Bookbinding ( Tom Riddle x Myrtle Warren )

Chapter 1: Chocolate Frog

This piece was written for week nine of the Ladies of HP Fest, which was on the theme of Heartthrobs and Heartbreaks. Maybe these two are unusual characters to try and fit into that, but they insisted... You can find some of the inspiration behind the story here and here.

Please do note, though, that this fic contains non-graphic references to sexual activity between Hogwarts students who are between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. This is above the legal age of consent in the United Kingdom, and the descriptions do not go beyond the teen rating, so I have not tagged the piece as underage. If, however, you are uncomfortable with this, please feel free to click off.

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'Then he said to me, "I say, Olive, why don't we go to Hogsmeade together this weekend?".'

'And what did you say?'

'I said yes, of course!'

'God, I am green with envy.'

'Simply too jealous.'

Olive Hornby smiled indulgently at the circle of girls sitting around her, looking up at her with adoring eyes, like elfin courtiers gazing upon a fairy princess. 'Oh, girls, there's no need for all this. It's only Reggie -'

'Only Reggie?!'

'Olive, Reginald Chive is the best looking boy in the whole year and you know it!'

'He's a dreamboat!'

'Absolutely swoony.'

'And terribly rich.'

'If he spoke to me I think I'd die on the spot!'

'He would never even look twice at me. My nose is simply enormous.'

'My hair is too thin.'

'I have fat thighs.'

'I have a horrible big toe.'

'My knee points in a strange direction.'

'I say, so it does.'

'Don't poke it!'

'Be that as it may,' said Olive, above the clamour, with the easy confidence of the very young, and very popular, and very beautiful, 'at least none of you look like Myrtle.'

There was an outbreak of wretching and giggling.

'Eurgh! Too true!'

'I don't look like a wardrobe in my robes.'

'And I don't have a double chin.'

'Or spots!'

'Or an ugly round face!'

'Or an annoying voice!'

'Or no friends!'

'And those glasses are too dreadful,' said Olive, to general assent, looking up, with a grin like a shark, at the girl who had been standing transfixed at the edge of the common room, watching the four people she'd shared a dormitory with since first year tear her apart, apparently not caring to check if she was there. 'Wouldn't you agree, Myrtle?'

                                 ***

If you wish to make a scene at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, crying in the girls' toilets is the way to do it. Every single bog in the castle functions like Piccadilly Circus for gossip - you'll pop in there for a quick sob before Charms because Martine van Duizen spent all of Herbology not telling you your robes were tucked into your knickers, and by the time lunch rolls around the whole school will know the exact decibel your crying reached and what colour your pants were.