghost decorations. She didn't doubt that Beau had a hand in the preparations. Was there anything her brother wasn't good at? The fact that he was also just a nice person made him all the more insufferable, if Jolie didn't love him so damn much.
"You made it." Don approached the trio, but Jolie didn't miss the way his eyes raked over her, filling her with a sense of pride. Jolie was tall even without heels, but the heels made her tower somewhere around six foot, and she was invigorated by the sense of power that the extra height gave her.
Why did his attention suddenly matter? Don flirted with girls all the time. Jolie had never much cared for the interest of boys, but she revelled in Don's right now. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and offered him the sort of saccharine smile that she suspected would have him eating out of the palm of her hand.
"Of course we did."
"The Turner triplets?" Beau swaggered over to join his friend, dressed like an overgrown bat, and Jolie refrained from rolling her eyes when Elaine and Cornelia both giggled and flushed. Merlin, was that what she looked like when Don so much as looked in her direction?
"Hi, Beau," Elaine said shyly.
"What are you, anyway?" Jolie asked coolly, raising a judgemental eyebrow. "You look like you couldn't decide, so you just picked black clothes."
"You wound me." Beau pressed a hand dramatically over his heart. Everything her brother did was effortlessly cool, earned looks of approval from his friends and laughs of admiration from the girls who had crushes on him. She'd had her fair share of fake friends who'd attempted to get to know her in the hope that they could get to Beau. Unfortunately for them, Beau was quite astute about that sort of thing, and respected his younger sister immensely.
"Oh, look who decided to show up." Cornelia's voice dripped with disdain, and Jolie glanced over her shoulder to see that she was referring to the Slytherin crowd, who looked as though they'd rather be anywhere else. Why did they come if they found this sort of thing so bloody boring? Lorelai eyed Beau, but he was too busy chatting up a friendly Gryffindor girl.
"Snobs," Jolie waved a dismissive hand, reaching over to pluck up one of the brightly-coloured shots on offer, "How about we show them that Ravenclaws know how to party?"
Cornelia and Elaine exchanged grins. Jolie and her friends could be studious and even a little stuck-up at times, but they weren't Slytherin brats at the very least. Lorelai had moved on from Beau's inattentiveness, turning her flirtations onto Don. He appeared mildly interested, a smile spreading across his lips, and something inside Jolie snapped at Lorelai's triumphant smirk.
Turning her back on her friends, she sauntered over to Don and rested a hand on his shoulder, raising her eyebrows coolly at Lorelai. The Slytherin girl's smugness faded into mild confusion as the Hufflepuff boy glanced at Jolie.
"Did you want to dance?" Jolie grinned up at Don. Even with her heels on, he was a good few inches taller than her. He reached up to sweep his errant dark curls out of his face and took her hand, leading her over to where a few students had cleared a space to dance to some sultry latest hit that Jolie didn't recognise.
Don was, like Beau, one of the most popular boys in his years. Jolie might not be considered 'cool' by the standards of some, like the Slytherins, but she had enough friends. It struck her to realise that all of this—her acceptance of the invitation to the party, interrupting Lorelai flirting with Don—hadn't been impulsive moves on her part. She was operating three steps ahead, and the endgame here was clear to her now.
"Jolie?" Elaine sounded confused.
"I'll be back in a moment." Jolie beamed at her friends as she took centre stage. She had never much been one for the spotlight, but even she could admit that it had its time and place.
Don was a good dancer, but Jolie was better. Her mother had made both Jolie and Beau attend ballroom dancing classes as children. It was perhaps the one thing that Beau had not utterly excelled at, and Jolie had burned all the brighter for it.
Jolie spun once, twice, three times in her stiletto heels. The world whirled around her in a blur of colour, but Don held tight to her hand. She caught his shoulder to steady herself, a charming smile tugging at the corners of her lips. They moved across the dancefloor like it belonged to them, Jolie's movements flawless and graceful enough to do her mother proud.
"You're very good at this," Don pointed out.
She knew that, though she supposed he was looking for false modesty. "Thank you."
Don's family were well-connected within the Ministry. After he finished Hogwarts, he would no doubt take up a prestigious position. Although Jolie had connections of her own, it wouldn't do any harm to take up whatever opportunity presented itself. Don was a renowned Lothario, but Jolie was confident that she could utilise him for her own gain regardless.
As she spun and dipped, the cogs of Jolie's mind were always ticking. She had only ever considered the brightness of Beau's future, and not what might become of hers. Perhaps it was time to start thinking about it.
Tom was not one for revels, however he knew his friends had been talking about the Hufflepuff Halloween party for quite some time. He supposed it would be disappointing if he didn't at least show up, although he wasn't about to don some stupid costume in an attempt to fit in. He also didn't engage with the ridiculous shots that the Hufflepuffs had put out, although his friends were not quite so uptight.
"Lorelai's pissed off," Augustus said, approaching with a neon green shot in one hand and a canary yellow one in the other.
"What is it this time?" Tom sighed. Lorelai's bloodlust made her a perfect member of his inner circle, but her temper tantrums were irritating to say the least. She had the tendency to snap at the drop of a hat, which he found vexing. Typically, it was over a boy.
"Salvador and Selwyn." Augustus tipped his hand toward where a space had cleared for the blonde girl and her dark-haired dance partner. "She was flirting up a storm with him, but Selwyn came in and whisked him off to dance."
"Are you having both of those?" Tom arched an eyebrow at the shots.
Augustus grinned. "Why, do you want one?"
"I can think of nothing I want less." Tom shook his head slowly. "Just try to maintain some semblance of decorum, will you?"
His eyes locked onto Jolie and Salvador. There could be no denying that Jolie was an excellent dancer, though he would never admit as much to her. She dipped and twirled at the right moments, moving her body with fluid grace in time to the music. At times, it almost looked as though Salvador struggled to keep up with her, and he wasn't half bad at dancing either.
When the music ended, she snapped to a sudden halt, her arms looped around Salvador's neck, and then Jolie took Salvador's face in her hands and kissed him. A few catcalls and cheers resounded through the party, and Tom didn't miss the way that Beau rolled his eyes at the display. Jolie was laughing as a few of the other students applauded, a becoming blush in her cheeks as she dipped her head modestly. She bit her lip shyly and glanced at Salvador as though embarrassed by the fact that she'd kissed him.
Tom might have fallen for the act, as everyone else had, if he didn't notice the cold triumph flash through Jolie's blue eyes as she looked straight at Lorelai. The dark-haired girl's expression turned ugly, though instead of intervening, she elbowed her way through the crowd and marched out. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose at her dramatics, but caught Lachlan's eye and jerked his head to the door that Lorelai had briskly departed out of.
At Salvador's side, his arm looped around her waist, Jolie was the picture of modesty, a humble smile on her face as she swept her blonde hair out of her face. Her insufferable friends surrounded her with rapt expressions, but Tom wondered if they'd seen what he had. He wondered who, exactly, had witnessed the precise moment when the mask had dropped and the sheer cruelty lit up Jolie's eyes.
Well played, Selwyn.
For a week or two after Halloween, Don and Jolie seemed to be the names on everyone's lips, as though they had performed some magnificent feat instead of a passionate dance. Tom cared nothing for discussion of the event, too focused on both school and learning the truth behind his heritage. When he wasn't studying, he was taking books out from the library or prowling the corridors, desperate for answers.
The group project with Jolie was, astonishingly, not moving along terribly. They only had a few sessions in the library and most of those were spent in silence, with Tom making notes and Jolie carefully crafting their essay. Her handwriting was impeccable, but the last thing she needed was a compliment, not when she was already conceited enough with rumours swirling around the school about her and Salvador.
"Selwyn!" Lorelai barked, marching into the library with a determined gait. She either didn't notice Tom was with her, or didn't care. She strode right up to the blonde girl and folded her arms over her chest. "Do you want to explain?"
"Explain what?" Jolie leaned back in her chair and remained seated.
Lorelai's eyes narrowed. "Your little stunt with Don on Halloween."
"There was no stunt, Nott."
"You only danced with him because he was talking to me." Lorelai bared her teeth. "Clearly, you were trying to make me jealous."
"Do you really think that's all I care about?" Jolie rose slowly, and though she only had an inch or two on Lorelai, she seemed to tower over the dark-haired girl. "Making you jealous? Perhaps if you spent less time on trying to shag my brother and his friends and more time on your academic career, you'd realise I have far better things to do than make you jealous."
There was a sharp crack as Lorelai's hand connected with Jolie's face, a vicious rage burning in her eyes. Tom felt compelled to intervene, not on Jolie's behalf, but rather because Lorelai's behaviour was rather embarrassing.
"Lorelai. Enough."
The dark-haired girl seemed to seriously consider ignoring him and hexing Jolie for good measure, but with one final sneer, she left the library in a huff. Jolie sat back down and lounged back as if on a throne, undeterred by the red mark on her cheek that Lorelai's slap had left behind.
"I saw the way you looked at her on Halloween." Tom's tone was conversational. "You upset her, and you liked it."
Jolie laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, Riddle. Do you think I was trying to make her jealous, too?"
"I don't know what you were doing." Tom shrugged his shoulders. "But I don't buy into this little schoolgirl crush on Salvador act you have going on. I think it's something more than that."
"Oh, you've caught me." Jolie pressed a hand dramatically over her heart, dropping her quill for more drama. "I've fallen hopelessly in love with Don Salvador."
Tom rolled his eyes. "I've had enough melodrama in the form of Lorelai Nott, I hardly need more from you."
"Do that again and I'll hex your eyes to roll right into the Great Lake," Jolie snapped, her amusement fading as annoyance crept in instead. Instead of continuing on a tirade, she simply picked up her quill and went back to looking over their essay and ignoring Tom.
"If you won't talk about swoon-worthy Salvador…"
"We've been through this." Jolie put the quill down and schooled her features into a neutral expression. Too neutral, too calm. "I simply don't know what you think I know about the Key Three. Yes, perhaps I've researched them a little more avidly than most other students, but your insistence that I'm somehow hiding information is quite absurd."
She had gotten better. Initially when Tom had brought up the Key Three, she would react coldly, but now she threw on the mask of indifference. How many masks did Jolie Selwyn have, he wondered. He suspected that there were many layers there, and perhaps Jolie herself didn't even know how deep they ran, how many masks she put on to seem more appealing to those around her.
"I think you're a liar."
"I don't care what you think." Jolie tilted her head to the side, a devious smile spreading across her lips and something dark glimmering in her eyes. "Especially not someone who spends his nights sneaking around the castle, hoping to find something with the name 'Riddle' on it so he knows where he's from."
Tom sucked in a deep breath, fury enveloping him. "How did you know that?"
"I have my ways." An insufferably smug smile spread across Jolie's features as she gathered up her essay and writing materials, sauntering from the library with her high ponytail swinging from side to side.
Who could have told Jolie what he was doing? Certainly, she wasn't a Prefect, so she couldn't have spotted him that way. Not even his friends knew what he was up to when he wandered the castle alone, so it disturbed him how some arrogant Ravenclaw girl thought she had him all figured out.
Perhaps Jolie knew because he wasn't the only one sneaking about the castle searching for answers. Perhaps she too had questions that burdened her, unresolved.
What are you hiding, Selwyn?
Winter crept over Hogwarts in a blanket of white snow, and Jolie turned in her assignment with Riddle, with Professor Pryce informing her that they would know their grades after the Christmas break. Yet something else for Jolie to wait for with bated breath, churning in her stomach until she felt sick.
Since receiving the letter about her grandparents being home for Christmas, Jolie had been filled with a sense of icy dread. She had searched the Restricted section of the library for answers on questions she was too afraid to ask, which was where she had seen Riddle going through books of his own. Books on the Sacred 28, on pure-blood houses. It had been a guess that he was looking for the truth of his own family, though the expression on his face told Jolie she'd hit the nail on the head.
"I don't know if I can go home," Jolie murmured to Beau when it was time for them to take the Floo network back. He gave her a reassuring smile and took her hand in his, squeezing lightly. Merlin's beard, why did her brother have to be so good? If he knew what sort of person Jolie really was, how awful she was capable of being, he wouldn't comfort her.
"It's alright. You've got me, too."
"Doesn't the thought of him scare you?" Jolie searched her brother's face for fear and found none. It struck her that perhaps she wasn't the only one who wore a mask to hide how they really felt.
Beau shrugged. "There's no point in being afraid. He's just our grandfather."
You and I both know that's not true, Jolie wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut instead. Beau stepped into the fireplace first, the flames flaring emerald as he called out 'Selwyn Estate' and then vanished. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Jolie composed herself and followed his lead, as she'd been doing her whole life.
"Selwyn Estate."
She closed her eyes as the flames went green and everything spun around. When her world stabilised, she coughed as soot leapt up to invade her mouth and nose. Jolie stepped out of the fireplace, knees shaking as she observed the group that had assembled to greet her and Beau.
"Darling!" Jolie's mother was out of her chair in an instant. Therese crossed over to envelop her daughter in a hug, and Jolie was overwhelmed by the scent of sandalwood and patchouli. When her mother released her from her crushing embrace, Andrew stepped forward to hold her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
"It's good to have you both home."
An older man strode over, his gait powerful and his expression icy. Jolie hadn't seen her grandfather in many years, but she instinctively knew it was him from the dread coiling in the pit of her stomach. He was a tall, cold-looking man, with eyes like chips of granite staring imperiously down at her.
"It's been a long time, Jolie."
"Sir," she murmured, averting her eyes to stare at the sapphire-coloured rug. She was rarely afraid, but right now, there was no denying the fear coursing through her veins.
"Grandfather will do fine," he corrected, his voice deep and contemptuous, "Or if not, you may call me Armand."