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THE DAYS FOLLOWING HER "EPISODE" IN THE DORMITORY WERE FAIRLY MUNDANE, Ophelia distancing herself from everyone else, which she usually did after her visions. It always messed with her head, especially due to the content of her last one. All she could hear was that baby crying, and the blood that covered her skin, which is why she had been scrubbing furiously at her skin whenever she had a bath since then. Her sleeping pattern had also been tampered with, only sleeping a few hours each night, resulting in the darkness underneath her eyes that she desperately tried to cover up with makeup powder. But nothing could hide the tiredness in those warm brown eyes of hers.
While the rest of the school feasted in the Great Hall, Ophelia ventured into the courtyard, not having a big enough appetite to join her friends for dinner. Instead, she sat on a cold and empty bench, the light wind whistling in her ears as she attempted to clear her head. It was one of the only times she could, and the quiet courtyard was the perfect location for it. She brought her hand up to her hair and pushed it behind her ears, the baby hairs tickling the sides of her face. The first thing she regretted when deciding to go out into the outdoors was not to bring her robes, leaving her in her gymslip with a pleated skirt. Sighing, she closed her eyes momentarily, before opening them and gazing up dreamily at the sunset, the autumn months causing it to arrive earlier than usual. Her hands danced across the cover of her diary, feeling the leather texture underneath her fingers. Just as her fingers curled around the corners, ready to open it once again, a deep, smooth voice stopped her movements.
"Ophelia Black." Bringing her eyes down from the sunset, she looked across the courtyard, meeting Tom Riddle's. In her four years of being at the school, never had she spoken or even been acknowledged by the Slytherin Prince. And now she had spoken to him for the second time in the space of a week, and she was beginning to think it wasn't coincidental. Looking away from him as if she was scared she would freeze under his gaze, she cleared her throat.
"Tom, aren't you going to dinner?"
"Aren't you?" Tom's quick reply silenced her, deciding not to answer. But her silence was answer enough for him. He began to move towards her slowly, resembling a predator going after its prey. But it was smoother, as if trying to convince her that he wasn't a danger at all. Something in her mind convinced her that wasn't the case. "A good walk is always helpful, to clear the mind. Besides, I just wanted some time to myself."
Nodding in agreement, Ophelia tightened her grip on the diary, her eyes focused solely on the single leaf a few inches away from her feet. But, to her dismay, a black shoe crushed the leaf, also blocking her vision. Her head snapped up, wondering how Tom had gotten so close without her realising it. He smirked, but it was very subtle, and she almost didn't notice it. He held his hand out, and for a moment, Ophelia found herself unable to speak. But she quickly collected herself together, hoping he didn't notice her delay, and placed her hand in his. His hand was surprisingly icy, even for the cold weather, but she didn't withdraw hers.
