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November 17, 1943
A small groan escaped Ophelia's mouth as her eyes slowly fluttered opened. She stretched her arms above her heads and turned her body over to the left side of the bed. Tom was still asleep next to her, his chest bare, his black hair a mess from sleep, and a calm expression on his face. So many comments in her head flurried in her thoughts all at once but only one true resolution screamed in her head: get out.
...Shit! Ophelia's body shot up from the bed. Tom's room was dark, pitch black almost but thankfully the girl had been in his room often enough to navigate through it in the dark. The half blood was as quiet as she could be in the earliest hours of the morning (Ophelia reckoned it must have been at least two in the morning)-she found her skirt, top, rain boots and robe thrown in a dark corner of the room. She rushed to put her clothing back on her body.
A tired voice interrupted her from putting her robe on. "Going somewhere?" Tom's head was propped up on the palm of one of his hands. His calm expression from sleep was now gone and replaced with his usual blank face.
Ophelia's breath hitched at the sight of him-Tom was damn near perfect. "I need to get back to my room," Ophelia's shoulders wiggled slightly as she fixed her robe. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Tom narrowed his eyes at the girl. "Maybe if you didn't try to leave in the middle of the night you wouldn't have." His voice was deep and raspy from being (accidentally) woken up by the Hufflepuff. Tom Riddle should have sounded menacing when he spoke to her, but it sounded more like a forceful invitation back to his bed.
"I'll try to keep that in mind." Ophelia let out a yawn and quietly walked over to the door, "If there comes a next time between us two."
Ophelia couldn't have seen it, but a smug grin broke on Tom's face. If he knew anything about people in general it is this: Anything done once-once-was not going to occur again. However if it was done a second time-it would happen again and again and again….Especially if he was the main person to initiate the contact between the two of them.
"Be sure not to run into any prefects on your way back to the Hufflepuff common rooms." Tom warned. "Wouldn't want any witnesses see your, what is it called, walk of shame?"
A small flicker of embarrassment ignited in the pit of the girl's stomach. No...She thought to herself, no prefect should be on duty at this time, right? Okay...so I should be fine. Ophelia pretended to be unbothered by Tom's words. "I'll see you around. Good night, Tom." She quietly left the prefect's room and began her hopefully uneventful trek to her room.
Tom let out a yawn and let his head fall back on his pillow. It was almost refreshing to be as exhausted as he was now. Almost. The scent of cinnamon overpowered his senses as Tom tried to fight off sleep. Dumb witch should have just stayed, Tom thought as his eyes came to close.
Something felt off to the Slytherin as Ophelia's presence faded farther and farther away from him.
Dumbledore had a knack for being in the right place at the right time (in his case) just like Ophelia seemed to have a knack for being at the right place and the wrong time (that was debatable though.) Who knew why the professor roamed the halls of Hogwarts at the unruly hours of night but the Hufflepuff was probably not in a position to question her authorities.
I would have rather ran into a prefect!
"Miss Darwin, what are you doing up?"
Ophelia smiled awkwardly at the Transfiguration Professor, as if his answer was somewhere in her stiff smile.
Dumbledore looked at the student with curiosity. "I was told by Lestrange today you missed my class due to an illness, yet here you are out of bed and active. In which case, you must not be too ill."
"Lestrange did?" Ophelia furrowed her brows in confusion. "But I never-." Wait, didn't Tom say something about Lestrange's responsibility to handle their coursework?
Dumbledore prodded on, "You never what, Miss Darwin?"
It's too late to lie now. Ophelia decided to be honest with the professor. Off all the people she could easily lie to (Margo and Peter were mainly the only two on that list….Possibly her mother) she never could bring herself to lie to a man who seemed generally concerned about his students. Ophelia took in a sigh before she opened her mouth to speak. "I never asked Lestrange to relay that message-I usually try to avoid speaking to him at all costs, Professor."
"Ah," Dumbledore gave her a look, one with slight mischief in his eyes. He probably thought the girl skipped class on her own will and Lestrange tried to play her knight in shining armour. Dumbledore was certain since Darwin's and Lestrange's second year-the Slytherin pureblood's beady little eyes constantly drifted to the Hufflepuff's general direction. "So where were you then?"
Again, Ophelia figured it was too late to lie and spouted the truth off her tongue. "I...I ended up with Tom the past few hours." She saw the slight mischief in her professor's eyes quickly disappear-it was replaced with worry. "I was actually," Ophelia cleared her throat. "I just left his room not too long ago."
You should have lied, the thoughts in her heads were embarrassed by how suddenly open she became with the Transfiguration teacher.
"I see…" Dumbledore's voice trailed off. Questions swam in his head like a hurricane at a breakneck speed. He knew Ophelia was a good girl from a nice family, in a stable and consistent environment-Ophelia was not the type to be dark and bothered and haunted. Tom RIddle on the other hand was exactly that and more...It worried the professor to an extent about Ophelia and Tom-he usually never had to worry about that sort of thing but the broody young man's sudden want to spend more time with the half blood left him uneasy.
"So…" Ophelia started off, "How many points will be taken from Hufflepuff and what is my detention?"
Dumbledore only sighed and lightly patted the girl's shoulder as he walked away from her. "No points are to be taken from you, Miss Darwin-."
A smile broke out on Ophelia's face, "Oh, heavens, yes!"
"-But you should be weary of Tom, that is all I ask of you."
I was weary...I really was. Ophelia nodded her head, she knew if there was a time to spill her guts to Dumbledore about anything or anyone it would be now. Though all she really had to give away was one incident of Tom using the Cruciatus Curse- and even then, if it that was all she had to give-was an accusation from a sixteen year old really going to do anything?
Do I even have have to guts to do that? Ophelia immediately knew the answer as soon as she asked herself that. No...Ophelia Darwin didn't have the guts to turn on..well...She just didn't have the guts.
"Professor," The half-blooded witch started out, "You needn't worry about me. I'm sorry I missed your class." Ophelia's voice softened, "It won't happen again."
Dumbledore merely looked on at the student, as if that alone was going to let Ophelia know she'd be fine and back to her normal routine. "Hurry back to your room." The Professor's voice was soft.
Ophelia only nodded her head once at the Professor and did just was suggested of her.
Once in the girls' dorm room, Ophelia found Margo fast asleep in her bed.
Why Margo was in Ophelia's bed and not her own bed was beyond the half-blood.
Margo's arms were crossed against her chest, her blonde hair was littered with pink rollers, and a muggle copy of 'A Midsummer's Night Dream' was tossed off to the right side of the bed.
The half-blooded witch only shook her head at the sight of the pure-blooded witch and crawled into bed. Ophelia woke up Margo in doing so.
"Where have you been?" Margo's voice was quick and loud even if she was doing her best to whisper. "Why are you still in your school robes?"
Ophelia only snuggled into her pillows.
"Pipa!" Margo poked her friend's face. "You were supposed to help me understand Shakespeare!"
"I can't help you understand Shakespeare. I can barely understand Divination." Ophelia swatted Margo's finger away from her face. She sighed and picked the book up and flipped through the pages. Thank Merlin this copy has pictures! "Basically, it is a love triangle with four people-."
"Wouldn't that make it a love square-."
"-It also has to do with, like, magic and toying around with people and love."
Margo smiled. "So like us!"
Ophelia frowned. "No. Not like us." Who even was 'us'-wizards and witches?
"Fine." Margo snuggled into Ophelia's bed and gave her friend a teasing look. "More like you and Tom then, instead of Peter and I."
At first Ophelia was going to comment on how Margo finally admitted to there being a 'thing' between her and Peter, but Ophelia's mind pretty much paused at the other comparison that was made. "Tom and I?" Ophelia questioned. She tried to keep her cool, slowly in her head, Ophelia tried to remember if she ever told Margo anything out of the ordinary.
"Believe me Pipa," Margo said as she stifled a yawn. "Tom seems like the type to toy with you, as nice as he is. I have heard so many rumors about Tom and so many other girls. I heard he and Selene Sharpe-. "
He isn't nice, at all. Ophelia only yawned and pulled a blanket cover over her body. "Goodnight, Margo."
"But I bet you anything, he probably would be a good shag." Margo chuckled. "If you ever happen to find out, let me know."
A small flare of jealousy and insecurity heated Ophelia up for a moment. It took Ophelia a few seconds to realize that Margo was only joking and only really had a focus on Peter Elwood.
Relief settled over Ophelia. "I said goodnight, Margo."
"Goodnight Pipa."
Both girls only got five more hours of sleep before they woke up again.
Tom saw Ophelia enter the Great Hall with her books tucked close to her chest. He watched as she took her usual spot at the Hufflepuff table-across from her friends.
An unfamiliar static like sensation started at the pit of his stomach as Tom continued to watch the half-blooded witch. I'm probably still tired, the young man thought as he pushed the food on his plate around. Which, I really wouldn't have been if that dumb witch didn't leave in the middle of the night.
He glared on unsuspectedly at Ophelia's form. How could someone be so unaware they were being watched?
Tom frowned.
He hated her.
He hated her for how oblivious she was.
He hated her for how simple minded she could be.
He hated her for her sincerity she seemed to constantly have for him.
Most of all: he hated her lack of serious ambition. Don't ask Tom why, he hated that the most about her. He was just so certain that since they met-that was his biggest pet peeve about Ophelia and it would stay that way.
Being too caught up in his own rambles about a specific Hufflepuff; Tom Riddle didn't notice the shifty glance Lestrange gave him.
Lestrange nudged Malfoy and once he got Malfoy's attention- Lestrange gestured carefully the their leader (who was still in a deep contemplation of how much he could not stand Ophelia).
Malfoy donned a look of slight disgust when he took note of the half-blood their lord, leader, and master was looking at. He was not interested in following a leader who pinned for a girl who was born from a squib and mudblood. The thought of that alone made Malfoy shudder.
Lestrange concealed his happiness about Malfoy's reaction. If he could get Malfoy to agree with him-he could get the others to agree with him as well.