Oh, Ophelia | Tom Riddle

Broken

"Rose," he said, and she looked up from her copy of Hamlet, act four scene seven had become her favourite to read, "I am going to London on a bit of business,"

"Alright, darling," said Ophelia, "May I ask why or is it private?"

"All you need to know is that I'll be back in three days," he said, "If you can bear it,"

"I don't think I can. Are you open to taking me with you?" She asked,

"I'm afraid it's all business no time for, pleasure." He said, as he stood and sat beside her on the couches

"Such a shame, I rather like London." Said Ophelia in her neat British accent,

"Hamlet, again?" He asked, looking at her book,

"I rather enjoy it." She said defensively, running a hand over the page,

"Have you thought about children, Rose?" He asked suddenly, and she looked to him,

"Not much," said Ophelia, she didn't want his kids, she wanted- well never mind who's kids she wanted she didn't want to bear Andrew's kids,

"Mother loves you, you should know," he said, not particularly paying attention to the paling face of his fiancé,

"I'm flattered, that woman has impeccable taste," said Ophelia, as he wrapped an arm around her,

"She said that we would have the most beautiful children,"

"You know I'm only twenty," said Ophelia, lying about her age,

"I'm aware," said Andrew, and Ophelia looked in front of her, "How many kids do you want?"

"None right now, can't we just enjoy being together, darling?" Asked Ophelia,

"I think enjoying being together is how we get a kid," said Andrew and she laughed, "I love your laugh,"

"Glad to hear it." She said, "You will be hearing my laugh for the rest of your life,"

"That is music to my ears," said Andrew, "Why do you love Hamlet so much anyways?"

"I just love how someone can make tragedy beautiful," said Ophelia,

"Well said,"

—

"Love, please," said Ophelia, knocking on his door, "Please be here," she'd received a patronus from Tom and he had said that he needed her so naturally there she was,

"Poppy?" Said an all too familiar voice, and she turned to face him slowly,

"English?" She said before she could think, Carl was at the end of the hallway holding a letter, "I mean Carl,"

"You're Irish," he said approaching her, and then the door was opened,

"Ophelia, Carl, come in," said Tom, and they did as they were told sitting across from each other at Tom's kitchen table,

"I brought cookies," she muttered, setting the plate on the table, "stress baking." She explained, "What are you doing here?"

"Riddle said he could get you here," said Carl, as Tom sat down next to Ophelia and put an arm around her shoulders, she relaxed out of habit,

"He did, did he?" She said, shooting Tom a glance,

"Yes." Said Carl,

"The man was going mad looking for you," said Tom,

"Po- Ophelia, did you love me?" Asked Carl and Ophelia froze.

Now, reader, what would you do if you were in her situation,