i am lord voldemort • Tom Riddle

IV

"For many months now, my new target has been— you."
—Tom Riddle, The Chamber Of Secrets

• — • — •

Ophelia was temporarily too flabbergasted to say anything, so she simply stared.

"Riddle, I'm not sure how to put this gently, but I'd sincerely rather French kiss a dementor than be your friend."

Too late, it occurred to her that she'd said that aloud.

"Curiously enough, I think that's the first honest thing you've said to me," he said, an indecipherable look on his face.

"Er, I didn't mean it like that," she backtracked, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head in embarrassment. "I may have exaggerated... a bit."

"I'd like to see how else you could mean it," he mused.

Unsure of what else to say, Ophelia busied herself with warming he hands from the cold.

"As I've already laid out the benefits of such an arrangement, please, explain what concerns you."

Ophelia didn't say anything. Nothing she could say would improve the situation, and only stood a chance of making things worse, so she kept silent.

"Would you tell me what I've done to offend, at least?"

"It's not you," she admitted at last, albeit grudgingly. Waving a hand through the air, she continued, "You just remind me of someone I don't like to think about. Besides, I don't really do that whole 'friends' thing."

"Oh?" His eyebrows rose imperceptibly. "Tell me, who do I remind you of?"

Ophelia took a step back and, just to give herself something to do that included not looking at Tom, began petting the thestrals again. She wished Rubeus would get back already.

"It doesn't matter," she replied evasively. "You're not him. I know that."

And she did, even if sometimes it was hard to remember. Just looking at Tom gave her the same powerful, all consuming feeling that Ophelia got from being around her uncle. The feeling was indescribable, like looking out over a thunderstorm from a mountain top. Like knowing she was a part of something big and possibly dangerous, but inspired awe to the darkest depths of her soul, enough to prevent her from looking away entirely.

"Obviously. I don't work this hard just to be someone else," Tom said.

That made the beginning of a smile touch her lips. "Why do you work so hard, then? Obviously you're ambitious, but what for?"

The question seemed to surprise him, eliciting a guarded look, one of caution and thinly veiled distrust.

"Why bother acting like I'm less than I am?" he countered. "If I can be the best, then I will be, in class and in the future. The whole world will know me."

Ophelia didn't doubt him.

She knew she saw a darkness in him, but, then again, there was darkness in herself, too, and everyone else she knew. What made him different was that the strings of destiny pulled harder on him than they did on others. Just like her uncle. Tom had such a potential for good, like Dumbledore, or evil, like Grindelwald, he only needed to be guided the right way. Perhaps he was leaning slightly more Dark, but only because the influences surrounding him. He didn't need to stop those guys from harassing her that first day they formally met. If Ophelia could make him sway good, then perhaps it would make up for everything she wasn't able to do in the past. For not even trying to stop her uncle while she could have, and for running away like a cowards. Didn't she owe it to the world?

And if she was completely honest with herself, she sincerely needed a friend.

"Alright, Rid- er, Tom." she emphasized his name, unsure of how she felt about the taste of it on her tongue. "I accept your proposal, for now, on a tentative basis."

The corners of his lips turned up slightly, not quite into a smile, but in a way that showed he was pleased. Already, Ophelia found herself regretting her decision.

"I won't hesitate to drop you if this becomes more annoying than it's worth," she warned. 

His dangerous smile only grew. "To a long... informative friendship."

He held out his hand, and Ophelia hesitated only a beat too long before clasping it. His grip was firm and surprisingly warm compared to the freezing temperature around them. In the same way she hesitated a moment too long before shaking, he held a moment too long before releasing.

The cunning glint in his eyes foretold ulterior motives to their deal, but, then again, she couldn't really judge, since her own motives were less than pure. Although they obviously lacked trust in the other, more meaningful relationships had been built much on less.

After all, Ophelia thought to herself, as the old saying goes, keep your friends close....

"No need to look so worried," Tom added, at last releasing her. "I probably won't hold you to your promise."

"My promise?"

"To french kiss that dementor, naturally." He turned to leave. "I'll definitely be seeing you again soon."

The most jarring part of that exchange, Ophelia decided as she watched him make tracks through the snow back to the castle, was that Tom Riddle made a joke. Or, at least, she hoped it was a joke, and not a thinly veiled threat. Before she could ponder the potentiality of the latter, Hagrid emerged, larger than life, from the massive double doors, carrying his own impressive weight's worth of meat for the thestrals.