i am lord voldemort • Tom Riddle

V

Confusion.

It seemed to followed Tom everywhere, stemming from the moment people returned from holiday to watch him drag Ophelia over to the Slytherin table. It wasn't an easy decision, deciding to bring her over, but he needed to gain her trust and he couldn't do that if she was never around. The only question was if he'd go to Gryffindor or if she'd come to Slytherin, which wasn't much of a question at all. There was no way he would abandon the noble house of his ancestor to go fraternise with those reckless fools over in Gryffindor.

"You're not sitting with them," he said, taking Ophelia by the upper arm and steering her away from the rest of her House.

"Umm, actually, yes,  I am. In case you haven't noticed, I am, in fact, a Gryffindor."

Tom fought the sudden, strange urge to roll his eyes. Ever since she'd agreed to join him, she'd been on a constant crusade to discern just how thin his patience could be stretched.

"Obviously. I'm not blind," Tom said. "But you'll be sitting with mine for now on."

"I don't think the professors will approve," she replied, looking apprehensively over his shoulder at all the Slytherins sliding into their bench's.

"Professor Slughorn will probably be delighted," he pointed out, wry.

She couldn't argue with that. "He's not really the one I'm worried about."

"If anyone questions it, you can say we're just strengthening inter-house ties."

"That's the greatest load of nonsense I've ever heard," she muttered underneath her breath, allowing Tom to steal her away nonetheless.

When they finally found seats across from Rabastan and Avery, Fenella asked sweetly, "Tom? What's this?"

Tom fixed Ophelia with a contemplative look that neither Fenella nor Ophelia particularly liked one bit. "This is our new... friend. Ophelia."

Fenella pierced Ophelia with a glare so dark it was like she thought "friend" was suddenly a synonym for "psychotic child murderer."

Ignoring her, Ophelia waved a hand lamely and said, "Er... hello there."

Rabastan leaned forward, all business. "So, Ophelia was it? Care to settle a bet?"

With obvious hesitance, she said, "If I have to?"

"That's what I like to hear." He flashed her one of the signature charming grins Tom had seen him give plenty of women before, to varying degrees of success. "Tell me, are you a mudblood or a half blood?"

"Oh, that." Ophelia sighed with relief. "I'm neither."

"How can you be neither?" Fenella scoffed, at the same time Avery doubtfully asked, "Are you a pureblood?"

"Do tell," Rabastan drawled. "Did you hatch from an egg?"

Tom tried not to look too interested in her response.

"You caught me. That's exactly what happened."

"That's not a real answer," Nott interjected.

Tom privately agreed.

"If you don't explain, I'll just assume you're a mudblood," Fenella warned, not sounding particularly upset over the fact.

Ophelia shrugged, ducking her head. "Be my guest."

"Looks like Fen has at last met her match," Rabastan noted with amusement. "How about you just tell me and leave everyone else in suspense?"

"How about you tell me more about this bet," she countered.