Ophidian Crown | A Draco Malfoy FanFiction

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔢𝔫

Breaking the young girl out of her deep trance, a firm foot struck her shin, eliciting a scanty yelp from her lips.

"Sorry," Goyle mumbled, shooting a pitiful look toward Ophelia before turning back to the rest of their friends. Crabbe had packed the jam-slathered potato into his jaw, partially-chewed bits and pieces of root tumbling past his mouth onto the table before him as he struggled to swallow the repulsive compound. Draco barked with laughter as the stout boy sped out of the hall, presumably on his way to vomit into the toilet. Staring back at her plate full of speared carrots, it seemed she had lost her appetite for the evening.

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Ophelia watched as his robes vanished behind another sealed door, slamming shut in her face with a loud bang. Muttering some inadequate insults, this would be the last time. Obviously, he didn't want to be seen with her in public, so the only feasible way to talk to him was to corner him in the common room. And that's precisely what she did.

After another painstakingly long Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Q-Q-Quirrel, watching him drop his shaky wand for the eighth time while staring at the back of Draco's perfectly gelled platinum hair. As the stuttering professor dismissed them all, Ophelia gathered up her books in record time. She descended the stairs two, three at a time, nearly tripping over her own heels as she did so. Catching the eye of a particular crimson-clad trio, she tossed an arm into the air in reply, dismissing their queries for her to stop. As she approached the Slytherin entrance, she practically yelled the message and sped through the tunnel. She received a few peculiar glances and objections from older students trying to leave, but she didn't give them any mind. All she was focused on was Draco. Swinging the girls' dormitory door open, she paused for a moment, listening for the rest of the first years as they came in, Parkinson's raucous giggling hovering above it all. Catching her breath, the young girl flung her trunk open, stuffing the rest of her textbooks amidst the various button-ups and skirts, mixed between laundered and dirty. She'd have to divide those up later. She slammed her trunk shut, leaping onto her bed with her copy of History of Magic, littered with scribbles and sketches from the past hundred reads. Flipping to a random page, she admired the rough sketch of a werewolf, it's head angled back in a distressing way, lamenting at the sickle moon. She didn't recognise the drawing, but it was rather good. She dragged a finger across the charcoal streaks, internally cursing herself as the sombre dust sullied across the page.

"As I was saying-" Pansy barged into the dormitory, causing Ophelia to jump slightly and scramble to a comfortable position. Her tights chafed against one another as she crossed her legs lazily, dragging her eyes over the same inky line, attempting to look invested in whatever she was reading... wolfsbane?

"Oh, it's you." The raven-haired girl frowned down, tossing her books into her respective trunk and turned to the mirror on her bedside table. She raked hands through her scalp, fluffing her hair over her shoulders and turning back around to Daphne, another loathsome Slytherin girl who was fastening her tie around her neck, wiggling the knot until it was somewhat satisfactory. Peeling her tiring eyes from the stock page, Ophelia shut the book with a thump, swaying her legs over the side of the bed and closed the book inside her nightstand.

"May I ask where you're going?" She mocked their pitched voices and pulled her lips into a thin half-smirk. Pansy frowned and settled her hands upon her hips, cocking her head to the side in repugnance. She gave the curious impression of a chicken, and Ophelia almost prepared herself for the girl to cluck out her next ridicule.

"Going to the library to study, don't follow us." She tossed the sham advice in just to taunt Ophelia, clearly mocking her warped bond with Malfoy. The raven-haired Slytherin shot another glare at her classmate before retiring from the dormitory, with Daphne in tow. The blonde was still slightly perplexed about the interaction the two girls just had, pulling the door behind her with a thud. Left alone in the room, Ophelia sighed and stood up, smoothing out her skirt in a timely fashion and tugged off her house robe, leaving it on the bed to hang up later. Her dress shoes clacked along the wooden floorboards as she slipped through the entrance into the dimly lit hallway. Many of the girls were also retiring to their chambers, shutting their doors in an uncouth sequence, with their brass door knockers banging against the ageing timber, only to be quelled moments later. She wandered down the hallway on the balls of her feet, peeking around the corner she saw the group preparing themselves to leave, whispering amidst themselves. "Library," sure. She plastered herself against the corridor wall as Draco came into view, haughtily smirking at his group of minions as he descended the steps into the foyer, imitating the cliche conceited member of some royal family, though the Malfoys weren't anything less. The "Slytherin Prince", a rather pompous title, is what everyone was calling him nowadays. In her opinion, Draco was anything but. Sure, the whole "he's from a rich pureblood Slytherin wizarding family," shtick is there, but it gets tiring after a while. It loses its ring over time.

She watched as he shoved his way into the circle, a mischievous smirk toying on his face as he watched Goyle dig his hands into his pockets, enclosing the foreign object in his palm after the blonde had inspected it thoroughly. Her ushered the group out, lingering back to see if anyone was watching them. When their distant chattering had silenced, he stuffed his hands into his pockets as well, turning to close the door behind him. Without thinking, Ophelia tore away from her hiding spot, leaping up the steps towards the entrance and yanked him backwards by the elbow, practically dragging him up another flight of stairs as he struggled against her firm grip. When they got to the second landing, she thrust him towards a plush hassock, folding her arms across her chest in annoyance.

"Why are you ignoring me?" She asked, rather bluntly. He was now sitting down, hands abrading his legs in anticipation. He was tense, that's for sure.

"It's nothing." She scoffed at his dull answer.

"Well, it's obviously something." After weeks, he finally met her eyes, and she watched as his pupils dilated, though it might have transpired out of fear. Her face felt menacing. He was out of breath, as was she. His chest inflated with every brittle inhale he took. He gazed over his shoulder, staring longingly at the rather inviting entrance with pleading eyes. This wasn't the Draco she knew, no, it was still him, but he was stripped of his arrogance and hatred. Vulnerable, open for all the world to see. Something she hadn't seen in a long time. Shaking her head, she grit her teeth.

"They won't miss you." He whipped his head around, features instantly tensing as his jaw opened, eager to fling insults at the abrasive girl, though clamped it shut when he witnessed her fervent cast. He frowned, sinking back upon the balustrade as he scanned the room for people. When he found none, he sighed and curled forward, leaning against his bent knees.

"I wish you didn't hang out with them." That's what this is about? She hid a leer of amusement and decided to play dumb.

"With who?"

"You know who, Ophelia." He huffed, clasping his hands under his chin and gritted his teeth, scowling at the mere thought of the Gryffindor trio. Equally annoyed, she snapped.

"So we're on a first-name basis now? After days of ignoring me over some trivial friendship I hold, who are you to get angry?" He opened his mouth to object, but swallowed his tongue instead and pouted, broodily staring at the floor between his two feet. He didn't say anything, so she continued on.

"I miss you, Draco. I miss my best friend," He perked up, shifting oddly upon the bench as she took a seat beside him, dragging her hands along the sumptuous fabric.

"I don't want you to shut me out because of who I'm friends with, and whom not." He turned his head, lips still curled into a weak frown while he listened to her intently. She shook her head again.

"I can't promise you I'll stop being friends with them," He cringed again, glowering at the mere mention of the trio. She rolled her eyes and inched closer.

"But I assure you, I cherish our bond, our friendship." She stood up, rounding about to face the boy head-on.

"So I'm asking you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, would you like to be my friend?" Ophelia stuck out a stiff hand, similar to the one he had offered Harry on the night of the Great Feast. But there was no rejection. He lifted a pale hand from the depths of his robes, clasping her hand into a firm shake. Pulling her into a hug, he muttered apologetic words, constricting his snake-like embrace around her torso. She melted into the hug, making up for lost time. Finally, he was here.

And he was here to stay.