Neither brought up the Chamber again. They moved on. Pretended it didn't exist. Tom even overheard her dissuading Ephiriam of the whole matter, scoffing at the very idea of a secret lair built deep within the castle.
"Do you think Salazar Slytherin was some sort of super villain?" she laughed, nudging him as they pulled out their stools to sit in Potions, waiting for Slughorn to arrive.
"No," he defended, a hint embarrassed. "I merely thought he had a flair for drama. Really, if he did build a 'Chamber of Secrets' I think he's an inspiration to all of us. May we all be so unnecessarily dramatic. Augusta, back me up here."
Augusta looked grudgingly up from setting up her cauldron, slowly roving her eyes over the two of them. "You are both idiots."
"I resent being lumped together with you," Ophelia muttered in hushed undertones to Ephiriam. "You're the one who thought it was real."
"Settle down, class," Slughorn boomed, striding into the room. "We have much to get out of the way before we begin. Now, I'm sure you all are up to your heads busy preparing for your O.W.L.'s next week."
"Not bloody likely," Rabastan yawned from Tom's left.
"So I'll be keeping today light," Slughorn continued. "Any questions about the exam can be directed to me after class. If there isn't anything els- Oh, yes, Mister Thompson?"
A freckled Gryffindor boy lowered his waving hand and cleared his throat. "Is there any news on Luca?"
Like meerkats rising as one from their burrows, heads across the room lifted together in united interest at the mention of the attacked Ravenclaw.
Slughorn shuffled random items across his desk, though he seemed hardy aware he was doing it. "Nasty business, that. Nasty business... At present, I can't say much while the investigation is underway, but I can assure you that every precaution is being taken to prevent further incidents and bring about Luca's recovery."
"Do they know what did it?" another asked.
"Not yet, but Dumbledore will get to the bottom of it soon enough, just you wait."
From the far side of the room, someone made a cough that sounded suspiciously like, "Slytherin's monster."
Slughorn acted like he'd temporarily suffered a loss of hearing and didn't comment.
"Is it true he's being moved to St. Mungo's?"
"Professor Dumbledore and our wonderful school nurse are experimenting with various means of reviving the boy, but yes, his parents have requested a transfer if no solution becomes apparent."
"What about the rumour they going to close the school?"
Slughorn laughed off the concern. "Hogwarts is still the safest place in the country. I highly doubt it will close, unless the attacks continue, of course."
That "unless" seemed to hang heavy in the air.
"Now," Slughorn clapped his hands together, "let's get started, shall we?"
It hadn't occurred to Ophelia that Hogwarts could actually close, but of course it could, if it seemed lives were at risk. It was comforting to know, even if the cause of the attacks was far more frightening than any of the most outlandish theories out there, that it was over. Tom gave his word that he could control the Basilisk and she believed him, or at least wanted to. That whole mess was behind them, even if no one else knew it.
The screeching of the bench being pulled back alerted her to a newcomer, and then another. She glanced up pleadingly in Slughorn's direction, for three to a single bench was beyond regulation, but he had pulled Tom into a conversation and was blissfully unaware of the infraction. Only when a third leaned against the her table in front of her, hands flat and head sticking out just above the cauldron.
"Can I help you?" Ophelia asked, glancing curiously between them.
They shot each other meaningful looks that seemed to hold entire conversations worth of unspoken understanding. Ophelia resisted the urge to add, Well, get on with it, because it wouldn't have suited her image. Finally, the one in front swept her eyes furtively across the room, before leaning dangerously over the cauldron.
"We've been meaning to ask for awhile now, but they," a nod at her friends, "have been too intimidated to say anything."
"Don't act like you weren't, too, Mary," the red-head directly beside Ophelia inputted, obviously irked at being called out.
"Whatever." Mary shrugged, unabashed. "Anyway, a lot of rumours have been going around about you."
Ophelia stiffened. "Is that so?"
"Oh yes. Are they true?"
"I wouldn't know, would I? I had no idea people were even talking about me."
"Not just you," the red-head added. "They're talking about you and, well," she dropped her voice to a near whisper, "you-know-who."
"I really don't," Ophelia said, despite the sinking feeling in her stomach.
"You know," she urged, "him. What's the story?"
Subconsciously, Ophelia's eyes began darting between the girls, Slughorn, and the exit. How'd they find out? She'd only dyed her roots a little over a week ago, so they couldn't have drawn any conclusions based on her hair, but she was never cautious enough about averting her gaze.
Grindelwald wouldn't have told anyone, because, despite his faults, he genuinely cared. He wouldn't risk vigilantes coming after her as revenge against him, nor did it serve his purposes to give the Ministry leverage.
The only two others in the world who knew were Tom and Dumbledore, and the mere notion that Dumbledore sold her out was unthinkable. Which only left-
"Tom," the third exclaimed when Ophelia had been silent for too long, drawing several pairs of eyes their way. "You cannot seriously be this daft. We are talking about you and Tom."
Ophelia was so surprised she didn't have time to take offense. "I beg your pardon?"
"What's going on with you and Tom!" they demanded in unison, not even a question anymore.
"I- nothing. We're just friends."
Her shocked laughter served only to encourage them further.
"But he always asks you to sit with him during meals, despite being in different Houses," the girl leaning dangerously into Ophelia's cauldron fumes pointed out eagerly.
"Asks," was not the word Ophelia would have used. "Blackmails," maybe. "Coerces," yes. "Orders," definitely. But she got a feeling they wouldn't believe her if she corrected them, so she merely said, "So?"
They seemed to be growing frustrated. "So he doesn't do that with anyone else."
"And I've heard he's defended you from bullying."
"Twice."
"It wasn't bullying," Ophelia defended. "They were just... disagreements."
Even though she knew they were the ones out of line, her excuses sounded weak, even to her own ears.
"Plus, he ordered everyone to not get payback," the ginger witch included. "Even Fenella when you knocked her lights out in the middle of breakfast."
That one she did feel a bit bad about, although the extent of Tom's involvement in all three of those debacles exceeded what she'd expected by far.
"I don't know what to tell you," she said dismissively. "There's honestly nothing going on."
"Really?"
"Really."
The red-head seemed a bit put out by the news, but she was the only one. The other two couldn't mask their triumphant grins, just diabolical enough to make Ophelia wonder if she shouldn't have lied to save Tom a load of future trouble.
Then again, maybe he enjoyed the attention.
"Alright, you four, back to work," Slughorn intervened, finally turning away from his conversation, and the slinked away to their respective cauldrons.
III
An hour later, as they all packed away their things, she found herself in another sticky situation.
"I expect you'll be coming to my little get together later tonight?" Slughorn asked, winking jovially at Tom. "And Ophelia, as well?"
Tom smiled ingratiatingly. "Of course, sir. I wouldn't miss it for the world. We'll both see you there."
Over Slughorn's shoulder, Ophelia shot him an indignant look, mouthing, We? What do you mean we?
Slughorn clapped his hands together once in satisfaction. "Wonderful! The more the merrier. Can I finally tempt you, Longbottom? I'm determined I'll get you one of these days."
Ephiriam slung his bag over his shoulder. "I'd love to, Professor, but-"
"Splendid, splendid!"
Ephiriam looked inclined to elaborate on his polite refusal, but just as he opened his mouth to do so Ophelia snaked an arm through his, saying, "You heard him, sir. He'd love to come."
The smile she fixed Ephiriam with was anything but kind. If I must suffer, so must you, it seemed to say.
Tom extricated himself, dodging past his usual shadows, before he could see how the exchanges ended and before he could tear the two away from each other. Arrangements needed to be made before getting together with Slughorn that evening, after all, and his irritation had nothing to do with that conversation he'd overheard while Slughorn tried to regale him with tales of his youth. Not at all.
III
Ophelia was already in Slughorn's office when Tom and the rest of his friends arrived. Longbottom was nowhere to be seen.
She turned to him, smiling as he sat down. Between gritted teeth, smile unfaltering, she hissed so only he could hear, "This is torture."
"Don't be dramatic," he whispered back.
"A real friend would have offered me an easy out."
"Maybe I don't want to be friends then," he said, not entirely what it was he was implying.
She didn't either. "Well, it's too late for that, isn't it? You're stuck with me now, and me with you." Sighing tragically, she continued, "Oh, the horror."
Tom softened, slightly. "Excuse me while I greet our host."
"What is that?" She pointed to the box in his hands.
"Not for you," he said simply, striding away to the professor.
"Tom!" Slughorn winked. "I see you've brought our favorite little Gryffindor."
"She was just telling me how delighted she was to be here," Tom lied, her "torture" comment fresh in his mind.
"We all knew she would! Once they start coming, they can never resist another taste! Oh," he looked at the package Tom carried, his eyes glinting, "is that for me?"
Tom nodded. "I heard they are your favorite."
He backed away to give Slughorn time to ruminate over his gift, and wiled away the hours showering the man's ego with subtle compliments to almost comical proportions. A few times, when he'd laid it on a little too thick, Ophelia shot him disbelieving looks out of the corner of his eye, as though questioning his sanity.
"Sir, is it true that professor Merrythought is retiring?" he asked.
"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn wagging his finger reprovingly at him, though winking at the same time. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."
Tom smiled, while the boy's behind him just laughed. Ophelia narrowed her eyes.
"What with your uncanny ability to new things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter— thank you for the pineapple by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite— I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts in the ministry."
"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," Tom said, trying to keep complete abhorrence from his tone. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."
"Nonsense," said Slughorn briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom. I've never been wrong about a student yet."
The small golden clock standing up on his desk chimed 11 o'clock behind him and he looked around.
"Good gracious, is it that time already? You better get going, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."
Ophelia waited, as the others trailed out, but in a split second decision he told her to go ahead without him. He had a feeling he would have better luck broaching the next conversation if there were no witnesses.
Slughorn seemed surprised to find him still standing there when he turned around.
"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you're a prefect..."
"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."
"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..."
"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes."
A/N
Okay. No need to tell me I goofed. Believe me, I KNOW. Lowkey kicking myself for forgetting that Tom already had the ring by the time he talked to Slughorn about horcruxes. Whoops. My bad. If I ever go back to thoroughly edit this work(probably not) I'll need to make that alteration to the plot line