Femme Fatale ||Tom Riddle||

3

As the weeks went on, Tom watched as Ophélie transformed into the socialite of Hogwarts. Her French charm and ever-friendly disposition meant that everyone knew her name. Despite everyone knowing her name, even her closest circle barely knew a real thing about her. But they could sense her confidence, and that aura of something greater, and stayed by her side in hopes it would rub off on them as well.

Another thing nobody knew about the time she spent in the library. Specifically the restricted section. Ophélie wanted to do it all, and if that meant sneaking around to learn more than what Hogwarts was teaching her, then so be it. Her first point of study was Legilimency, and its counterpart- occulemency. Not that she had a dire need to learn the skill, but it seemed unfair that there were forms of magic that existed that no-one would tell them about. Ophélie was used to teaching herself, though. So with a book lent from the Restricted section, she got to work.

It was more difficult to practice than Ophélie had realized. The theory was there, but since she had embarked on this alone, she had no-one to try to look into, or to try and defend herself from. She needed a partner. She flipped through her list of friends and decided that none of them would do, so her thoughts shifted to other possible test subjects. An unsuspecting first year would be a good test of Legillimensy, but it was doubtful one would be able to test her skills of defense. When she met eyes with that same boy she always felt staring at her, she made up her mind.

Tom seemed to be her best shot.

The next week in History of Magic, Ophélie took the seat immediately next to Tom. He acknowledged her with a nod. "I suppose your here to rub in your recent social climb?" He teased among the chatter before the lesson began.

"Actually, no" she admitted.

"No?" He echoed, raising a brow in suspicion.

"What do you know about Legilimency?" She asked, keeping her voice low. His expression changed to surprised and then confused in an instant. Tom turned to face her and leaned in.

"Why are you asking?" He questioned, his deep voice just as quiet. Ophélie knew his lack of an answer meant he knew more than the average person would know.

"Can you do it or not, Tom?" She asked, return his glance with an intense gaze.

"I can" he said. Class was beginning at that point and conversations began to dull down.

"Great!" Ophélie smiled, "meet me in the second floor staircase tomorrow evening, about nine" she instructed, switching to French to keep away eavesdroppers. With that, class began. Tom was suspicious. What did she need his Legillimensy skills for? How did she come to know of the practice, let alone suspect him of the capability?

It seemed he would have to wait to get those questions answered, assuming he met her there at all. Tom wasn't one to follow orders; he gave them. But his curiosity won over his stubbornness. He would go at least just to figure out what Ophélie wanted.

Nine-fifteen the following evening, Tom stood in the staircase alone. He had begun to think he had been tricked, and every minute that passed he became increasingly more irritated. That Ophélie was truly loathesome and he was angry that he even bothered to do what she said in the first place.

Until suddenly, there she was- Waltzing into the stair case like nothing was the matter. She saw him and lit up with a bright smile. "Had to be fashionably late, pardon mon cherí." She apologized. He was still upset, and his muscles tensed in anger.

"Next time, show up on time or don't show up at all" he said angrily. His fists clenched, but unclenched at her lack of a sarcastic response. She stared at him with a blank gaze for a few moments.

"Right, anyways, follow me" she said abruptly, turning on a heel and letting her long hair fan out from the spin. She grabbed his hand loosely and began leading him up the stairs. He snatched his hand away like her own was hot as lava. Smirking to herself, she grabbed his hand again, this time lacing her fingers between his. Turning to gague his reaction, he rolled his eyes at her but didn't move away. Ophélie grinned. She had won this round.

She lead him to an unused classroom, and pushed the door open. Empty rows of chairs and tables lined the classroom. With a wave of her wand, the groupings of chairs and tables moved out of the way, except for two chairs, sat at either end of a table. "Curfew starts in fifteen minutes... Aren't you worried someone will get you in trouble?" Tom questioned, leaning in the doorway. Ophélie turned to look at him while chairs continued to float under the direction of her wand.

"You're head boy. Who's getting you in trouble?" She asked. He was about to chime in but realized he had nothing to add. "Have a seat, Tom" she motioned. "I'm sure you're wondering why I brought you here..."

Tom sat in one chair, and Ophélie brushed her hand along his shoulders before sitting in the other chair. "I need your help, Tom." She said decidedly. He smirked, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. "And before you chime in, I wouldn't be asking if this weren't something I needed another person for." She added.

"And it has to do with Legilimency how, exactly?" He drawled, reveling in the fact that she needed him for something.

"I need you to help me learn it. Occulemency as well." she added. She wanted to smack the smug expression off his face, but she doubted that would help her chances much. He seemed to ponder her proposition.

But suddenly she wasn't there in the classroom with Tom, she was home with her mother. Her mother lay in bed, sick. She had been sick for so long, but too stubborn to go to a hospital. If it was her time, it was her time. Of course, she had not considered Ophélie, not that she ever did. When her mother left, Ophélie would have to fend for herself. And yet, she held no resentment towards her mother. She had lived a tragic life and deserved a gentler tide.

"Mama?" She asked quietly, placing a hand over her mother's own fragile hand. Her mother's eyes fluttered open, a weak smile lighting up her face.

Her mother disintegrated into blackness, shapes and shades reforming into something new. She was back at Beauxbatons now. A cluster of her friends gathered around an intricately decorated piano. Beauxbatons was old-fashioned, originally it was a finishing school for wealthy witches. As a result, they still taught etiquette, music, and dance. Many times, Ophélie had laughed away at the piano with her friends, using their music knowledge to come up with silly songs and chants. Sporting events were often filled with choruses of girls using their catchy cheers.

As the memory went on, Ophélie eventually realized that Tom was sifting through her memories. He had started to help her already it seemed... Although she suspected he had used the element of surprise to buy him a few extra moments of time to pry. Occulemency required a separation of emotion, and Ophélie struggled to brush off the warm memories of friendship. The closeness of her friends was not something she had here at Hogwarts. Her group of friends here, Irene and Marlene and all the others, they were shallow, vapid girls. But they were cunning, as much as could be, and that's what Ophélie needed. It was time to grow up and focus.

With that thought, she put all of her energy into expelling Tom from her mind.