Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I also do not own the lyrics used in this chapter. The lyrics used were written by Cole Porter for the song 'You'd be so nice to come home to.' I only the plot and any original characters you might notice.
I do not have a beta to help with any errors in this chapter and this is a long so it might have a bunch of errors. Let me know and I will fix it as soon as I can.
Thank you for reading this! Thank you to all those who favorite and follow this series! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Also a big thank you to those who review! It lets me know that this story is being read and doing decently! Let me know what you think or let me know what you think will happen next. Anyways, enjoy!
November 20, 1943
...At least they're happy.
"God, Peter," Ophelia joked as she sat on a recliner next to the loveseat her friends were on. "It finally happened! You're finally learning how to read! Bless my eyes to have the pleasure to witness such an event!"
"Ha-ha-ha." Peter threw his head back as he forced his fake laugh. "Yes. Sometimes men like me have to read otherwise I'll just be a pretty face. " A smile came to Peter's lip and he nudged Margo's side. "My mother told me to worry about you girls who'd only use me my for my physique."
Margo smiled; her wide grin reminded both Peter and Ophelia that of a Cheshire cat. "Oh?" Margo put down her book. "Since we are on the topic of your physique, Peter, you need to cut back on the pudding."
Peter's eyes widened, his smile faded, the book in his hands was practically thrown behind him as they then darted defensively to his stomach. "Do I really?"
Ophelia chuckled lightly but said nothing as Peter began to start pinching himself in the abdomen. What is he trying to grab at-a slab of muscle? I probably have more fat in my right pinky than he has in his entire body.
Margo's smile dropped as she tried to get Peter to listen to her. "No-no-no." The beautiful blonde shook her at the brunette boy, "I was kidding-stop pinching yourself, Peter-you still have a perfect six-pack." Margo locked her eyes with Ophelia's, "Right, Pipa?
The half-blooded witch arched an eyebrow and let out a coy smirk (something she must have learned from Tom, probably.)
"I don't know Margo-I've never seen Peter without a shirt on." Ophelia leaned closer to her friends on the loveseat, both hands tucked under her chin, and her smirk even wider. She must have resembled that aunt at every family gathering who always found the most inappropriate topic to focus on with her nieces and nephews. Ophelia tried to contain her giggles as she spoke. "Please, tell me how you know Peter has a perfect six-pack?"
Margo only turned red and Peter look genuinely confused himself. Yes...Peter wondered, how does Margo know I have a six-pack?
Ophelia felt someone try to squeeze themselves into the recliner with her, she felt someone add pressure on top of her head, as if she was a personal armrest.
A male voice spoke up. "Elwood, are these ladies bullying you again?"
"William Zolotov," Ophelia started as she pushed his arm off her head, "You know we'd never do such a thing to our beloved Peter."
"Our beloved Peter is going to be the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team when I leave, remember?-"
Shit, I forgot Zolotov is a seventh year.
"We don't need him to be an emotional mess because some girls made fun of him."
William Zolotov, like the two other magic users Ophelia Darwin acquainted herself with, was a pure-blood. He had a long and narrow face, a slender nose, a weak jawline but a strong chin, and high cheek bones that practically stuck out. William had strawberry blonde hair, which was kept in an undercut style with his hair at the top combed neatly over to the side. Also for someone who could afford any type of clothing he wanted (not including the uniforms) he rather liked baggy, more plain looking clothes-which always boggled Margo and Peter. William Zolotov would joke with them that he under dressed because with a face as handsome as his-did he really even need clothes?
A small look of distaste popped on Margo's face. "Speaking of girls and poking fun, that sweater is hideous."
Ophelia and Peter both turned their gaze over to William.
"Okay, so?" The seventh year started, "What do you want me to do about it?"
Margo smiled her Cheshire Cat smile.
The next thing Ophelia, Peter, and William knew-they suddenly made an impromptu visit to Hogsmeade. Margo spouted on about the fashion forward trends for winter; Ophelia internally rolled her eyes; all the while Peter and William chatted about Quidditch.
Back to the cold, Ophelia huffed quietly so Margo could talk.
"Is my sweater really that ugly?" William asked Ophelia as the two soon found themselves in one of the many shops in Hogsmeade. "This is a classic, knitted sweater."
"Classic sweaters don't look great with stains of who knows what on them." Ophelia chided as she looked through the clothes in the shop. Her arms were tucked and crossed neatly across her chest; she didn't have the money to buy the clothes that surrounded her and was scared if she touched even on piece of fabric, Ophelia feared that one touch would have ruined the clothing.
William Zolotov pointed to the stain on his left shoulder. "I am sure one of these stains has to be blood from when I got into a fist fight with Parkinson." William pointed to a dark stain on the bottom edge of his sweater. "I am almost positive this stain was when I puked my guts out because I drank too much."
"Ah, a rich boy who gets into fights and cannot control his liquor. How charming." Ophelia chuckled as she walked deeper into the men's clothing section.
"Oh, but I am-a true charmer." William stated off-handedly as he began to shift through a rack of new sweaters. His tone wasn't spiteful, bitter, or condescending. Hell, it didn't sound even 'matter- of-factly'. ..Unlike someone else Ophelia spent the earlier part of her day with.
William's voice was mixture of funny and overconfident.
"If that thought helps you sleep at night, so be it, William." Ophelia whispered.
William immediately went over and picked the hanger of the rack; a faded yellow sweater with a shawl collar. He arched an eyebrow at the half-blooded witch. "Yellow? Is is because I am a Hufflepuff, you just assume I like yellow-."
Ophelia cut him off. "It matches your brown eyes and it helps to bring them out."
"How thoughtful of you." William started off with a joking tone. "I hear Ravenclaw is throwing a party tonight."
Margo and Peter were in the same shop as Ophelia and William, they toured the female section.
"Ravenclaw ?" Ophelia waved over at Margo and Peter's direction and gestured for them to come over. "Why are they throwing a party for?"
"Party?" Peter's ears picked up on that word quickly. "Where?"
"Ravenclaw, apparently." Ophelia answered.
"They'll be going into their social hibernation here soon, you know," William went on, "exams and such are upon us."
Peter smiled as if he was a child on Christmas morning. "May our glasses never empty!"
Margo sang her part, "May our livers be healthy."
Ophelia smiled as she finished their little chant. "And if we must leave a stranger's bed, let us be stealthy."
The eldest member of the Hufflepuff group only tilted his head to side with a look of confusion. So, Zolotov thought, do I have to make my words rhyme too? "So...are you lot coming with me to the party or not?"
"Again, my Lord," Lestrange whimpered as he bowed at Tom's feet. "I am sorry for my...transgressions against you."
Dolohov, Nott, Rosier, Avery, and even Malfoy were all present in the Slytherin common room. With exception of Malfoy (who had nothing to recover from to be so honest), the other members had recovered from their incidents in the forest.
A quiet rage bubbled inside of Tom but it was easy enough to ignore for the time being. Nothing else better ruin this day. Tom's jaw was locked in tense matter; teeth clamped down on teeth.
He was going to be merciful today towards the bastards who were so willing to cut him down and try to take his spot as leader. Tom decided that if he wanted to , indeed, extend his power and reach on all levels of the wizarding world: he needed as many pure-bloods as he could get.
The room was tense-all the pure-blooded boys awaited with a strained breath as to what words would come from the heir of Slytherin's mouth.
"Do not mistake this for weakness." Tom's charming voice echoed loudly around the Slytherin common room. "I will show a smear of forgiveness to you Lestrange." His voice slowly began to lace itself with venom. "You're too daft to realize what you've done."
An awkward laugh from Rosier was heard-he thought that was a joke of some sort and forced himself to laugh.
Tom silenced Rosier with a simple glance, not a glare, but a simple glance. The heir of Slytherin spoke again. "Even though under no circumstance, will I forget your act of cowardice and spite. Nor will I forget how incapable any of you are when I'm not around." A cruel smile came onto Tom's lips. There was just something so pleasant about breaking a person's self esteem down into rubble. "Keep that in mind, for next time."
Tom knew very fine and well that there would never be a next time.
Malfoy walked over to Tom, he practically kicked Lestrange off to the side as he approached their leader. "So are we back to being Knights of Walpurgis?"
Tom narrowed his eyes at the young man with platinum blonde hair. "Why does it matter?"
Malfoy kept a hold on his calm demeanor. "No reason-just curious to see if we had another meeting?" Being a member, or knight, of a selective group meant little to Malfoy. He just wanted to make sure that he was still in relatively decent standing with Tom Riddle.
How trivial. Tom frowned, "Worry about something else, Malfoy."
With those that flew out of Tom's mouth; Nott opened his. Nott went on and on about a party being hosted by the bookish Ravenclaw students.
That quiet rage inside of Tom was slowly building up to a storm of rage. Perfect...Tom grimaced as he thought to himself. The night I actually have to do my prefect duties, I might actually have to work and watch for other people's well being.
A small part of his day might have been ruined just at the thought alone.
Margo watched from the edge of her bed as Ophelia got dressed and ready. A small, half-frown on her face.
"Pipa?"
"Hm?" Ophelia mumbled as she pulled a black turtleneck sweater over her head. Already there was a brown tweed skirt on her legs.
Margo went straight to the point. "You're not repeating an outfit are you?"
"Margo." Ophelia's shoulders slumped down with a huff. "No one will remember what I wore to the last party."
A terrified, over-exaggerated gasp flew from Margo's mouth. "I remember! Last time I checked, I'm not 'no one' to you!" The posh blonde crossed her arms against her chest and let out a dramatic sigh.
"Oh, stop it." The brunette looked at herself in the mirror and checked herself out from different side profiles. "I look fit-you even said so yourself."
"That look is so last month!" Margo stood up from her bed and waltzed over to her closet. "Pipa, at least lose the turtleneck...and the skirt….and everything else."
"All I have on is a turtleneck and skirt." Ophelia narrowed her eyes at the pure-blood.
A high pitched whine came from the Blaine heiress. "Pipa!"
"Look," Ophelia rushed to Margo's closet. Green eyes scanned the closet until it landed on one specific article of clothing. Ophelia grabbed at a pastel green, silk, shawl and draped it over the crook of her elbows. "Better?"
It didn't make much of a difference.
Margo only grumbled. "Fine. Whatever."
I'm not Peter, Ophelia thought happily to herself as they walked down into their house common room. 'Fine' and 'Whatever' doesn't phase me. Nothing's going to phase me tonight...I hope.
Ophelia Darwin had a fairly shitty week by most standards and definitions of the word 'shitty'. Tom wasn't going to give her any insight as to why his cruel, terrible friends involved her in their cruel, terrible business; he wasn't going to pay her any mind; and obviously their previous way of functioning no longer existed.
With all of those thoughts being replayed in her mind, the Hufflepuff decided then and there (as her and her friends walked to the Ravenclaw common room at the late hours of night)-alcohol would be her remedy.
Just no Fire Whiskey, Ophelia reasoned with herself as she greeted some other fellow classmates. Gin-yes. Vodka-yes. Brandy-yes.
Ophelia grabbed Peter and Margo's hands and pushed through the crowds; she didn't pay any mind to William. If he wanted to drink with them-then fine-if not, oh well.
What many students loved about when Ravenclaw so rarely threw a party, was the fact that everything was indeed planned out ahead of time. The lighting of where the party took place had a perfect light blue hue; any valuable furniture used for comfort or studying had been removed to make for more space (they must have heard Peter Elwood wanted to come to their party and remembered how he ruined a good amount of his own common room's furniture) ; there was even a little table set filled with snacks if a witch or wizard felt peckish.
The nice, ten foot long bar stand was the lovely icing on the cake to the Ravenclaw common room for the night. A Ravenclaw, who by the looks of it seemed to be a sixth year stood confidently behind the bar. "Pick your poison."
Ophelia knew she had to answer before Peter opened his mouth. `"Four shots of gin, please!"
"I don't drink gin." William said as he wedged himself next to Peter.
Ophelia never took her gaze off the bartender and smiled, "Two of those shots are for me. The other two," She pointed her fingers at Peter and Margo, "are for these two."
"Ah." The bartender flicked his wand, shot glasses floated to the bar stand, a large bottle of gin so followed and began to pour itself in front of the Hufflepuffs. "Any chasers?"
Again, Ophelia's mouth had to be faster than Peter's. "Nope!"
Peter's eyes widened slightly. "I'm not drunk enough to take shots of gin straight yet."
Ophelia grabbed her two shot glasses, one in each hand. "Last one to down their drinks before me has to take another straight shot of gin." As soon as Ophelia said that, she easily got one shot of gin down and moved onto the next. There was a slight urge to gag as the hard liquor assaulted her taste buds, but she powered through regardless.
"Pipa! You cheater!" Margo coughed as she was the last the finish her shot.
Ophelia smiled and turned the bartender once more. "Another two shots of gin, please. One for me." The brunette pointed to herself before she pointed a finger to Margo. "One for this lovely lady."
William, Peter, and Margo exchanged a look. Their favorite half-blooded witch was in rare form tonight.
Ophelia was already back to asking for another drink from the Ravenclaw behind the bar. The brunette looked at her friends and flashed a smile. "Well? Are you guys at least going to try and catch up with me?"
Drinks were poured, the music in the room got louder and sounded better, people brushed up against each other and soon people started to dance: jazz, swing, a sloppy version of classical dancing, there might have been an Irish jig going on somewhere in that mess too.
William paired himself off with a nice seventh year from Gryffindor. Naturally, Margo and Peter found themselves joking and dancing with the messy crowd of people-occasionally they took turns to check on Ophelia who stayed at the bar.
"No date tonight?" The Ravenclaw asked as his swished his wand one way or another to pour drinks for other party goers as they stumbled to the bar stand.
Ophelia held up a tall shot glass of vodka to the bartender's face, smiled, then kissed her shot glass. "No date needed."
"Are you going to dance?" The boy with no name asked.
Someone is sure curious. Ophelia downed her shot of vodka, and pressed her lips together. To lie or be honest?
"Too drunk to dance maybe?" The boy moved on, another wave of his wand and the shot glass in between the two magic users refilled itself.
Damn it, I must have taken too long to answer. Ophelia answered anyways, "I never-I never- learned how to dance-dance lessons ar-aren't cheap in the muggle world." Her words slurred terribly and she was pretty sure she bit either her tongue or cheek as she tried to talk. "You dancer?"
She meant to say: "Are you a dancer?"
The Ravenclaw bartender only grabbed the refilled shot glass and down a shot a vodka before Ophelia could do it.
"Hey!" Ophelia pointed to the now empty shot glass with a look of pure sadness. "My vodka…"
"You need to be cut off." The Ravenclaw said as he pushed a glass of water towards her.
"Don't tell me what to do-Mister…" Ophelia was going to yell out the Ravenclaw's last name out, but then she realized she had no bloody clue who the hell who he was. "Mister…Ravenclaw Bartender?"
"Look," The young man looked into her eyes and tried to get Ophelia to see reason. "You've drank hard liquor with no chasers since you've got here. How many shots do you think you've had."
"Four!" Ophelia yelled as she pushed the unwanted cup of water away from her. She wasn't counting..but it only felt like she had four shots so four was a good and reasonable answer.
A laugh tore through the young man's body; a genuine laugh. "You've had over four."
"Fi-five?" The drunk girl questioned.
"Nope."
"Six?"
"No."
"Seven-yes-seven?"
The Ravenclaw boy sighed and drew away from the drunk girl on the opposite side of his bar stand. "You've had over that-."
Ophelia clapped her hands suddenly as an action to silence the boy. Why was a stranger interested in how many drinks she's had? She supposed she could have given 'Mister Ravenclaw Bartender' a benefit of the doubt and write him off as overly observant-but still-Ophelia just wanted to get shit faced.
Is that too much to ask for?
"Fine." Ophelia pushed herself away from the bar, her legs were wobbly and felt numb as she clumsily staggered away. "I'll be out of your hair for the night." Ophelia wasn't sure why but her left hand flew to her forehead and she sloppily made a salute notion to the Ravenclaw male. "Goodnight, Miss-Mister Bartender."
With that Ophelia Darwin left, unnoticed by William, Peter, and Margo. The Ravenclaw bartender shook his head and went back to his duty of getting other members of the party fueled on alcohol.
Tom was going along his way to check the Ravenclaw common rooms. As a prefect he had many duties and one of them was making sure that most students were in their own beds, in their proper magical house, in one safe piece. So far he had to escort two Slytherin girls back to their dorm room, he had to pull a knocked out Gryffindor off the statue of Hogwart's first Headmaster, and he had to break up a fight between a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
Take it with a grain of salt, Tom thought to himself as he wandered down the dark halls of Hogwarts. The sound of drunken singing echoed in the halls, Tom rolled his eyes and with gritted teeth went to go seek out the drunk song bird.
"...Under stars chilled by the winter, under an August moon burning above, you'd be so nice, you'd be paradise...To come home to and love…"
As Tom got closer the voice became recognizable. He watched a few feet away from Ophelia, who staggered with each step as she sang slurred, slow, and surprisingly with decent pitch. Tom took note of the shawl draped unevenly on the crook of her elbows, he noticed how Ophelia was twirling the ends of the shawl with her hands as she sang.
"...You'd be so nice to come home to, you'd be so nice by the fire while the breeze on high sang a lullaby..You'd be all that I could desire.."
A mixture of irritation and slight arousal flushed to the Slytherin prefect. Who knew Ophelia was a decent singer-Tom didn't. Sometimes Ophelia's voice when she spoke to him wasn't all the pleasant to listen to, but Tom didn't mind the voice she had when singing...But did Ophelia having to bloody sing now?! It was nearly four in the morning! Who the hell sang a song at four in the morning?
Idiot, Tom thought as he moved closer to the Hufflepuff sixth year. "Ophelia."
The half-blooded witch stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned around. "Y-yes?"
She smelt like a mixture of vodka and cinnamon but Tom found, for whatever strange reason, he didn't find that too off putting at the moment.
"You are aware that you are drunk, wandering the halls at night, being disruptive, and you are out way past curfew?" Tom then added. " I ought to take ten points from Hufflepuff."
The drunk, young lady pulled her lips to a pout. "Did you that with the other drunks you found roaming the halls?"
A smirk came to Tom as he lied straight to Ophelia's face. "No, because you're the only drunk I've found tonight."
"Well…" Ophelia's pout went away. "Why are you out? Shouldn't you be in-."
Tom stopped Ophelia then and there; her current state was rather amusing. "I'm a prefect. Did you drink yourself into a farther state of stupidity than usual tonight?"
If the girl was sober, she would have picked up on the condescending tone directed at her but Ophelia was nowhere near sober. Nor was she going to sober up anytime soon.
Instead a good-natured laugh escaped her lips, Tom's comment was ignored.
"I need to go-to go- to my room," Ophelia whispered as her laughter died down. "So Margo can find me when she gets back."
Where were her friends anyways? Tom arched an eyebrow at the girl. "Did you leave without telling them where you went?"
"Mister Bartender will tell them! I asked him too!" Ophelia snapped at him, she crossed her arms over her chest and began to(drunkenly) waltz off. Wait...Ophelia felt like she forgot something but quickly dismissed it. Nevermind.
"Mister Bartender?" Tom frowned at Ophelia. "What the bloody hell are you-."
"Look Tom," Ophelia slurred. "Are you going to walk me to my room or not?"
Wait, what? The heir of Slytherin wasn't sure he heard her correctly. "Why would I-."
Ophelia interrupted him again, "Then are you going to walk me to your room?" The brunette girl flashed him a flirty, little smile and wrapped her arms around his torso. "You smell like book pages…" Her face pressed into his body, a satisfied hum escaped her mouth and Tom felt it vibrate through his body.
Every muscle in Tom Riddle's body tensed up at how tightly she clung to him; even his member between his legs slowly twitched. This wasn't the Ophelia he was used to.
No, the Ophelia he was used to never tended to initiate the first move or first body contact between the two of them.
"You're drunk." Tom hissed as he pried the girl off of him. "You reek of alcohol, you look like a bloody street urchin, and you sound so fucking stupid right now!" He had her hands in his wrist and he forcefully pushed her body towards a solid wall. "You think I'd be attracted to a harlot like-."
You should kiss him. So she did.
Ophelia's lips gently brushed against Tom's; it silenced the boy's rude ramblings. With her wrists still tightly held in Tom's grip all she could do was stand on her tiptoes and place gentle, sweet kisses against Tom's beautiful lips.
Tom stood still, he accepted the kisses from the young lady but did not reciprocate them.
Ophelia's drunk thoughts were all over the place.
I want to like you...I want you to like me...I want to lay in bed with you again...I want…But I really shouldn't...You're not a good person just as much as I am not a smart person...
Ophelia pulled her lips off of Tom. Tom dropped his hold on Ophelia's wrist, but said nothing as they both stared into the other's eyes.
Brown eyes stared deep into dull green eyes.
Not much could be heard, besides the cold wind howling in the night as snow descended outside. It was a moment in life, where the two teens just stood in silence and thought about the other's presence in life.
Tom was the monster that hid in the shadows-Ophelia knew what he was capable of-he was a terrible person...
Ophelia was drunk, yet her drunk self suddenly seemed to have more sense than when she was sober. She understood it now, she was just the little half-blooded filth of a witch who Tom used in one way or another.
Tears slowly began to fall down Ophelia's eyes; a pain that originated from heart echoed through her body.
"Hey!" Tom snapped as he began to notice the tears."Why are you doing that?" He didn't understand, she was the one who kissed him and know she was sobbing? "Ophelia, what the hell is wrong with you?"
A broken smile inched to Ophelia's face, gently she brought her right hand up to Tom's cheek and gently caressed his face. The Hufflepuff stood up on her tiptoes once again and placed another chaste and sweet kiss onto the Slytherin's lips.
"Ophelia!" Tom's voice sounded like a warning. "What are you doing?" Why was this girl acting so strangely all of a sudden?
"Saying goodnight, Tom." Ophelia whispered as she drew herself away from Tom. Her drunk steps led her farther and farther away from Tom. "I'll w-walk myself to the Hufflepuff house entrance."
Something in Tom's gut twisted as the girl walked away, but it would be nothing compared to how sharp the pain in Ophelia's heart felt.
Idiot, Tom shook his head as Ophelia's figure disappeared into the darkness of the halls. Bloody, filthy idiot.