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𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟑
IT HAD BEEN WEEKS SINCE OPHELIA HAD LAST ENCOUNTERED TOM RIDDLE, the boy seemingly having to have forgotten about her existence altogether. Perhaps he had lost interest, Ophelia wondered, for the idea was plausible. After all, she was rather plain to the naked eye. At least, that's what she thought. That's what Olive had said that night all those weeks ago. And no matter how many times Josephine and Charlie tried to erase the criticism from Ophelia's head, it wouldn't budge. She was plain, a prude and boring. Other than the secret she held, there wasn't much to her apart her looks, which even then, she didn't see the big deal about.
However, she didn't allow the insecurities to affect her day-to-day living, choosing to surround herself with better company as she progressed through the first few weeks of her fifth year. The workload was tiring and had increased drastically compared to their fourth year, but that was to be expected, since they would be sitting their OWL's in mere months. But Ophelia allowed the work to distract her, almost as a form of therapy. Her friends thought she had gone mad but agreed to accompanying her to the library during their free periods.
Alas, her sleeping schedule had yet to fully improve. Though, it hadn't gotten worse and she was seeing improvements. Her nights were mostly spent staring out onto the Black Lake from her dormitory window, clad in her night gown as she ran her fingers over her diary. She hadn't written anything in it for a while, as she hadn't had any visions or dreams worth documenting, but she still kept it with her for comfort reasons. But she had gotten better at covering up her sleep deprivation.
Waking up on the fourth week back at school, Ophelia got changed into her uniform before heading over to her vanity mirror she had placed beside her bed. It was gold with intricate patterns etched into it, forming to tell a story she couldn't quite remember the name of. It was a Shakespearean one that she hadn't read but the mirror was gift from Josephine, who had a muggle mother who had introduced her to the plays. Looking into the mirror, Ophelia ran her fingers under her eyes gently, seeing the faint dark circles that had formed under her brown eyes. Her hair, which had grown to her waist, had taken up most of her time and had left her arms aching. In the end, she decided to leave it out, the silky dark hair - that was a signature feature for the Black family - cascading down like a waterfall. And the faint dark circles were covered flawlessly with cosmetics, the makeup disguising the blemishes.
Upon walking into the common room, Ophelia scanned the room for Josephine, who had been waiting for her since getting ready herself. But her eyes first fell upon a group of Slytherin's sitting on the black leather sofa, sprawled out in a way that prevented anyone else from sitting with them. Sat among them was Rosier, Avery, Lestrange and Tom Riddle, the last of which had his dark eyes set on her from the moment she walked in. Just for a moment, their eyes locked and Ophelia felt an overwhelming need to leave, never feeling so vulnerable in a long time. But thankfully, his watchful gaze was blocked by Josephine and Charlie, both of whom had walked over to her in that fleeting moment of distraction.
