Dear Tom,
My brother is driving me insane. He seems to have decided that the only reason I could possibly be happy right now is that I am sneaking you into my room. He keeps showing up at night, fucking one am, I am fast asleep and he yell A-HA, I nearly fell of the bloody bed. Henry just got a muggle car and will not stop talking about it. I really wish you had come to the end of year party, but I get it's not your scene.
Rosie is staying here while her parents are redoing the manor. Apparently the yellow from the last time was not the yellow Mrs. Halpert requested. My parents love her they say it's like they have two daughters. Right now she's trying to convince me to help her teach mum how to square dance. Don't ask.
I miss you like a lot which is something I never really thought I would be able to say about the great Tom Riddle. No offence. I got published! in witches weekly, I submitted a piece on my opinion on equal pay and they went with it. You were the first person I wanted to tell. I hope your summer is alright. I sent cookies with Herbert. What I had to go through to make sure no one else ate them as they cooled. Lets just say they were heavily warded. Also there is a picture of me finding a starfish at the beach. I don't know it was just a good day. I wanted to share it with you.
Love,
Ophelia J. Marigold
Tom must have read the letter about twenty times before Herbert the owl flew away. He was a very affectionate bird. Tom could have sworn when he had extended a wing he wanted Tom to shake it. He wondered if Ophelia had trained him to do so. There was a very real chance that she had.
The cookies smelt delicious he could understand why they would be so heavily guarded. He was happy that she missed him. For a moment he wondered what the J stood for. He mentally bet himself that it was Juliette. Tom glanced at the picture. She looked so happy. She was in a sheer sundress he could clearly see the yellow swim suit underneath. She was sitting cross legged and pointing at a starfish in a small puddle in front of her.
Tom slid the photo and letter into the journal she had given him for Christmas. Only then did he really notice how attached he was to the little Hufflepuff. How Ophelia Marigold had wormed her way into his heart. Wormed was not exactly the right word to use. She sort of slammed the door open.
He still had the golden ribbon, and he had kept the photograph of her in a flower crown. She had never addressed that it was missing. She was just so happy in it, Tom thought he had never seen a smile as wide as hers. She was easy to laughter. Something Tom adored about her.
For a boy who never really had the best of anything as a child, it was nice to have her for a change. She was the reason he could produce a patronus.
He sat on his bed and glanced around the small room. No one wanted to share with the evil Tom Riddle. He almost smiled at that. Since he had killed that damned bunny when he was nine they had all left him alone. While peaceful it was lonely. But this was his final summer at the Orphanage.
He had already completed all his summer assignments. He had already planned a trip to Little Hangleton, getting Mrs. Cole's permission was easy. She was afraid of him after all.
He placed the cookies under a floorboard under his bed. You could never be too careful with thieving little children who hadn't yet learnt their place in the hierarchy of the Orphanage.
He reopened the journal staring at the photograph of Ophelia. She kept running in circles in his mind. Sometimes, at night, when his will power weakened, he would wonder what his life might have been like had he met her when he was a child.
If she had gone to his school. If she had been in the church the Orphanage went to every sunday. If she herself had been in the Orphanage. Of course he wished none of this on her.
Living in London during the second world war was akin to living in hell. Constant bombing drills. Constant fear of a blitz of bombings.
But he still wondered what life might have been like if he'd met her, properly met her sooner. If he had given her a chance to speak to him when they were first years. What might have been a lifelong friendship.
Tom had a photographic memory, which is why he did so well in school. He remembered everything. Right down to a Hufflepuff with honey hair sitting next to him his first charms class. He remembered she was shy then but still sweet. She had introduced herself and smiled. She wanted to be his friend, because he seemed smart.
What might have life been like for him at Hogwarts had he accepted her offer of friendship instead of listening to what his dorm mates had to say about Hufflepuffs. He remembered when his knights had questioned him about the nature of his relationship with Ophelia. How he had to simmer it down to saying that she was just a piece of ass.
But she wasn't just a piece of ass. He greatly enjoyed her ass but that was beside the point.
The point was that he wanted to hold onto power and hold onto Ophelia for as long as he could.
Tom was called down to dinner he brought a book with him, he always did. He hated conversing with anyone else there. He despised the food served in the grim Orphanage. He reminded himself that he had a dessert this time. He looked at the potatoes before him. They were hardly even cooked.
He ate begrudgingly knowing to keep up his strength it was necessary. Billy Stubbs sat to his right, talking about god knows what with the other boys.
Usually it was a conquest. Which Tom found hard to believe thanks to Billy's lack of manners and muggle Londons hatred of premarital sex.
"What about you, Tom?" Asked Billy, turning to face him, Kieran Holloway day across from Billy and now faced Tom.
Tom looked up lazily from his copy of Hamlet. He marked his page with her golden ribbon, and looked at Billy.
"What about me, Billy?" He asked, his voice cold and domineering. Billy's chin trembled for a moment.
Before he spoke up again, "Have you ever scored some tail?"
"What gave you the impression we were friends?" Asked Tom, arching a perfect eyebrow at him.
Billy shook a little bit at Tom's tone.
"Come on, Tom, you're a bloke. It's not impossible that you've done it at that fancy school of yours." Said Kieran, who hadn't seemed to notice the shift in the room.
"Who's ribbon is that?" Asked Billy, and Tom put the book beside him out of Billy's view.
"None of your business." He sneered and suddenly Billy found himself gasping for air. As though an invisible force were choking him.
Tom ate a small amount of his food and left promptly. He prepared himself for bed.
He lay there And thought of her. Ophelia running up to him in the halls and kissing him. He enjoyed the way she held his hand. He enjoyed the trust she had placed in him.
Tom was never even remotely worried that she would stray. Most of the boys in the school knew she was 'Riddles girl.' Going near her would be a death sentence.
He saw red whenever he thought about how she had been attacked because of orders that he had given. He saw red whenever he pictured her with anyone else.
What Tom really wanted to know is if she thought of him the same way. If she touched herself as she thought of him. If she dreamt of him.
Each night Ophelia would come in in dreams. Sometimes it was a memory. Sometimes it was a fantasy. Sometimes it was a prediction of a future they might have.
Tom's least favourite being her death at his fault.
Tom didn't know why he dreamt of the things that he did. He rolled over, trying to silence his thoughts.
Sometimes Ophelia wore a white dress. Elegant. She held a bouquet of Marigolds, and met him at the alter.
Sometimes is was as simple as painting the living room together.
Sometimes it was dancing around their home on Christmas Day, putting off cleaning the dishes together.
He didn't understand the domestic dreams. But whenever he had them a fierce wave of possession would ripple through him. Not uncommon were the dreams of fucking her against any surface really.
The window bench. The prefects bathroom. The room of requirement. His dorm. Her dorm. The curtained off area in Slughorn's office that was created when it was heavily decorated with drapes. The chamber of secrets.
He remembered every detail of their time in the prefects bathroom.
He groaned and allowed sleep to overtake him, wondering which form she would take tonight.
Ophelia stood wearing a golden dress. She looked nervous. She bit her lip and her foot tapped on the ground as he walked into the room.
Tom sat down on the couch, she sat next to him and he pulled her close.
"You're nervous." He observed and she stared into the fire.
"I'm pregnant."
Dream Tom looked at her and her honey eyes turned to him. He kissed her.
Real life Tom on the other hand's eyes sprang wide open. He knew he hadn't anything to worry about in real life. Ophelia had told him that she was on the potion, and he still did a contraceptive charm just in case.
(Don't give me that Look reader, Ophelia is an open and honest person who would also be very careful about her future given that she is a woman in the 1940s. Tom is an Orphan who will barely even be able to support himself when he gets out of Hogwarts for a while. Obviously they had that conversation. They are responsible af.)
This however was another level of dream about a domestic future. Starting a family. A little baby Riddle. Born to a loving mother. Tom frowned. It shouldn't make him content. He was a future dark lord.
He hadn't the time or energy for incessant irritating children.
The thought of Ophelia holding his baby in her arms shouldn't make him more possessive of the witch.
But then realization crashed over him. She probably wanted those things he didn't want to want. She probably wanted someone to grow old with. Someone to have children with. Someone else.
Tom was selfish. He wasn't going to let her go. Not with the way she could make him feel.
He fell again into sleep. This time greeted by less worrisome dreams of the two of them just sitting and talking by a window.
—
"Tom, there is a call for you." Said Mrs Cole as she stood by the communal phone in the living room of the Orphanage.
Tom walked over almost eagerly and she looked surprised. Tom never seemed to actually want something normal. There is no way that there was malicious intent behind this phone call.
She handed him the rotary phone and he stood by it, holding it to his ear.
"Ophelia." He said, could practically hear her smile as she spoke.
"Hello, Tom." She said,
Tom glances around the room and spotted a few of the girls and a few of the boys. He couldn't really talk to Ophelia like this.
"Is it possible for you to floo to London?" He asked, not wanting to talk over the phone.
"I can ask," she said, he heard a scuffle from behind her, "HENRY IF YOU ASK WHOS ON THE PHONE ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR TO HELGA I WILL THROW MY SHOES AT YOU."
Tom has to surpress a smile when he heard her throw a shoe at her brother.
"Better?" He questioned.
"I'm not entirely sure that I'll get my shoe back." Said Ophelia a certain indifference in her voice, "It wasn't a particularly nice pair anyways."
Tom let out a sound of amusement despite himself. He could hear the other children behind him turn to face him.
"Did you like the cookies?" She questioned
"I loved them. I had a question." He started, ignoring the stares of other orphans.
"Shoot." Said Ophelia,
"Did you train your owl to shake people's hands?" He asked, as Billy Stubbs walked into the room.
"Well yes, it was only polite. Plus Herbert is an awfully pretentious name so it only made sense for him to have manners." She said, and he surpressed another smile.
But it didn't go unnoticed. The entire room was now paying attention to the call that the big bad Tom Riddle was making. Supposedly to his girlfriend.
"Why not give him a rude name then." He suggested.
"So he could shit on people as he dropped off letters?" She questioned.
"Precisely." He said, shortly.
"I don't know I think I'll stick with Herbert." She said.
"I'm afraid I can't talk for long, I have some watchers." He said sending glares around the room.
"Are you really that popular?" She asked.
"No. I spend most of my time away from here." He replied.
"Ah, so there is an air of mystery about you." She said as though she had just realized all his secrets.
"You understand." He said as vaguely as possible.
"Are you going to keep giving vague answers no matter what I say?" She asked, her voice laced with mischief.
"Yes." He replied, as several boys approached
"Is it the ribbon girl?" Asked Kieran and Tom shoe him a dangerous look.
"The ribbon girl," began Ophelia, "that's a pretty name. Is he referring to me or should I be jealous?"
"He's referring to you." Replied Tom.
"How did I get that name?" She asked.
"You forgot a ribbon in class and I took to using it as a bookmark." He said honestly. His face completely blank but his insides buzzing with the idea that Ophelia Marigold was on the other side of this line.
"That is very sweet." She said, "who knew Tom Riddle could be so sentimental." Ophelia teased him amusement evident in her tone.
"Is she pretty?" Asked Billy Stubbs, Tom merely rolled his eyes.
"Can't they mind their own business?" Started Ophelia, "You hate intrusive people." She muttered, "are you different there?"
"No. They simply have no boundaries." Said Tom and he heard Ophelia guffaw.
"So you really are going to keep giving generic answers to everything." She repeated, he heard her mutter a silencing charm over herself.
"Yes." He replied.
"I could say anything?"
"Yes."
"And you won't be able to change the subject."
"That would be an accurate assumption." He replied, the onlookers slowly loosing interest.
"I once saw an Alligator on the discovery channel and that shit was scary." She said.
"I'm sure."
"Once I saw a fireworks show and the man accidentally had one up his arse, I'm not sure how but he shot a firework out of his arse. Is that something you aspire to?" She asked.
"Not in the slightest."
"All I can think about is your lips on mine." Said Ophelia her voice void of any humour.
Tom's stance shifted as he tried to contain his pleasure at the words.
"I am likewise afflicted." He said.
"And everywhere else." She muttered, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep a bashful grin from overtaking his features.
"Really?"
"Yes. I miss your kisses on my neck and the way you touch me." She said, he knew she was trying to get a rise out of him but he could still enjoy his girlfriend whispering sweet nothings to him over the phone.
"I face the Same dilemma." Said Tom. And she laughed.
"You really are dedicated, I'll give you that. Would you like me to continue?" She asked, and Tom felt like a school boy breaking the rules and trying not to get caught.
"That would be appreciated."
"I miss talking to you." She said, "I miss your stupidly attractive accent. I want you, Tom."
"How delightful. I reciprocate." He said and she let out another laugh. He loved that she laughed. He never made someone laugh before her.
"Wow, you really are good at this." She said.
"I wish I could say the same for you." He replied and he heard her scoff at the other end.
"What can I say, I'm better in person." She replied.
"I realize that." He said.
"Tom, What is she like, you know," began Billy Stubbs, who could hear that it was a feminine voice on the other end.
Billy would pay later.
"That's a good question, Tom what am I like, you know..." She had to stop making him smile like a lovesick puppy dog in front of his inferiors.
He bit his cheek hard almost drawing blood.
Tom turned further away from Billy so he was now facing a wall.
"Extraordinary." He said.
"You sure do know how to make a girl blush." She said.
Billy and Kieran were watching him still. He felt uncomfortable.
"I'm afraid I have to cut this short."
"I understand, goodbye, love." She said before hanging up the phone.
Tom's lips quirked upwards, 'love' she had called him love in that lovely accent of hers.
He hung up the phone slowly and began to walk to the exit. He reached his room. Lying on his bed and ensuring that his door was locked,
Tom Marvolo Riddle smiled.
—
Dear Tom,
I got permission to visit London on July twentieth. I can't wait to see you.
Love,
Ophelia J. Marigold
Tom looked up at the owl Herbert for a moment as he outstretched his wing. Tom's lips quirked upwards. July twentieth was only two days away.
Herbert gave it up as a lost cause and flew away. Tom was happy she was coming. He didn't care if she saw the Orphanage.
—
Ophelia had never seen a place so grim in a city so big and somewhat destroyed . She walked through the tall gate of Wools Orphanage towards the front door.
If she had seen Tom as someone with tragedy in his past, this was confirmation. She walked through the front door towards a rather old woman who was doing paper work.
"Excuse me, Mrs Cole right?" She said and the woman looked up, her penciled in eyebrows raised.
"Yes." She said tentatively.
"We spoke on the phone briefly, I'm Ophelia Marigold." Said Ophelia, extending a hand to shake hers.
"You wanted to talk to Tom." She said. She shook her hand tentatively. "You're like him aren't you?"
"We go to the same school." Said Ophelia, drawing her hand back, "But no one is quite like Tom."
Mrs Cole looked like she might have a stroke. She looked at the girl in a light blue sundress and a sweater around her waist. She seemed Tom's polar opposite. For a fleeting moment she thought that maybe Tom had really just fallen in love. But she had known him since he was a baby. Tom didn't love anything.
"That is true." Said Mrs Cole, rather intrigued by the Irish girl. She was lovely by all accounts. Sweet looking face. Honey coloured hair. Eyes that seemed less brown than gold.
"What was he like as a child?" Asked Ophelia.
"The exact same." Replied Mrs Cole. She wasn't a friend. That much was obvious. She was more than that. Mrs Cole assumed that Ophelia saw her as a parental figure she had to impress. "Quiet. Nose always stuck in a book. Sometimes he drew."
Ophelia smiled brightly at the woman. "He drew?"
"Quite well." Said Mrs Cole shortly.
"Hello." Said a male voice from behind her that she didn't recognize. She turned around to see Billy Stubbs. "You're ribbon girl aren't you?"
"I suppose I am." Said Ophelia, her eyebrows furrowing. She didn't like that boy. He looked grimy. "Mrs Cole," began Ophelia, turning back to the woman, "where is Tom's room?"
"I can take you." Said Billy, walking towards her. She despised his vibes.
"I just need directions." Said Ophelia.
"Ophelia," said the cold voice she knew well from the bottom of the stairs. He glared daggers at Billy.
She smiled at him, and walked rather quickly towards him.
"Tom, I'm so happy to see you." She said as his arms pulled her into a tight hug.
Mrs Cole looked as though she may fall from her seat. Billy Stubbs looked annoyed.
"Come on," said Tom, as he pulled her up to his room her hand in his feeling right.
They entered his room and he shut the door. She walked around the room. "So this is where you grew up." She mumbled as she peered around his room.
"It's small." He said.
"I just always pictured a library, just like little baby Tom already reading Jane Eyre." Said Ophelia, touching the spines of some of the books on his desk.
If there was one thing that didn't fit in this room it was her. She was just so bright.
"That would have been highly improbable." Said Tom, his lips quirking Upwards as she touched the rocks on his mantle.
"I never knew you drew." She said as she pulled her attention from the rocks. She sat on his bed, and looked up at him, eyes full of wonder.
"You never asked." He said, sitting next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "What exactly did Mrs Cole tell you?"
"She just said you were quiet, you read a lot and that you drew." She replied, her smile now etched in eternity in his mind. SHe was just so honest with him. guilt nipped at the back of his skull as he thought of how dishonest he was with her.
Ophelia was just a happy person who wanted him to be happy too. She even had subtle dimples on her cheeks. Tom thought to himself that no god could ever make a creature so perfect.
"It was the only way to pass the time." He said, and she put her head on his shoulder.
"I'm sure you were bloody brilliant at it. Knowing you." She said, "You never half ass anything."
"You were published?" He questioned, and she removed her head from his shoulder to grin at him.
"I was and I'm so proud. I can't believe it. It's out next week, mum says that she'll frame a copy." Said Ophelia her eyes slight with happiness.
"That's incredible." Said Tom smiling, he rather liked that she was clever and charming. It always did come through in her writing. Even a bloody transfiguration essay of hers had him smiling a bit. He loved the fact that she was his. A witch that incredible was his. "But unsurprising."
She kissed him. He cradled the back of her head as she moved her lips against his. He loved her. At least those were the emotions that were meant to accompany love. Happiness, content, possession, attraction.
"Is the door locked?" She asked as she pressed kisses onto his lips.
"Yes." He replied, slowly pushing her down so she was lying on his bed.
"Good." She muttered as he began to trail kisses down her neck. "Very good."
—
Tom was lying in his bed Ophelia was in his arms. Tom ran a hand down her spine. She was laughing at something he had said. She was so easy to laughter.
"I adore you." He muttered.
"I like it when you get all romantic with me." Said Ophelia,
"I know." Said Tom, he wanted to keep her around and he knew this was one of the number one ways to do so. Being himself almost always seemed to be enough though. It was odd how little she knew about his life.
"What was it like growing up here?" Asked Ophelia, entwining her fingers with his. She was still in her sundress. he still had his top on. Only now their hair was significantly more messed up.
"Awful. Hogwarts is home." He said shortly, his jaw tensing.
"When we graduate," She said, "What are you going to do?"
"I have a job lined up at Borgin and Burke's." Said Tom and she furrowed her eyebrows, "What?"
"The ministry will beat down your bloody door." She said, and he felt a frown tug at his lips. She did not seem at all disappointed just disbelieving.
"I don't know." Said Tom, "I am a half blood."
"Power trumps blood status, love." She said and it was his turn to look at her in disbelief.
"I never thought I'd hear you say that." He said, she rolled her eyes. It was a common place in her life. She knew she did not have the most serious of appearances and a loud personality to boot but she could be smart too god dammit.
"And why is that? Not appropriate pillow talk?" She questioned teasingly.
"I never really thought that you thought about things like that." He said, not catching the almost angry look she gave him.
"I think about everything. If I didn't fucking think do you really think I would have made head girl?" She asked and Tom felt a smile spread across his face. He turned to face her.
"Really? So I won't have to deal with Edgecomb all year?" He asked and she grinned at him.
"Yes, got the letter this morning." She said.
Tom was happy. HE felt his own age. He felt alive. There were so many things to love about Ophelia. But what always came above the rest was the way she made him feel.