Ophelia hadn't exactly been lying, but she could tell Dumbledore knew she hadn't exactly been forthcoming with the whole truth, either. Worse- he
knew she knew that he knew, and that knowledge pressed down on her like an invisible weight, like gravity had been ramped up a thousand fold. Even so, he didn't press the subject as they walked the length back to Gryffindor Tower.
"About Warren..."
Dumbledore peered down sideways at her in interest. She was by no means short, but the headmaster towered at least a head and a half taller, making her feel like a misbehaving child in his presence.
Ophelia cleared her throat and began again. "About Myrtle... What are you going to do?"
Dumbledore seemed to ponder this. "I imagine a word with her Head of House is in order. Have you an idea what grieves poor Miss Warren?"
Ophelia hesitated only a beat before answering, "I've heard rumors that she's bullied. Being muggleborn, she's had a- difficult time adjusting, and some people don't make it easier."
The professor nodded, as if this didn't surprise him.
"She probably doesn't go to the professors out of fear that it will only make it worse," Ophelia said, not entirely sure what she was tryin to imply.
"Maybe," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "what she really needs is a friend. Ah, we're here."
Ophelia looked up at the scowling Fat Lady, who no doubt resented being awoken at this hour. "Rachis."
The portrait swung wide, however, Dumbledore held her arm to prevent her clambering on through. "About your punishment..." Her heart fell. "You are prohibited from tomorrow's Hogsmeade trip."
Ophelia blinked, then had to fight the urge to burst out laughing. "You are too cruel, sir."
"I have my moments," he agreed, eyes twinkling, before urning around to brook conversation with the portrait of the suspicious sage.
They both knew there had been no way she was going to leave the castle anyway. Not now, nor ever.
III
"What do you mean you're not going to Hogsmeade with us?" Rabastan asked, annoyed. "You weaseled your way out the last two trips, too."
"I did not. I already had plans, but now I can't go because I got caught sneaking around after hours."
"Oh?" He perked up, lowering his goblet from his lips and wiggling eyebrows suggestively. "What were you up to, if I might ask? Was a boy involved?"
She sent him a flat look. "Yes."
Tom stiffened beside her.
"My dear, sweet Ophelia, out during the witching hour with a boy?" Rabastan clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "I'm so very disappointed."
"I'm not 'your' sweet anything," Ophelia pointed out with an exaggerated rolling of the eyes.
He stared, a minute frown pulling at the corners of his lips, before seeming to remember himself and replacing it with his signature lascivious grin. "Was he anyone I know? Do I need to teach him a little due decorum?"
"Rabastan," Tom sighed. "I find it hard to believe you've never been out of the dormitory after curfew."
"Not with a boy, no."
Tom didn't seem amused.
Rabastan raised his hands in defeat, indicating he was backing off. "If I'm the only one concerned with my dear friend's virtue, then so be it.
Fenella snorted derisively at the same time Avery muttered, "You've never cared about a woman's virtue in your life."
"It will be no difficult feat to sneak you into Hogsmeade with us," Tom said, sparing her little more than a distracted glance. "You're coming."
"Do I not get a say in this?" Ophelia huffed. "I'm the one who'll get detention if I'm caught, after all."
"I'll consider giving you a say if you agree with me."
"You're a right dictator, Tom."
The shadow of an amused smile flickered across his face at that. "How you flatter me."
Fenella leaned forward, brushing Rabastan out of her way with a casual elbow to the ribs. "We really shouldn't force her if she doesn't want to come, Tom."
Ophelia privately agreed and was, for the first time, grateful for her contribution to a discussion, although Tom silenced her with a sharp look.
"The matter is settled," he said.
III
The matter was most certainly not settled, Ophelia thought to herself, as she abandoned her Slytherin friends- could she even consider them as such?- and crept off to the library while they were distracted by the sea of students flowing out the school gates. They probably wouldn't even realize one of their ranks was missing until they were halfway through a round at Rosamerta's.
Ophelia chuckled at the thought of Tom's stony expression when he finally realized she pulled a fast one. The audacity of him, thinking he could tell her what to do...
"Is something funny?"
Her heart stopped. No way. Her luck couldn't be that bad, could it?
Her grin slipped into a grimace as she slowly turned around to discover the devil himself, wearing the same stony expression she'd envisioned with such relish only a moment before. It had seemed so much more endearing when she imagined a couple miles of distance between them.
"Hey, Tom. Er, why aren't you in Hogsmeade?" she asked meekly.
"Because I saw that little stunt you pulled coming from a mile away, probably before you'd even thought of it."
"What gave me away?" It's not like you can probe my mind, she stopped herself from adding.
"Why? So you can catalogue the information to become a better liar in the future?" His tone remained serious, but something light danced in his dark eyes. When it became clear she wasn't about to beg for the information, he shrugged. "You submitted too quickly."
She narrowed her eyes, a suspicion dawning. "You're saying you knew I was lying because I was too... agreeable?"
"I didn't say that."
"But that's what you meant. You think I'm disagreeable."
He opened his mouth to speak, only for his words to be cut off by a shout from down the corridor.
"I've been looking for you! I'd heard you got banned from Hogsmeade this go around, so you get the coveted job of tutoring me in Potions!" Ephiriam Longbottom strode up to them, wedging himself between her and Tom, and beamed with delight. "Looks like you're free, too, so you both get the honour of saving my Potions O.W.L."
Tom merely frowned when Ephiriam snaked an arm through his own to guide him down the hall. Although she didn't fight his pull herself, Ophelia could hardly believe Ephiriam's audacity at treating Tom so casually, and neither, it seemed could Tom. He sent her one last nonplussed look before, like a shutter across his face, he replaced the frown with an endearing smile.
"I'm not sure how much help I'll be, but I'll try my best," he said with such false humility Ophelia couldn't help but roll her eyes.
He certainly was never that polite to her.
In the library, it became evident that Ephiriam had reason to be worried about his Potion's O.W.L.
"My mum said that if I didn't get O's in all my exams she'll rip off my arms and beat me over the head with them," he informed them matter-of-factly, turning a page in the Advance Potions Making text. "And I wouldn't put it past her, either. She's a Healer. She could do it and then reattach them after so no one would be any the wiser."
"She sounds like a formidable woman, if not entirely suited to the healing profession," Tom noted, his charisma still dialed up to a blinding extent.
"Couldn't you have just asked Slughorn?" Ophelia complained. Spending Saturday stuffed in the library, laboring over a textbook was not by any means ideal.
"Not really." He licked his middle and forefingers to turn another page. "I have it on good authority that he's gone to the Three Broomsticks for a pint. Even if he got back to the castle early, I doubt he'll be in any state to teach."
Out of the corner of her eye, Ophelia noticed Tom's expression turn contemplative, hardly more than the slight pinch under his eyes, a wrinkling at the bridge of his nose, but still definitely there. If she had to guess, she'd say he was cataloguing the information away.
Ephiriam did not make a willing student, considering his enthusiasm when he'd abducted Tom and Ophelia before. He barely lasted an hour, when his brother came in, asking if they'd seen Augusta. Ephiriam seemed more than grateful to excuse himself, his mother's threats on his life entirely forgotten. As it turned out, they needn't have left to search at all, since the girl in question appeared not five minutes later.
"Ophelia?" She spun around to discover who'd spoken. Augusta scrutinized her, her hair pulled back in a ponytail so tight that looked almost painful. "A word?"
"Of course," Ophelia said, puzzled. Without a second glance at Tom, who watched the two with concealed interest, she rose fluidly from the table and walked a safe distance away, just in case Tom had any illusions about waves dropping.
Immersed between the bookcases in the Magical Catastrophes section of the Library, where Tom wouldn't have the opportunity to read lips or any other contrived way of putting his nose where it didn't belong, she inquired, "Is something the matter?"
Augusta blinked back apparent disorientation and then focused back on Ophelia. "I was told to give you a message."
"Alright..." Ophelia said slowly. "Let's have it."
"'I found it.'"
"Found what?"
Augusta cocked her head. "What did you say?"
"Found what?" she repeated.
"What are you talking about?"
"You just said someone in Hogsmeade told you to tell me they found something," Ophelia reminded her, puzzlement making her flustered. "What did they find?"
Augusta shot her a look like she thought she'd gone mad. "I never said that. In fact," she looked around at the books towering around them, "Why am I even wasting my time here? I should be in Hogsmeade."
Shaking her dark blonde head in irritation, she briskly pushed past Ophelia, out of the aisle and out of the library.
"Well, isn't that peculiar," Tom observed.
Ophelia looked up, expecting him to be standing at the foot of the C row. He wasn't. Peaking around the corner into the next aisle over, she found him leaning casually against the bookcase, hands tucked into the pockets of his robes, approximately parallel to where she and Augusta had stood.
"You and I really need to have a discussion about boundaries," Ophelia said wryly.
Scarcely looking at her, he pushed away from the shelf and drew closer until they were nearly chest to chest. She fought against the urge to buy back distance between them, knowing he was only toying with her for her "space" comment.
"Then speak." He leaned in closer, waiting. He was close enough for Ophelia to discover his eyes were not wholly black, as she first thought, but rather painted with deep flecks of amber that seemed to burn like fire under the reflective lantern light. Too late, she realized that if she could make out so much detail, no doubt he could do the same for her far more easily. Finally, he pulled away, smug. "That's what I thought."
"You still shouldn't eavesdrop. It's rude."
"And yet I still know more than you do," he mused.
"I doubt it. You're just saying that to be pompous."
"You'd know as much as I were you slightly less... noble."
"You say that like it's a bad thing. Nobility is good."
He shrugged smoothly. "So they claim, but there's a reason they always say the good die young."
"Perhaps if everyone was good, then that wouldn't be the case," she told him pointedly, moving to tidy up their table.
"I wish you the best of luck with that."
"It's cute that you think this has nothing to do with you."
"I can't say I know what you mean," he said, taking the Potions textbook from her hands and moving to place it on its appropriate shelf.
"You have a bit of good in you, too, Tom. I'm going to teach you to utilise it, whether you like it or not."
As he walked back towards her, his gaze turned predatory. "I'd like to see you try to make me do something I'd rather not."
"It won't be very hard," she declared matter of factly, turning on her heel and marching out the library. Moments later, he surprised her by catching up. "You didn't have to tell Hagrid how to sneak into the kitchens, nor did you need to stop Fenella from hurting me."
"I'll have you know motivation was less than pure."
Laughing, she said, "Trust me, I know, but for now I'll take it."
Tom turned pensive. Never a good sign. "Very well."
Ophelia was forced to look at him to make sure she heard correctly. "Really? That easily?"
"You won't win, of course. If you are going to try and change me, it's only fair that I get to change you first. I'll teach you the benefits of ambition. I'll teach you that you'll get far further by throwing out your self-righteous rules and doing whatever needs to be done, for the ends always justify the means. And for your first lesson, I'll share a secret you would have never learned without using your Legilimency, something your virtuous standards seem to frown upon." He smiled, although without particular warmth. "Augusta Crouch was Imperiused."
A/N:
Okay. First of all: Augusta Crouch. I looked and looked for her actual maiden name with no luck, so I looked at the sacred twenty eight pureblood families, most of which are Slytherin. I can't imagine she came from Slytherin. That left Ollivander, Abbott, Weasley, Macmillan, ollivander, Fawley, shacklebolt, Crouch and Prewett. Considering neville had to recycle his dad's wand, I disqualified ollivander. Neville married an Abbott, so no there too. Weasley, shacklebolt, and prewett also seemed unlikely, as it likely would have come up somewhere if Neville were related to Ron or in a description. Now we have Fawley, Crouch and Macmillan. Already used fawley. I chose crouch, in the end, because her emotionally stunted, strict, sometimes borderline cruel behaviour seemed to align most with crouch, maybe Barty's cousin or something.