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 classical music pieces listed in this chapter. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.
Again, I am so terribly sorry about the late updates and how it seems I don't have a set date as to when I post new chapter. I know before I moved I had to upload a new story late on Sunday nights. Now, unfortunately I hardly have any spare time on Sundays. Guys, I am so sorry about that. Sorry about the wait!
Hopefully, you guys enjoy the chapter. I want to say thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. It shows me that people are interested this story and that I should continue. Please,please,please leave some reviews if you can! Thank you!
December 23, 1943
Wendy Darwin was not happy but she could not feel too disappointed. She tried to keep her negative comments to herself about Ophelia's expulsion, as per her husband's request. She also had to keep calm and strong. Ophelia was the only child Wendy had and she couldn't afford to lash out at the only person who gave her the joy of becoming a mother. The middle aged woman with fading, dishwater blonde hair rushed to get ingredients to make pancakes for breakfast-a task that kept her busy from putting guilt and pressure on her daughter.
Ben Darwin, who was more aware of his wife's emotions better than anyone quietly sipped his tea and pretended to read the quaint, uneventful newspaper of West Berkshire (he had already read through all the news about the war.)
"Are you going to tell me why you're too quiet this early in the morning."
Wendy rolled her brown eyes at her husband. "Pipa is still sleeping and if she still insists on going to that engagement party of Margo's, who knows how late and how long she'll be out."
Ben lowered the newspaper that obscured his vision from seeing his wife hustle about in their kitchen. His green eyes, just a slight bit brighter than the other green eyed member in the house, followed Wendy around as she did...whatever she did in the kitchen. "Alright, that's fine. Though why are you even in the kitchen so early? You hate cooking breakfast."
"I may hate cooking breakfast but growing children need to eat." Wendy promptly replied as she began to get the batter for pancakes sorted.
Ben ran a hand through his graying hair, it was an odd shade of brown with specks of white mixed in there. "Wendy, your daughter is a hop and skip away adulthood. I don't think she qualifies as a growing child anymore."
Wendy has not having any of that. "Pipa is asleep in my house, in the bedroom I decorated, with a closet I organized for her. As far as I am concerned, she is a growing child until she is out of my house."
The head of the house, only sighed and went back to pretending to read his boring newspaper. Technically, Ben thought quietly to himself. It's my house...
Ophelia Darwin was not asleep in bed, she had already been up for nearly three hours before anyone else. She just stayed in bed. It felt odd to hear the distant voices of her parents instead of waking up to Margo lecture her on how she needed to be to class on time.
A chorus of knocks echoed on the door. "Pipa?" It was her Poppa. "Are you decent?"
Ophelia kicked her blankets off her body, revealing that she was indeed decent. The former Hufflepuff student was already dressed in a plain and simple, long sleeved tea dress with a pale blue shade to it. She paired it with black stockings underneath.
The pale green eyed teen opened her bedroom door, "Hey Poppa."
"Office, please." Gregory Darwin walked over to a blank space in the wall; he drew his wand out and drew his initials on the wall: G.D. In split second, a deep red, four panel door appeared on the wall. The eldest member of the Darwin family opened the door and gestured for his granddaughter to follow him him.
Ophelia liked being in Poppa's office, it smelled faintly of mint and oolong tea. She never knew why, but it suited her grandfather either way. Ophelia sat herself on a gray ottoman that did not at all match the deep purple recliner that it was often paired with.
Poppa took to his bookshelf, pulling and tossing books carelessly on a thick rug to mute the sound of a harsh 'bang' with every book he threw down. He remembered how much his granddaughter hated that noise.
Ophelia waited for her Poppa to stop tossing books about to ask her question. There was a total of ten books scattered over the rug. "What's all this? Are we bringing back bedtime stories?" The brunette inched the ottoman she sat on closer to mess of books and grabbed the one with most interesting cover. "Magic In Lesser Known Regions of the World?" Ophelia arched an eyebrow at the book, sat it down, then reached for a different book. "Natural Healing of the First Nation People in the Americas." What a mouthful, Ophelia frowned at the title and went on to a third book. "Powerful Superstitions, Charms and Curses in the Pacific?"
Gregory Darwin couldn't help but smile. He loved to make Pipa guess as to what was going on. "Well? What do you think?"
Ophelia started to flip through the book she held in her hands. "What I think…" She saw a picture in the book move. It showed a wrinkled old woman, bare chested and wearing a skirt of some kind, walking towards a stream of water and emerging herself into the water. Ophelia flipped the page and the next picture revealed a much younger and even more beautiful woman walking out of the water. The former Hufflepuff closed the book and looked at her grandfather carefully. "I think these books are….Interesting."
Poppa smiled, "I am glad you're interested in these books."
Ophelia smiled at her Poppa. "Were these yours-."
He interrupted the teen from speaking. "You have five months to finish reading all these books, I expect two books per month won't be too hard. After five months is up, you will take everything you have learned from these books and apply them to real life!" A glint of excitement flared up in the old man's eyes. He'd never got to see the world, but maybe that fate didn't have to land on Ophelia.
"What?" Ophelia nearly screamed, she wasn't sure she heard right. "Why? How come?"
With such a calm and authoritative voice, Gregory Darwin easily replied to back to his granddaughter. "There is more than one way for you to learn about magic Ophelia. You don't need Hogwarts, or Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons, or any other fancy castle, rooted on secret grounds to learn about magic."
Oh, Margo is going to get a kick out of this. Ophelia looked for a clock in her grandfather's office, she couldn't find one but she supposed she only had roughly eleven more hours to go until Margo's engagement party.
"I mean it!" Gregory Darwin could feel that Ophelia was not taking him seriously. "You think breathing in stale air and roaming through pretty corridors is the only way to learn anything? I loved Hogwarts, so, so much! Though there is always more to learn and different places and ways to learn magic."
Ophelia was not one to yell at her Poppa, but the old man still deserved an answer. "That was the only way I've been taught to learn." She shook her head in subtle manner; she was confused by that statement not angered or challenged by it. "I can't unlearn that something that…" Flashes of her first through sixth year zoomed in her head, as if someone selected clips of her time in Hogwarts and violently pressed fast forward.
While her friends' faces were in there, Tom Riddle's face would burst random in her memory. His dark, sometimes almost sinister eyes boring in her mind's eye as if he could see her in that very moment. It burned her esteem, and hurt her soul how little Tom regarded her.
Slowly at first, then fast the next: emotions from differents scales flooded Ophelia's senses.
I would have never gotten in this mess if I had just stayed away from Tom-fucking-Riddle!
I should have liked Edmund! Why couldn't I have liked Edmund?
I could have been a much better student if I paid more attention to my studies and if I wasn't damn occupied with please Tom!
Merlin, why the fuck did I spend so much time and effort and wasted affection on...On Tom!?
What the sodding hell, Ophelia! What did you think was going to happen?
Did you hope Tom Riddle would suddenly snap and appreciate you for you? Call you his? Put a ring on your finger and you'd get married?...Christ, Ophelia, you can be such a fool!
"You know what, Poppa?" Ophelia's voice sounded hoarse, as if she spent a whole two days and nights crying. There were no tears or proof that she'd been crying in the moment Ophelia had realized she meant shit all to Tom. "I can't unlearn something, but maybe I could learn something different."
Gregory Darwin smiled, then panicked briefly before happily chucking that dreadful sense of worry to the ground. Ah, I'm sure Wendy and Ben won't mind if we took a trip to America after winter holiday.
Ophelia decided to hold off on telling Margo anything for now.
Peter Elwood was jealous and somewhat of nervous ball dressed in a nicely fitted (but uncomfortable new) light brown suit. It was a given he'd be nervous because who knew exactly how the night was going to end and who exactly would be engaged to Margo. Peter swallowed a quick shot of water as he was worried if there was correct time the Blaine heiress wanted everyone to start drinking.
The main reason as to why Peter Elwood was jealous was because it had been at least two hours, and nearly a week since he got to see Margo and Ophelia had been spending time with the beautiful blonde witch.
"I didn't even get time to ask Pipa to scramble up some answers!" The brunette male told the Russian wizard, who sat next to him in the parlour room of the Blaine manor.
William helped himself to the best champagne he thought tasted decent enough to start the night. The Russian still had at least twelve different champagne brands to try. "Pete, you didn't even get time to tell Pipa what questions to ask so you could get your answers." William couldn't help but feel unexplainably giddy, he had reasons to!
For one, the Russian wizard looked amazing in his dusty purple and well structured suit. Two: he knew good and well there was going to be some damn great food. Three: Margo was going to engaged. Four: Peter was going to perfectly fine. Five: Pipa was back! Six: Margo's mom said that if they behaved and everything went fine, they could all stay the night.
William Zolotov was sure this night was going to be amazing for members involved.
"Here." The seventh year student started to pour a glass of champagne for Peter. "Start pregaming."
Peter huffed but took the fancy glass of champagne out of William's hands and began to chug the liquid like it was flavorless as water.
Ophelia looked in awe of her best friend. She smiled as Vanessa Gought-Blaine continued to finish up on Margo's look for the night. Already, the loud music and random chatter of guests could be heard so effortlessly. The former Hufflepuff student sipped the wine that Margo's mother insist she try. It tasted exactly like peaches.
"You look lovely, Margo." Ophelia took note of Margo's stunning white dress: the corset bodice was beaded with golden beads which did not fade into to bottom of her ball gown style dress. Margo's hair was let down and curled, instead of being pinned up and pulled into a series of tight braids or buns.
Margo smiled over at her friend. "Do I really?" She wasn't trying to fish for more complements but it was more that the first time of her life: Margo did not feel confident in her skin. "I don't look too much?"
"A child of mine? Too much?" Vanessa teased her daughter as she stepped back to admire Margo's look for the night. "Darling, there is no such thing as too much."
"You look positively beautiful." Ophelia put the recently empty glass of wine down and walked over to Margo. Her hand was faced palm up to Margo. "Shall we?"
Margo took her friend's hand and squeezed tight. "Let's go. I have a fiance to impress."
There, Ophelia could have laughed. That's the Margo Blaine I know.
Tom Riddle was a smart man, he would and could make things happen how he wanted them to and when he wanted them to. He relaxed in his chair as he watched the guest and host of this special event.
The heir of Slytherin leaned over to the more competent of his lackies. "Any word on who she is to marry, Malfoy?"
Abraxas only shrugged as they watched the beautiful pureblood descend down a long staircase. "I'm wondering how you still got invited with Campion here."
"I happen to be very well liked with the purebloods in our school." Tom replied confidently. He wasn't paying too much attention to what was being announced from the gentleman, who Tom assumed was Margo Blaine's father. "Miss Blaine seems to enjoy my company more than that of her half-brother."
Tom's brown eyes scanned around the massive room him and bunch of other witches and wizards. Admittedly, Tom was not the best dressed wizard out and about the Blaine manor with only a plain black suit but he was probably the most handsome wizard present. He overheard chatter from some older, white headed witches that the possible descendant of Hufflepuff might make an appearance. How exciting.
Malfoy was more attentive to what was going on. Margaret Blaine really was a sight to see; all dressed in white and standing nervously to find out who her husband would be.
Lestrange whispered over to Rosier. "I almost wished I could be getting engaged."
Rosier rolled his eyes. "I really pity the poor woman who has to marry you and put up with your…" Rosier had to think of the word. "Well, you. I pity the woman who has to marry you."
Nott's eyes scanned the area, looking for a pleasant body to rest his sights on. He found a familiar brunette he spoke to once. Her hair was pinned up in a low, twisted bun with an elegant hair bun pin attached. "Is that…?" He let the question dangle in the air.
Malfoy, Lestrange, and Rosier turned their heads to wait Nott was gawking at. They recognized the female in an instant, Lestrange especially.
"Ophelia Darwin," Lestrange watched as the half-blooded witch waltzed over to William Zolotov. Lestrange's hungry eyes raked over her figure every chance they got and he felt no guilt. The former Hogwarts student wore a silk salmon pink, column dress that had an off the shoulder style to it.
Tom felt as if the acid in his stomach tried to bubble and explode in his body. He slowly turned over to look at the girl he watched walk away from the only place he thought was home. This fucking witch...Tom thought both with bitterness and dejection. "Lestrange." Tom barked with a sharp tone. "Don't look at her for the rest of the night and don't try to ask her for a dance."
Lestrange listened to the command, he set his sights on a different girl who he believed was not as pretty the half-blooded witch.
"The announcement has been made," Malfoy told the young men who sat at the table with him. "Blaine's engagement is to Elwood." Does no one care for these traditions anymore? The sacredness of protecting our blood?
None of the young men (besides Malfoy) really cared but they all joined in the round of applause and cheers that erupted all around them.
Tom Riddle watched as Ophelia gave Blaine and Elwood a big hug, Zolotov was behind the group, with a freshly opened bottle of champagne.
He felt neither happiness nor anger by Ophelia's presence.
Ophelia smiled brightly as she danced the night away. The first dance was with William and his bottle champagne.
"Careful," Ophelia teased lightly. "You might get alcohol poisoning."
Zolotov smiled sweetly (or maybe it was more of a drunken smile) at his friend. "I'm Russian, I don't get alcohol poisoning. I just get hung over."
Ophelia only rolled her eyes and took a small sip of the champagne bottle William seem so fond of.
Her second dance was with Peter and his now calmed nerves. Ophelia was starting to feel light headed, as she ended up drinking at least a whole half of a champagne bottle with William. She still had enough sense to follow through on a dance without stepping on Pete's feet.
"Do you think I'll make Margo happy when she marries me?" Peter had one foot on the ground and one foot on cloud nine. "I think I will."
Ophelia gave a drunk giggle. "Peteris, you make her happy now. You've made her the happiest witch in all of Europe!"
Peter gave a mock scoff. "Only Europe? Why not the whole world."
Ophelia sighed and shrugged the way only happy drunks could. "Then make her the happiest witch in all the world."
Peter opened his mouth, to say something smart and witty but another voice spoke before the newly engaged man could.
"Elwood, it looks as if we are to be brother-in-laws."
Fuck me. Ophelia's happy mood deflated a little.
"So it would seem." Peter offered his hand out for Edmund to shake. "Glad you could make it."
Edmund shook hands with Peter. "Family event, couldn't miss it if I was on my deathbed." The French wizard's eyes went over to the half-blooded witch. "Darwin."
"Campion." Ophelia's voice came off more friendly than she wanted it to. She wanted to sound uninterested but instead she sounded delighted, giggly almost. "Hope you're enjoying the night."
"It certainly beats being blasted to the wall with a bombing spell." Edmund was close to glaring at the former Hufflepuff, but he didn't. "I can finally hear properly on my left ear now."
Very flippantly, Ophelia acted as if Edmund's statements had nothing to do with her. She was going to have a fun night-she didn't have to put up with Edmund. "How nice." She turned her attention to Peter. "I'm going to get more champagne. Peter, do you want anything?"
The newly engaged man only shook his head no as his friend marched off and away. Peter looked back at Edmund. "I thought you were told by Margo to stay away from Pipa."
The French wizard sighed. "I know, I was."
Peter scanned around the crowded room, looking for a red headed beauty. "Does your date know you're standing around talking to girls you shouldn't be?"
"Selene went off to powder room to check her makeup and such." Edmund watched as Ophelia's figure blurred out of his sights. "I only wanted to tell Ophelia I was sorry for putting her in a situation. That's all."
Peter rolled his eyes at his future brother-in-law. "Trust me mate, she doesn't want your apology. Leave her be for the rest of the night." He then took it upon himself to remind Edmund of something. "If you see Riddle make sure you don't throw the first punch like last time."
The handsome Ravenclaw decided that was his cue to return back to his date.
Ophelia did not go to get more champagne. She didn't go near the buffet set up, the fondue table, the open bar, or even back to the dance floor. The half-blooded witch easily slipped away from the loud party to the outside gardens of the Blaine manor; she had the comfort of the booming jazz and swing music still lingering strongly in the background.
It made her feel as if she was still apart of the celebration.
As Ophelia walked around the garden, no traces of winter touched were to be found. Roses still bloomed, leaves were green as ever, flowers of all types released their lovely fragrances into the air. Must be some sort of barrier spell, Ophelia told herself as she walked around the garden. Or a controlled weather spell was put over this area.
A beautiful yellow peony caught the witch's eye; without any hesitation she plucked out and gently caressed its petals. The drunk half-blooded witch brought the soft flower up to her cheek and hummed in an off tone key of 'Cheek to Cheek' by Fred Astaire. Her body began to sway to the rhythm of her humming
"You could dance inside." A voice huffed out loud. "You look like a damn fool out here by yourself, dancing with a flower."
Immediately, Ophelia dropped the yellow peony at the sound of the familiar voice. She smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on her dress and cleared her throat. A mixture of shock and self-loathing hit her as she wanted to excuse herself from his company.
No one had told her that Tom Riddle would be attending this event. Ophelia looked up at Tom, her eyes drinking the image of him. Tom was so handsome, so posed, and yet the memory of how cruel he could be was a stark contrast to his looks.
Ophelia didn't say anything to the heir of Slytherin, she brushed his comment off as best as she could. The brunette walked by the Slytherin, her body tense, she knew what he'd do next.
Tom reached out and grabbed Ophelia's wrist, he was gentle about. For the first time, his touch felt warm.
"I'll go back inside." Ophelia didn't pull away. "The view is nice out here, you can enjoy it on your own." Her drunk and happy mood was officially ruined but she offered her best fake smile to the Slytherin prefect. "This life style really does suit you, Tom. Mingling with others that have high standing in pure-blood society." Now she was trying to make small talk in hopes that Tom would get tired of her ramblings and let her go. "Margo's dad works for Gringotts, own some percentage of the bank. A lot of high standing members of the Ministry of Magic are out and about, ask Peter or William to introduce you to-."
"Stop." Tom's voice was steady yet cold. "Ophelia, you know I hate meaningless chatter."
Ophelia placed her free hand over Tom's shoulder. "You should let me leave you now."
"No." Tom narrowed his eyes at Ophelia and adjusted his hold on her. "You should let me have a dance with you." He placed both his hands along the brunette's waist. "You'll leave when I say you can."
Ophelia tried to relax as she brought her hands around Tom's shoulders. She leaned the side of her head against his chest, not looking at the handsome Slytherin relaxed her slightly.
"I almost missed you." Tom had little to no emotion in his voice. He said it with the same tone as someone would when announcing a mandatory meeting: flat. "I get more quiet and time to focus without you being a bloody distraction."
Ophelia didn't say anything, she only let herself follow Tom's pace as they dance in the garden.
"Well," Tom's tone wasn't as monotone as before. A little emotion allowed itself into his voice. "Aren't you going to say something?"
Ophelia shook her head while pressed against his chest, messing her hair up slightly.
The heir of Slytherin pulled away from the former Hogwarts student. His brown eyes showed a slight hint of red to them. Tom wanted tighten the hold he had on Ophelia's waist until she bruised; he wanted to scream at her; shake her body and rough her around until he got a reaction out of her but he couldn't bring himself to at the moment.
In an odd twisted way, Tom figured Ophelia throwing a spell that rendered him unconscious was an act of loyalty. Ophelia threw her shot at a valuable education so Edmund wouldn't be cursed beyond recognition and so Tom wouldn't be founded out for the dark wizard he was. Deep down, Tom Marvolo Riddle knew damn well that not even his most loyal of pureblood followers would do such a thing for him.
An idea popped up in Tom's head and easily flowed out of his mouth. "I am going to talk to Dippet. I'll persuade him to let you be expelled for the remainder of sixth year, but seventh year you'll be back." There was a genuine sense of sincerity as he spoke. "Ophelia, I can make it happen. Dippet is-."
"No." Ophelia finally spoke, she pulled away from Tom. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts." She didn't want to tell Tom about what her grandfather had planned for her in terms of education. Ophelia was going to do something new and different, something possibly better for her.
She was not going to let Tom Riddle degrade her choices; or at the very least keep it at a minimal scale for the night.
"Excuse me?" Tom let Ophelia slip from his hold, he wasn't sure he heard right, "What did you say?"
"I'm not going back to Hogwarts, Tom." Ophelia's voice was steady and calm, but her heart was a mess and the alcohol she consumed was starting to make her stomach sick. "I refuse to go back."
A dangerous aura surrounded the heir of Slytherin. So I did hear right then. Ophelia was not going to return to the one place Tom always thought was home and he was not happy about that. "So you'll throw away magic!? Ophelia, do not be a fool! I am giving you a chance, an opportunity to have it all back! Have us ba-."
Tom froze in the middle of the sentence….Maybe a small part of him wanted Ophelia more than peace, quiet, and focus for the rest of his time in Hogwarts.
The most practiced and insincere smile painfully made its way to Ophelia's face. "Tom...never once did you make anything 'us' it was always about you. I am also still a witch, magic is still in me-I couldn't throw it away even if I wanted to." She stepped close enough to Tom, took both of her slender hands in hers and kissed both of his hands on the knuckles. "You've found your place in the world, Tom, and I am sure the path you're taking has no room for me."
She's right...Tom thought angrily, as he ripped his hands out of Ophelia's grip. "I once had hopes for you Ophelia-darling." He said the last word with a hateful emphasis. "But I see you're so fixated on being nothing but a typical waste of a half-blood witch."
"You can write to me if wish." There was an obvious disconnect between Ophelia's voice and emotions. Ophelia's hollow smile was starting to hurt her face; her voice laced with a dishonest cheerfulness. The only thing true to Ophelia's emotions at this moment where the steady tears that slowly escaped from those pale and green eyes of hers.
"You're not fucking serious." Tom practically growled at the witch who stood before him.
Ophelia wiped her tears but more still came."I wish we could have gotten along better." She still didn't let her obvious melancholy show through her voice. "Tom, we could have been the best of friends if you at least tried with the same decency that I did."
Within a split second, Tom's hand wrapped around her neck, gently yet unyielding. His lips brushed against hers but not to the extent where it would have even been considered a kiss. The heir of Slytherin took in a deep breath, anger bubbled through him and he tightened his hold on Ophelia's neck. Tom practically head butted Ophelia when he pressed his forehead against hers. "I would never be friends with the likes of you."
Tom released his hold on Ophelia and for the first time, his face contorted with so much enmity towards her, he looked ugly. He left her, not one word left his mouth as he stormed away from her.
Ophelia stayed outside in the gardens awhile longer after that. At least until she was sure her tears had stopped and until she was sure she could pretend to be fine for a small while longer.
This time, it wouldn't be for Margo's sake or anyone else's sake but her damn own sanity and sense of self. She even made a small game plan as to how to seem okay during the party.
Go in, go to bar, drink, find William, then dance. Go back to bar, drink some more, dance with Margo, drink, then dance with Peter. Stay at bar for rest of the night...Get some food in my system somewhere in there.
"Could I have some more, pretty please?" William asked with a confused look at the empty champagne bottle as if it would refill itself. He sat on the edge of a king sized bed, genuinely hurt that the bottle still remained empty after he asked. "Oh, you skank." Was all he said to the bottle as he cradled it.
Peter laid on the bed, his body fully relaxed after such a busy night. "I used to think skank was the female term for skunk." He kicked william in the behind. "Get off for a quick second, I want to sleep under the covers."
Margo was lying, face down on white, plush style carpet that covered the whole floor area of the guest room. "I want the room to stop spinning." The blonde witch gripped her hair and tugged at it. "I also want fish and chips right about now."
Ophelia laid comfortably on a light blue chaise lounge; her eyes were glazed over with fatigued. The room was spinning to her as well but she didn't mind it too much. She closed her eyes to world and took in a deep breath. Sleep didn't fall on Ophelia quickly.
Her mind replayed her interactions with Tom on repeat, forwards, backwards, and in different segments. The image of Tom's ugly face started to burn into her memory as if it could have been tattooed into her brain.
Fuck him, Ophelia through angrily as she felt hot tears burn into her skin. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! Fuck him to hell and back!
Peter, William, and Margo were all too drunk to notice that Ophelia cried herself to sleep that night. For that, Ophelia was extremely grateful.