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. If there are any errors please let me know and I will try to fix it as soon as I can.

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September 30, 1943

There was probably a multitude of things Ophelia could have been doing at this very moment. She could have been studying in depth, bubotubers and how to properly dilute (or was it distill) them. She could have answered a question on where to find a great abundance of shrivelfigs. Maybe, she could have given a little insight to wiggentrees in class and have gotten Hufflepuff ten points to her detailed oral presentation.

Though where was she at this very moment? The answer: not in herbology, where Ophelia Darwin should have been.

No, she was not chatting it up with a boy who only wanted her notes. No, much worse. She was in a boy's room-a Slytherin prefect room to be exact, seated at a tidy little desk, troubled with organizing notes that were not even hers.

The boy who roped her into this, sat comfortably on his bed, legs crossed, and his eyes focused on a book from the restricted area (which was the reason why they couldn't have done this business in the library.)

She was indeed cornered and in a situation where once again, Tom needed her for this, that, and another thing. As much as Ophelia hated herbology-for some reason, she hated Tom Riddle more today….Well she grew to find Tom more and more irritable since he walked into the Great Hall with Selene Sharpe in tow.

At first it was easy to ignore Tom and Selene. Really, it was. Though, at every corner it seemed she heard or saw the two together. The Hufflepuff even heard a rumor that the Slytherin prefect and Ravenclaw girl had been snogging each other in the hidden corners of the library-which at first did not bother her.

Until Peter, told both Margo and Ophelia that Kristoph Sergeant (a buddy of Peter's from Gryffindor ) could confirm this rumor was true. It left Ophelia steaming in a pot irritation and anger.

How could Tom really be demand her help for his advantage, yet still have an actual Ravenclaw who doted on him so heavily? Selene Sharpe should be doing this for Tom-not her!

Herbology sounds like a blast right about now the Hufflepuff thought as she hurried to finish the transfer of information from her notes to his.

As Ophelia added more details to Tom's notes of their latest defense against the dark arts lecture (he hardly had anything except important spell terms written down) her handwriting became sloppier and sloppier with each paragraph. By the time she was done, it looked more like scribbles from a child.

"Here." She snapped as she slapped the notes in front of the boy. She moved from Tom's tidy little desk to the edge of his bed, and tried as fast as she could to grab her things and be away from the Slytherin prefect.

"Stay," The heir of Slytherin commanded before Ophelia could even pick up all her belongings. Tom's brown eyes scanned the mess of parchment paper that was once neat. Merlin, he could barely make out the Hufflepuff's handwriting. To put it simply: he was not pleased with Ophelia at the moment.

"Have you regressed back into the two year old you actually are," Tom snapped at her. "I told you to help me by adding unto the notes for details-not to scribble!"

She's never been this incompetent, Tom thought in his head as Ophelia looked away from him; stiff and quiet as if she was statue.

"I must be going now," was all Ophelia said as she stood up to leave. Herbology, here I come!

"No, you are not."

The Hufflepuff kept going for the door, the Slytherin had been ignored by her…. that had NEVER done in the history shared between Tom Marvolo Riddle and Ophelia Mae Darwin.

Tom especially did not like that, his blood boiled and maybe for the first time ever, he felt like he did want to hurt Ophelia...just a little bit.

As Ophelia reached for the door knob, Tom focused on it and felt a hot rage wash over him.

Ophelia let out a quick shriek of pain when her hand came into contact with the doorknob. She stepped away from the door, she examined the hand that was wounded….there was a burn import as big as her palm.

"I can't…" Ophelia's voice trailed off and she looked at the boy who sat still in the middle of his bed. She took in a deep breath as she felt her body shake slightly, "I can't believe you actually hurt me."

Tom scoffed at her, if he did feel bad about burning her hand, he was not going to let it show. "I can't believe you ignored me."

"You burned me," Ophelia whispered as she extended her hand out, palm first to show Tom the deep red mark on her hand. Tears began to collect at the corner of her eyes.

Tom got off his bed, walked straight over to Ophelia, grabbed the injured hand firmly by the wrist, he then yanked Ophelia close to his chest. He put his free hand under her chin; it forced her to look up at him.

A small bit of humanity inside the young man almost noted how he felt something unfamiliar in holding the Hufflepuff student so close. It was not anything like holding Selene Sharpe-he felt something odd stir in him.

The heir of Slytherin looked down into the female's eyes. He was expecting to see fear in those dull eyes, anger, maybe even hatred. All he saw was confusion and something that looked like a flicker of hurt, Tom wasn't all that sure.

She really does operate on blind obedience, Tom thought quietly to himself.

In a swift movement Tom released Ophelia; he put his long and pale hands on her shoulders and gave her a strong enough shove to send her tumbling backwards to the door.

"Be glad," Tom began with no emotion or charm in his voice, "not many people who make me cross getaway with a little wound."

"So messy notes make you cross." Ophelia was in some type of shock. Not ever did she felt Tom Riddle would actually hurt her. Why would he ever? Hadn't she been his help since day one? Hadn't she shared as much knowledge as she could with him? They might not have been friends, or even acquaintances, but damn it, how could she be so naive to think he'd never hurt her?

He probably hurts others in his own house! Ophelia was slowly piecing things together….How he had gain practical control over Slytherin students, males especially….He probably put them in check more than once.

It dawned on her and sent chills down her body: fear.

Tom gave her a sadistic little smile but he said nothing. The facial features on Ophelia's face was enough: she was now scared of him. He liked it. The Slytherin prefect much rather enjoyed the frightened look on Ophelia; he found it attractive in a way. He reached for Ophelia one more time.

The contrast between his pale hand and her fair skin of her neck; he felt her pulse firmly on his palm. He liked it….the feeling of Ophelia under his hold of his hand.

Ophelia kept her breathing light and slow, she was surprised at the lack of a grip Tom's hands didn't have on her throat. Her eyes were wide and opened; too scared to blink she was. All it could take was a blink for Tom to choke her out if he so pleased.

Slowly, he leaned in towards the girl. The space between them vanished in an instant: Ophelia was pressed up firmly against a door, and Tom was pressed firmly against her. This was the closest Tom had ever allowed them to be physically.

"Consider yourself lucky, Ophelia." Tom's whisper did not come out as a hiss, it didn't come across as threatening. To Ophelia's ears it sounded soft, sultry, and seductive….which scared her ever more.

Ophelia choked back a whimper; she was almost certain the first person she ever met at Hogwarts was going to snap her neck in half. "L-lucky," was all the frightened girl could stutter out.

She felt the opposite of lucky!

"Yes," Tom whispered into her ear. His lips brushed against her ear lobes, "I am going to be merciful towards you for once in your sad, little life." The seductiveness in his voice wore off. "Get out."

In an instant he removed his hand from her throat, and took his body away from hers so Ophelia was no longer pressed against the door.

What just happened? Ophelia thought as she looked up Slytherin prefect. She knew her eyes must have been as wide as dinner plates and filled with shook up emotions as she stood still in front of Tom.

"Get out," Tom said once more; his voice was rough. "I will not repeat myself again, Ophelia."

In a heartbeat, after Ophelia processed those words, she practically flew out of the boy's room.

A part of her blind obedience to him shattered as she ran.