Rating changed for this chapter, sorry if anyone's upset!

Evelyn glanced up at the Ravenclaw prefect from her seat in Slytherin, one table over, but Margaret refused to acknowledge her, 'Fine, let her be like that, the brat...' she thought coldly but was interrupted by the chorus of hoots that echoed from the arched ceiling of the Great Hall. Evelyn Westwood regarded the flock of owls with disdain, and borderline indifference, as she had now become used to not getting anything from her parents. Tom Riddle seemed to be the only one in the same boat, as he did not even look up from his copy of The Daily Prophet.

For that reason, Evelyn could not be more surprised to see the large gray owl belonging to Leramye and Victoria Westwood, swoop down over her head. It might have been her imagination, but she could've sworn that the owl was grasping a letter in its sharp claws. Evelyn was squirming in anticipation of what would warrant a letter from them. The great owl circled the Slytherin table and as it flew by Evelyn's head, the letter was ejected right into her bowl of porridge.

"Stupid bird," she mumbled under her breath and dug the sealed envelope from her bowl. Anger forgotten, she ripped through the wax seal to pull out a thick piece of parchment.

Dear Evelyn,

We were most horrified to be contacted by Headmaster Dippet—

Evelyn groaned, she should have known that a friendly letter from her parents was too good to be true, but continued reading to learn of her fate.

—this week. He regretfully—

"—Regretfully, I'm sure that's exactly the word that he used," she commented to herself.

—informed us that you have been getting into trouble as of late. Not only were you interrupting Professor Slughorn's (your own head of House no less!) class during an exam, you deliberately lied to the Headmaster of Hogwarts and led him into the Forbidden Forest (the most dangerous place on the campus) under false pretenses. This insolence will not go unnoticed young lady! Your absurd actions, coupled with the unsatisfactory marks that you have perpetually earned, have put a stain on the name Westwood for the very last time. We are continually embarrassed by your antics and cannot bare the distress you have associated with our status as noble purebloods.—

'Blah, blah, blah,' Evelyn mocked silently, 'Like I give a damn about your social status…'

—We know you have previously regarded it as an empty threat, but we are forthwith disinheriting you.

Goodbye,

Leramye and Victoria Westwood

Evelyn growled at the loathsome individuals that were her ex-parents, "I can't believe this," she shook her head breathily, "they're even sorrier than I thought…what kind of parents…?" She was at such a loss for words she couldn't even finish.

She threw her napkin on the Slytherin table and snatched up the letter in one fist, retreating to the dungeons.

"Phineas Nigellus…Black," she had almost forgotten the last name, which—unsurprisingly—was always a famous Slytherin's. The stone wall parted in the outline of her body as she walked through it. She passed through the common room, much like she passed through life, without much attention.

Evelyn threw herself on her bed, face down, and laid there without moving. The patterns and shapes danced under her eyelids, making her feel slightly disoriented as her eyes tried to follow them. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. Where was she going to go? She didn't have any money…she couldn't stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the summer…but if she got expelled then it wouldn't matter either way. Even if she didn't get expelled, then she still had the problem of money—for without it, she couldn't pay for her books or supplies. For the first time in a long while, tears began to spring behind her tightly closed eyes, but she choked them back in fear of anyone seeing.

"What's wrong doll?" came the sympathetic voice, intruding her thoughts.

Evelyn raised her head to reveal a blotchy visage to Sylvia. She was almost taken aback by her compassionate attitude; she and Sylvia had never quite achieved the level of weaving friendship bracelets for each other or anything.

"Nothing," Evelyn replied, they weren't that close, "some things are just going badly," she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at the knots.

"Oh, come on Evey," Sylvia implored.

Evey? What was this? As far as Evelyn was concerned, she and Sylvia did not have cutesy nicknames for one another. That was one of her and Olive Hornby's exclusive traditions that they didn't dare share with other girls who weren't in their league.

"It's just…" Evelyn quickly realized her mistake of not hiding the letter a moment too late, as it was already snatched up by Sylvia, who obviously had no inclination of what private property was.

Her blue eyes scanned over it and the pouty lips she was so famous for curled into what seemed like a sincere frown, "I'm sorry sweetie, that's horrible that you're parents don't love you anymore."

Sylvia had a natural born talent for consoling.

"It's okay…really." The Westwoods were less than the perfect model for parenting and she considered it no tragedy that hers didn't care for her, for that was something she knew long ago, her galleon-less future was what worried her the most.

"Look," Sylvia grabbed her hand, as if trying to imitate someone she might have witnessed comforting another, "I know exactly what you need…"

"And that would be…?" Evelyn was thinking something along the lines of a future.

"A party!" she smiled a wide, toothy smile.

"Uhm…I don't know…"

"Of course you do! Do you know where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy is?"

"The one that tried to train trolls for a ballet?" He was one of the only people that Evelyn remembered from History of Magic because of his odd contribution to it.

"Uhm…I don't know…sure," Sylvia didn't seem to remember him as well as Evelyn did, "Anyway, meet me in front of it at eleven tonight."

"Er…I don't kn—

"Ok, I'll see you then," she smiled and purposely traipsed out of the dorm room, as if she had just righted the wrongs of the world.

Eleven had come around a little too quick for Evelyn who had spent the afternoon fretting and devising plans to break into her parent's Gringotts vault. Nevertheless, she did not object to Sylvia's party, so she pulled on a pair of robes over her night gown and set out for the tapestry.

She knew she was in the right place when she saw a group of girls, huddled in a circle around the one who had invited her. She camouflaged herself among them, wondering what could be so important on the bare wall that they were all standing in front of.

Sylvia paced back and forth in front of everyone, as if waiting for something; she stopped, and then looked at the wall, "We need a secret place for a party."

"It's the room of requirement," a girl in front of her turned to her friend to explain.

Iron work seemed to slither out from within the cracks of the wall, making intricate swirls on the wall and then two doors took shape, opening outwards to them. Evelyn was amazed that there was such a place in Hogwarts and even more amazed that Sylvia was the one to find it. Margaret would have liked to see this, but she quickly pushed the thoughts of her out of her head as she remembered that they were supposed to be fighting.

The room was mainly an empty expanse with comfortable, plush, couches and chairs scattered around a blazing fire. The only light emitted from the tall hearth at the very center of the room where flames merrily danced off of the thick logs.

"Take a seat girls!" Sylvia squealed in excitement as everyone began to peel away their outer robes and toss them on the floor.

Evelyn assumed that this was the regular establishment of each party, with Sylvia in the middle, directing all the attention, and the other girls following along.

"Look what I nicked from a muggle over the summer," Sylvia smiled proudly, pulling a silver case that resembled a Deluminator, out of the cup of her bra.

It was then, in the light of the room of requirement, that Evelyn realized how scantily clad everyone was for this party. She never thought she would feel over dressed in a night gown. The center of attention herself only wore a uniform oxford shirt like an extremely short dress, her black lacy underwear peeping through the open flaps on each side of her hips. The two top buttons of the normally conservative dress shirt were popped open, allowing Sylvia's bosom—that was usually barely constrained anyway—free to the open air. The other girls in the room were dressed, more or less, the same way.

"It's a cigarette lighter!" she explained, as if it was the most amazing invention of all and pulled out a cigarette out from behind her ear to light it. She took a long drag from the cigarette and the girls all watched in anticipation, some in admiration. Pulling the lipstick-marked roll from her lips, she blew a ring of smoke from her dark red lips, "See! Just like in the muggle cinemas!"

"Ooooo," the other girls clapped and cheered for her amazing accomplishment. Evelyn herself was only mildly amused by Sylvia's feat but clapped and plastered on a smile for the sake of fitting in.

Olive Hornby, Sylvia's best friend and partner in crime, was the loudest of the girls, blood had seeped to the surface of her china-doll skin and her ever bouncing ringlets of blonde seemed to be going full speed as she threw her head back to laugh. It was at this second that Olive sensed Evelyn's eyes and immediately froze, then turned to sneer at her, "What's she doing here?" She crossed her high-heeled feet and glanced at her friend.

Sylvia drew their attention back to her as she waved everyone's laughter away with her hand gesture, "Quiet down girls…I just wanted everyone to know…that I brought Evelyn Westwood with me tonight for some Slytherin girl fun!" To that all the girls hooted in unison with a cheer, but then quieted down for their leader to speak again, "Because her parents have disowned her."

Evelyn sunk deeper into her chair, wishing it to swallow her whole at the embarrassment of Sylvia announcing that to almost every girl in their house. Consequently, Sylvia let out an obvious fake whine of sympathy and led the chorus of "aaaws," from the other girls as if Evelyn were an abandoned kitten.

"So now," she raised her voice in triumph, "we're going to show her how to forget her problems our way!"

Evelyn had to hand it to her, Sylvia had a gift for leading her herd of dumb driven cattle.

"The first thing that needs to be done is the initiation!" the girls cheered again.

"Initiation?" Evelyn choked, afraid of what this might entail.

"Wait a minute!" Olive spoke up, "Shouldn't we take a vote on who we admit to the Slytherin Girls Club? I mean—we do have some standards to uphold," she finished cattily.

"Olly, seriously…there's no need to vote."

"Yes there is," Olive wrinkled her defined nostrils.

"Fine," Sylvia shrugged, bringing the point of her wand to her chin, "Everyone who wants to initiate Evelyn Westwood in, raise your hand."

Evelyn swelled with pride as almost everyone in the room raised their hands, except Olive and her few devoted friends.

"All opposed?"

Olive, who seemed determined to exclude her, raised her hand.

"All right then!" Sylvia exclaimed cheerily, ignoring Olive's groan of protest, "you're in! As I was saying—the initiation," she used her wand to point to Alice Archer, "exhibit A."

Alice beamed because her chest was the particular one that Sylvia chose to display, calling attention to the black bra that was showing generously out of her oxford school shirt "This is the trademark of our group. As you will notice, all of your fellow members are wearing theirs."

It was then that she realized to what extent that the other girls really had excluded her from the other fifth years of her house.

"This very undergarment marks you as a true Slytherin girl—it sets you apart from all the bookish Ravenclaws," all the girls booed at the mention of their rivaled houses, "dowdy Gryffindors, and pious Hufflepuffs."

She waited for the girls to settle down before the initiation commenced, "Bra please," she held out her hand and Alice placed a black, laced bra in it, "this, is for you," she smiled at Evelyn with her chiclet teeth.

"Uhm…thanks," Evelyn replied with contrived appreciation as she had no idea how she was supposed to respond.

"Well…put it on!"

"Right now?" she looked around apprehensively, "here?!"

"Sure, it's okay. We're all girls here."

"I guess…" Evelyn answered unsurely. In the end, she opted for turning her back while she switched out her bras, taking the cotton one and casting it on the floor. The other girls resumed their incessant laughter and chatter as if it were nothing.

"Here girls, pass these around," Sylvia said as she distributed umber colored, glass, bottles to all the girls gathered around the fire.

"This stuff's pretty strong, isn't it?" Evelyn asked regarding the bottle.

"Of course, there's nothing stronger than firewhiskey," it didn't take much perception to realize that Evelyn was uneasy about the beverage of choice, "C'mon Evelyn, might as well have fun when you're young, because you sure as hell won't whenever you're older—you'll be reduced to nothing more than an uncommonly pretty house elf," she puffed up her chest and her voice shot up a few octaves, "Not when you're married off to some young, successful wizard. You have to make sure the manor is kept, food is on the table and that your husband is happy," she laughed, though Evelyn wondered how much of that speech had been given to Sylvia by a real female figure in her own life.

Evelyn imagined herself as an eighty year old witchmaid, sitting by her window, wishing for the days when she could have done something fun and when her skin wasn't hanging four inches from her bones.

"You're right," Evelyn smiled back at her new friend.

"That's my girl," Sylvia smiled back and took a swig of her own firewhiskey.

It didn't take long for Evelyn to realize how much tolerance her small frame had for alcohol. She downed her second bottle of the strong whiskey, it burned down her throat and her stomach gargled in protest. Somewhere between her second and third one, music started up and some girls had started dancing half coherently around the fireplace. She thought they were dancing around her until she realized that was just her head spinning from intoxication.

"'Ere's to—to Crumple Horned Snorkacks," Evelyn smiled, clinking the top her bottle with Sylvia's as she had resorted to talking nonsense.

"The hell…?" she seemed to have forgotten what she was saying, "the 'ell is that?"

"Don' know…in Sweden, they live thur," Evelyn slurred in response, "course."

They both gulped down another shot, "What toast now?" Sylvia spoke as incoherently as Evelyn.

"To…" she held up her bottle, her muddled brain trying to think of something worth toasting to, "Umgubular Slashkilter."

"What…?" Sylvia looked up at her quizzically, even in her smashed state she knew that that didn't make sense, "never mind."

Before Evelyn could explain, the doors burst open and a tall, angular, figure stood in the archway. The girls dropped their bottles to the floor, glass smashed and scattered across the tiles. Evelyn's head spun, the figure rocked back and forth in front of her eyes. Everyone else ran by her, grabbing for their robes, screaming and darting out of the door.

"Evelyn Westwood," the dark voice sneered and the figure approached her. She tried to look out at him from behind a glazed stare as she realized she was all alone.

"Have you come to see the horcruxes?" she half asked, half laughed.

The Slytherin prefect raised his eyebrows at her but chose to ignore her babbling and jerked her up from her sprawled place on the floor.

"Where…going?" she mumbled to the dark headed stranger that was gripping her by the arm, leading her down a dark hallway. It was then that she realized just who was dragging her around in the dead of night.

"Ger off me! Ger away from me!" she slurred angrily, and tried to wrench her arm free, but his grasp only tightened in response.

"No!" Tom annunciated pointedly, "You're coming with me."

"NO!" she screamed, but he completely disregarded her blood-curdling screams as he yanked her roughly around a corner, into another dimly lit corridor.

"Pine fresh," he muttered, to which Evelyn was very confused by.

The door swung open and Evelyn reached for the door frame, holding on for dear life, and determined not to be in a room with him. Tom pried her fingers from it but she threw her entire body weight away from him, almost slipping out of his vice like grip.

"Have it your way," Tom grumbled and grabbed her behind her knee caps, slinging her small frame over his shoulder and sauntered through the door frame, pinkish light caressing their faces from inside the room. Evelyn was in such a state of panic that she completely ignored the foreign room that he had brought her to and before she could get a good look, she was pulled from over his shoulder. Unstable from the alcohol that freshly ran through her veins, Tom easily shoved her backwards, causing her to trip over the edge of a claw-footed bathtub and landed on her back inside of the basin. He ripped open the plastic shower curtain, hooks flying from the rod, and jerked the knob.

Freezing droplets of water saturated her thin nightgown, causing her to cry out in surprise.

"Maybe that'll sober you up," Tom scoffed at her drunken state, staring at the small figure sprawled in the bottom of the bathtub. The shocking torture ended as he shut off the shower head and jerked her up from the bathtub floor.

She stood, in the middle of the bathtub, paralyzed by his stare. The sound of dripping water filled the room as the drops fell from her separated tendrils of soaked hair, rolling down her neck, falling on her chest and tumbling between her breasts until Tom lost sight of them. The gown had forgone it's use, revealing her body to him, clinging to her like transparent, loose skin.

Evelyn's fearful green eyes met his out from under long eyelashes, clumped together by water.

He moved closer with a look of curiosity washed upon his immaculate features, the sound of leather soled oxfords slapping the floor of the cast iron bathtub resounded about the room. The salty scent of Tom mingled with the strong smell of fire whiskey, rolling off of her tongue and into the air. His own breathing hitched slightly, unable to calculate the side effects of standing so closely to her wet body. He peered down at her cowering figure; her face timidly looked up at him, the tips of her front teeth shown out from under her red curled lip, her bated breath caressing the side of his neck. Insuppressible heat concentrated below him and pressed against her cold, winsome body.

Tom wanted to crush her.

Pushing her against the icy tiles, his lips collided roughly against hers, pulsing under the pressure. He released all his anger, his hate for her insolence, and frustrated bewilderment at her power over him.

He both loved and loathed the feeling of submitting to this hormonal weakness.

Tom was delusional if he thought that Evelyn would allow herself to be his play thing, subject to whatever primal whims came upon him. If he was going to forcefully take what he wanted, she was going to make him suffer. Her Slytherin instincts took over and she languidly kissed back, running her tongue along the top of his bottom lip. He pulled her closer to him, his body plastered against hers and she opened the curve of her leg, allowing further access for his growing erection, allowing it to lightly graze against the wet folds of her gown.

This was the very moment she chose to pull away and slipped from between his chest and the wall, gracefully stepping out of the bathtub as if it was nothing.

Tom turned to cast a flustered gaze at her, his gray eyes hooded as they fell upon the wet garment still plastered against her curved frame.

"Getting a little bit ahead of yourself, huh Riddle?" She slinked out of the bathroom without a look back, grinning to herself at the mental image of Tom Riddle standing in the middle of an empty bathtub with an unyielding erection.

Next time he might think twice about trying to punish Evelyn Westwood, she mused.

A/N: Alright, so there it is. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. So, I hope you see now why I decided to change the rating, just for safety reasons, and because I don't want to get yelled at by some unsuspecting reader. Don't forget to review, and I'll see ya'll later!

--Aiden I.