Oh, Ophelia | Tom Riddle

Marigold

Malfoy and Lestranges parents payed off the school. The matron begged the headmaster to keep the story to himself. None of the teachers knew. Except for the head of Hufflepuff , the young Miss Sprout. All the others knew was that Malfoy and the older Lestrange had detention for the remainder of the year and Lestrange had been stripped of his seventh year prefect privileges.

The school knew they could now buy a brand new telescope with all the money 'donated'.

Tom Riddle was not pleased with his followers and called an impromptu meeting of his knights. He circled the table they sat at before sitting at the table's head.

"What do you have to say for yourselves? Rendering yourselves useless for the rest of the year." Said Tom, his silky smooth deep voice carrying over the room easily, as his followers nearly shook.

"We were merely doing what you told us to, my lord, we thought she would forget our faces." Said Lestrange with a firm voice. He always had been able to hide his fear better than others.

"Why is Henry Marigold asking questions about the Knights of Walpurgis? Why is the entirety of the Gryffindor quidditch team trying to find us? Which Gryffindor did you torture?" Asked Tom, staring Malfoy down, expecting answers.

"We didn't torture a Gryffindor, we tortured the younger Marigold. She wanted it kept quiet." Said Malfoy, his voice wavering, not helped by how cold the room was. It seemed to get a great deal colder when Tom put together the pieces.

"You tortured Ophelia Marigold?" He questioned, his heart beginning to speed up. They nodded. "You may as well have attacked the minister." He said exasperation creeping through his tone. Guilt nipped at the back of Tom's skull.

"She didn't have her wand on her. We merely did what was requested." Said a Lestrange.

Tom carelessly pointes his wand at him. "Crucio."

Lestrange grunted in pain.

"Same impact when you have a wand, isn't it?" Asked Tom, trying not to allow the image of Ophelia doubled over in pain to cloud his mind. "Marigold is well connected, I wouldn't be surprised if all the other houses are now aligned against us."

"She wanted it kept quiet." Said Lestrange, Malfoy looked as though he would be ill with guilt. "I doubt anyone other than her brother, her cousin, and Halpert. Even know."

"They don't need to know," lord knows he would blindly hurt anyone who even touch Ophelia if she asked him to, "Don't touch Anyone closely affiliated with the Marigolds, if you need to know why, just think about how much closer we are to getting caught because of it."

His knights cleared the room and he walked to the green crackling fireplace as they left. He mentally cursed himself for not noticing something was off about her. But the professors had not been treating her any differently. On patrols though she had been quieter. Ophelia always spoke to him. However the last patrol she had been quiet.

Tom now not only had to face the incoming wrath from Henry Marigold, but the guilt of it all being his fault. Ophelia had been on his mind like a drug. Consuming him at least in part until he had his fix.

It was Monday night and he knew that he had rounds with her, he honestly had no idea if she would even consider talking about it. What would he say?

He left the room of requirement and walked down the stairs and hallways to meet her. He had been thinking a lot about their upcoming defense against the dark arts class a lot. The closest thing to a happy memory he could think of was playing the slap game with her during rounds. It was idiotic. But also true.

He wondered what hers would be. Ophelia surely had too many happy memories to choose from. He rounded a corner and saw her standing there, reading a book where she stood. Her eyebrows knit together in concentration.