Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters 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-so if you see an error that needs to be fixed let me know. I will try to fix it as soon as I can. Since this particular chapter is longer than usual-it might have more errors. I hope you guys are able to enjoy the chapter. It took me a while to figure out how to write Tom's character for this chapter as well.
So since this story is rated "M"-more mature stuff will be happening soon. You've been warned.
Thank you for reading this, and let me know what you think by putting a review.
October 30, 1943
Ophelia watched the Hufflepuff team practice in the Quidditch pitch for what felt like hours; their next game was tomorrow and it was against Slytherin. They trained harder the past week as soon as they heard the news: they ran drills early in the morning before classes and they even tried the new techniques later in the evening.
"I really feel we might have a fighting chance." Ophelia took a sip of hot chocolate from her little thermos before handing it to Margo.
Margo smiled at the clunky, black thermos and took a sip from it as well. With every little muggle device Ophelia shared with her-she fell more and more in love with the convenience and simplicity of it. Next to the television, Margo thought the thermos was probably the second best thing muggles got right.
"I think," Margo chirped happily, practically cradling the thermos, "it is nice to see Peter this motivated."
The two sixth years watched as the Hufflepuff's Quidditch team descended into the Quidditch pitch; Peter waved at his friends to leave the rows they were seated at to come and listen to the captain.
Ophelia stood up and rushed down with no problem; Margo placed the thermos down before she headed to the group of Hufflepuffs. Margo placed it down with such care, it almost seemed like she was putting down a newborn baby.
"Well," William Zolotov started off, "criticism first: our formation isn't as tight as it needs to be if we want to win. Beaters, I am looking at you. I need you guys to stay close to the chasers and the seeker." Zolotov looked over to Peter, "Give them the compliments please, Elwood."
Peter cleared his throat, then smiled; and Ophelia swore she heard Margo's heart flutter. The half-blooded witch rolled her eyes at the pure-blooded witch.
Ophelia leaned into Margo. "Drooling over your hot stud of a chaser, eh?"
Margo nudge Ophelia in the ribs, her eyes fixed on the Elwood heir.
"We have greatly improved our speed and reflexes as this must be the first season we've had together where we are in close to perfect sync with one another." Peter went on, "The best we can do is show up tomorrow and bring out best to pitch. If we lose, then we lose but if we win…."
Peter and William shared a look of mischief before they announced the rest of the sentence.
"If we win," the two boys said in unison, "house Hufflepuff is getting completely sloshed and the other houses are invited!"
Ophelia paled at the thought...Oh, Merlin…
Tom was in the Slytherin common room when he heard the news about the Hufflepuff Quidditch team wanting to throw a party if they won tomorrow's match.
Rosier arched and eyebrow and mused to the gang, "Maybe we should let the little puffs win-been a while since our house has been invited anywhere."
"Please," Lestrange interjected, "we'd win in a heartbeat."
The common room started to echo loudly with the debate of winning or losing to Hufflepuff. Tom narrowed his eyes and tried to dig his nose further into the book he was reading-but it was hard to block out the loud and rowdy Slytherin boys.
Why the hell did he want to 'study' in the common room?
A rather haughty voice cut through the boys' loud chatter, instantly the group that consisted of Tom's followers fell silent.
"The Hufflepuffs have been practicing." Selene was in the common room as well, she had been ignoring her only job to proofread Tom's report for Ancient Runes. Not one single mark had been made on his paper to either take away or add to the report.
Oh, right. Tom thought bitterly as he tried to return to his book, she's the reason why I had to be in here.
The heir of Slytherin could admit without any guilt in his heart: he did not want to alone in his bedroom with the Ravenclaw. As pretty as she was, as rich as she was, as clever as she liked to make people think she was: Tom could not stand her.
Still, as he read a book that provided him with more information about Horcruxes, Tom remembered why he pretended to like Selene….It took a good portion of control and willpower to not lash out on Selene either in private or public-but it gave him more incentive to be as nice as he could to the sixth year female who decided to take Ophelia's place.
It had practically been a month since Tom interacted with Ophelia. He was a small bit shocked that Ophelia Darwin was good at hiding when she didn't want to be found. Profoundly good, Tom Riddle hated to admit.
He grew tense and he began to realize how much he'd fallen behind on his pursuit of the dark arts.
Selene only hindered it as well! The red headed beauty became more demanding of Tom. She wanted him to kiss her in front of her friends; she wanted to stay a night with him after she 'helped' Tom with his work; she wanted more of his time. He wasn't willing to give her more.
Selene stood up, in a flawless motion she grabbed the snatched the book Tom had been reading. She winked at him and gave him a flirtatious little smirk. "Tom." Her voice went from haughty to soft, "Why don't we get a breath of fresh air."
Again with this nonsense.
Tom forced a very ill fitting smile to his face, "As you wish, Miss Sharpe."
Ophelia, Margo, and Peter walked around the grounds of Hogwarts later that chilly afternoon. The three friends stayed close together as they walked and chatted about nothing of too much importance: Margo walked on one side of Ophelia and Peter was on the other-it left Ophelia smacked in between the two of them.
"I have a bottle of firewhisky saved up tomorrow's party if we win," Peter smiled as he playfully punched Ophelia on the shoulder. "Your favorite drink ever, right, Pipa?"
Ophelia faked a frown at the boy. "I absolutely hate firewhisky." Though, Ophelia mused to herself, there is a lot of truth in that statement.
Margo grinned, "Firewhisky all around for us!"
"May our glasses never empty," Peter sang off key as he slung his heavy arm onto Ophelia's shoulder.
Margo smiled and then placed her petite arm onto Ophelia's shoulder as well; but it was rested more on Peter's bulky arms than her friend's shoulder. "May our livers be healthy."
Ophelia put one arm around Peter's back then the other arm around Margo's back. She smiled as they began to clumsily walk or skip in the same direction and pace. "And if we must leave a stranger's bed," Ophelia chuckled, "let us be stealthy."
The group of friends let go of their hold on one another after their little chant, a comfortable silence fell among them.
An indescribable calmness washed over the witch with dull green eyes; when was the last time she felt at ease and happy?
Birds chirped in the background, as if they were giving Ophelia an answer. A small, perfectly contented grin inched at the corners of her lips.
It is amazing what one month away from things can do, she mused. Her pin straight hair grew at least a good three inches past her shoulders; her skin had a glow to it; and the absolutely best part of all-her grades had improved immensely (especially in herbology.)
Ophelia actually had the time to apply her long, detailed notes into her memory better; she was learning in a way that better suited her. She was no longer considered an ''average' student and she had the marks to prove it.
The universe probably smiled down on me one day, the half-blooded witch thought.
A completely separate and random thought sprouted in Margo's head. "Wait! Stop!"
Ophelia was a little sad that a friend brought her out of feeling wonderful about life, but she stopped anyways to pay attention to Margo. Peter stopped in his tracks and looked scared that Margo broke the pleasant silence among them (he was having such a nice, brainless, day dream about winning tomorrow's game.)
Margo panicked, "I forgot the thermos!"
Ophelia blinked at the high frequency Margo's voice took when frazzled.
Peter felt his ears pop at Margo's sharp voice, he began to wonder how he never became deaf after being around her most his life.
"Do you remember where you left it?" Ophelia arched an eyebrow at her friend.
Margo nodded, "Somewhere in the Quidditch pitch rows?"
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, "Don't say it like a question if you're sure."
Margo's voice went shrill again, "I don't remember which row!"
The brunette rolled her eyes, "I'll go back and get it. No big deal."
Margo smiled, "You will?"
Ophelia just gave a curt nod.
"Alright." Peter started to walk off, "See you in the common room."
Selene was confused. Wasn't she perfect? Didn't she radiate sex appeal? Wasn't she smart enough? Didn't she do everything involving her feminine wiles just right with Tom?
She knew for damn sure, Tom liked it when she sucked him off. ( Selene did it on the day she handed her warning letter to the dirty, half-blooded Hufflepuff.) Her memory of the handsome Slytherin prefect ejaculating in her mouth was proof enough that he very much liked it.
The silence that accompanied them was one of discomfort, it wasn't until they'd reach the Quidditch pitch did Selene try something.
"Tom," Selene asked, her voice as sultry as ever. "What do you say we ditch the books tomorrow and do some...one on one time?" As they walked, she tried to intertwine their hands together.
Tom moved his hand away from her grasp and distanced himself a good foot away from the Sharpe heiress. "No thank you, Miss Sharpe."
A small gasp escaped Selene Sharpe's mouth at the prefect's action towards her. It took her no more than a millisecond to recover from her initial shock. "Oh, but why not? All you do is over work yourself." Selene smirked as the next words floated out of her mouth, " I can help you relax-I'll even do all the work if you'd like."
She means for sex. Tom's nose reacted as if he smelled something putrid. "No, I think I'd rather not." Little by little, Selene started to grate on his very last nerve.
Selene was not used to being told 'no' two times in a row-her parents never did that her- and she'd be damned if any male would do that either.
"Excuse me?" Selene flipped a handful of perfect red curls over her shoulder for dramatic effect. "No? Are you saying no to me? Physically pleasing you?"
Tom was officially tired of her constant need of his attention. He was tired of her constant need for him to shower her with affection.
"I am saying no, Miss Sharpe, to you in general." Tom's voice was firm and cold, something Selene never heard from Tom. The Slytherin prefect's face quickly showed features of a man, annoyed...Something you didn't want to see in a dangerous man. "I'll no longer be meeting with you in the library. I can fix up other ways to get the resources I need."
"How dare you," Selene yelled. "I have never been so insulted!"
Tom arched an eyebrow at the beautiful girl. "Maybe because you're too busy being used to notice."
Selene felt enough hot rage throttle her veins, she could erupted a volcano had she known a spell for specifically that. In one fluid motion, Selene drew out her wand and point it at the handsome boy. "You take that back."
Tom drew out his wand, "Put your wand down Selene." He pointed it with ease at the pure-blooded witch, "You've no idea what exactly who you are going up against."
Selene ignored him, "Bombard-."
Tom flicked his wrist and without even thinking, the words flew out of his mouth. "Crucio!" There was no guilt or conscience that echoed in his body. He had already gave Selene Sharpe a warning-she was the one who uttered the first spell.
It was by no means his fault that she wasn't fast enough for him.
A blood curling scream echoed throughout the Quidditch pitch; Selene Sharpe writhed in pain. It was everywhere: all over her skin, inside her body, the pain consumed her. She let out another scream.
"You were warned." Tom pointed his wand down at the Ravenclaw student. "So sad though, that you won't remember not to raise your wand at me again."
Selene tried to raise her wand up, but was still in too much pain to even take ahold of her wand-her vision was blurred as well.
"Obliviate." Tom was calm as he noticed all it took was the Forgetfulness charm for Selene to close her eyes and fall asleep with pain.
No more hindrances, Tom thought as he put his wand away. He was about to walk as far away from the Quidditch pitch as possible, he'd even leave Selene there for her to wake in a dazed and confused state….
The sound of something heavy and clunky colliding with the ground ultimately caused Tom Riddle to freeze in his tracks and look over to the Quidditch stands.
There was a witness...Tom was slightly grateful though, when he apparated to the figure and found a scared Hufflepuff.
Ophelia was almost as pale as snow at the sight that unfolded in front of her. She wanted to run as soon as she saw Selene and Tom at the pitch in the first place, but she was curious at first as to why they were arguing.
At first, she thought it was a lover's spat. She couldn't have been anymore far off from what actually went down.
Ophelia was paralyzed with fear. He used a cruciatus curse on her! He used an Unforgivable curse on her!
Her eyes were shut tight but tears were violently streaming down her face. Tom's tall figure loomed over her like a bad omen.
She was going to meet the same fate as Selene Sharpe….The universe was not smiling down on me. Ophelia flinched as heard Tom take a step closer to her body. It thought it would be funny to completely screw me over.
Tom Riddle tried to drink the situation in: there Ophelia Darwin stood in front of him, scared, her eyes shut in anticipation, and quiet. Coincidence, the boy mused, is in my favor.
He brought a pale hand up and carefully wrapped his hand around her neck. He felt her pulse go into a series of panicked and abnormal paces. Using the grip he had on her neck, Tom pulled Ophelia into him and the sweet scent of cinnamon hit his senses like a brick breaking through a glass window. Did she always smell like a cinnamon?
"Ophelia," Tom greeted evenly, "how nice to see you again."
The Hufflepuff only replied with a choked back sob.
He kept one hand firmly on Ophelia's neck; Tom decided he wanted to feel just how terrified she was of him at that exact moment so he wrapped his free arm around Ophelia's waist and looped her even closer.
Even if Ophelia's head was just beneath Tom's eyes, they were chest to chest. The heir of Slytherin felt the Hufflepuff's heart race at uneven paces….She felt warm...
"Riddle," Ophelia said in between sobs, "I promise you, on my life, I will not tell a soul what I saw!"
He smirked at the sudden rush of joy he got from seeing Ophelia at his complete and utter mercy. "I don't know...I can't say I believe you." He moved his grip from her neck to her chin. "Look at me," Tom snapped at her.
Without hesitation, Ophelia snapped her eyes open. There is was: the fear and vulnerability. Tom could have gotten drunk off of it as it left him feeling powerful...Maybe one could say...It aroused his more primal needs as man.
A devious plan formed in his head.
Tom's deep, focused brown eyes met with Ophelia's watery, dull, green eyes.
"Do exactly as I say, Ophelia." He leaned into her; now their foreheads were pressed against each other. "Then I will believe you when you say you't won't tell a soul."
The half-blooded witch shook with fear, but her tears slowly subsided. Ophelia nodded her head with forced eagerness. "I will do exactly as you say, I promise!"
He smiled.
She didn't.