DEAR DADDY,
I wanted to thank you for sending me extra allowance this month, and to add that I miss you very much. How is Mummy? Please give her my love, and tell her the pastries she sent were delicious.
My extra classes are going on fabulously. Professor McGonagall said my transfiguration is OWL level. How cool is that? She said at the rate I'm going, I'll be a wizarding prodigy.
I can't wait for the first Hogsmeade visit of the year, it's supposed to be soon.
I wanted to tell you something of importance. Things haven't been great between Draco and I, and I wanted to ask you to stop writing to him, and telling him to check up on me. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I can defend myself, and I'm rather gifted with hexes, should harm befall me.
I'm sorry if this letter upsets you. But Draco is driving me mentally insane.
I love you.
Ophelia.
The letter wasn't detailed, but again, Ophelia didn't want her father to worry about her, and neither did she want him to really understand what exactly was going on with her brother. The next day, however, she received the reply.
My Dearest, Darling Ophelia,
Thank you for your letter. I am glad you have started writing to me again. As for your lessons, I am so proud of you, Princess. But then again, I expect no less of a Malfoy.
I am not too thrilled about your request, however, I suppose we can come to a negotiation. I will tell Draco only to watch you from afar, and write to me should he find you in predicament.
If you need any more money to spend in Hogsmeade, to write. And Professor McGonagall mentions you are eating and sleeping well, which I hope is true.
I also heard Potter was selected as a Triwizard Champion. That boy does have a penchant for seeking attention, doesn't he? The first task is dragons. I bet he won't last more than five minutes.
Tomorrow there will be a reporter arriving at Hogwarts, by the name of Rita Skeeter. She has a tendency for gossip. Do not get on her wrong side, and steer clear of her. I cannot have you victimized by her stupid quill.
Take care, Princess,
L. Malfoy.
SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY
THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION
When Ophelia Malfoy entered the Great Hall for breakfast, she noticed a few Slytherins, (Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle and Daphne Greengrass) handing out badges with this slogan in bright red.
When pressed, the badges changed their slogan to POTTER STINKS! Obviously, she found these marvelously funny, if it weren't for the fact that her brother made them. Whereas she would have normally worn one, she felt rebellious, and decided she didn't want anything to do with her brother after what happened two nights ago.
Her lessons were awfully dull and boring the rest of the day, with nobody really paying attention since they were all too busy either gossiping about Potter, or talking on how Diggory and Krum were likely to win the tournament.
While she was busy doing everything to avoid Potter, it seemed that Colin Creevey was following Potter around like a personal assistant, even fetching him from Potions to take photographs or something like that, she'd heard someone say.
Not that it mattered anyway, since she didn't care about Potter, Creevey, or his stupid brother.
If there was one word to describe the next two weeks, it was uneventful. Draco hadn't approached her at all, and she had Lucius to thank for that since her mind was so much more clearer when she didn't have her brother to continuously put her down or mock her. As if it were an added bonus, Theodore Nott seemed to stay clear of her too, and that only improved her mood further.
Unfortunately, due to the Triwizard Tournament, the Quidditch Cup was cancelled this year, and although there would be no team, Ophelia decided it was best to stay practiced so she would be able to make the team next year.
She was a Gryffindor, and slowly, if not surely, she was beginning to embrace it. She loved Quidditch, and not being in the house of her forefathers would not stop her from trying out for the Gryffindor team.
Hence, every single night, she'd take out her new Firebolt, and fly a couple of laps around the pitch, to keep herself in shape. She'd practice throwing the quaffle, beating the bludgers, and even tried a hand in catching the snitch. That way, she was well prepared for any position. In a way, it felt good, for her to have this sort of stability in her life. She'd return to the common room tired, and after taking a shower, she'd get sweet, peaceful sleep.
As far as it went to say, Ophelia Malfoy was what one could call satisfied. She called herself happy. Everything was okay. Everything was alright.
Her father had been right about the Rita Skeeter woman. About ten days ago, she'd published an article about how Harry Potter had been chosen as champion, how he was apparently, in love with the mudblood Granger, and how much he missed his dead parents and cried all night for them.
Of course, this finally took her off as the main subject of gossip at Hogwarts for once!
Additionally, Potter, Weasley and the Granger girl seemed to be undergoing some friendship issues. Apparently Weasley blamed Potter for putting his name in the goblet, and became jealous, and the two boys were fighting.
Ophelia called this fiasco Trouble in Paradise, and it was very amusing to watch. Especially with Granger playing owl, and their constant arguments in the Gryffindor common room.
Two days before the first task, the date had been set for the first Hogsmeade visit, and Ophelia couldn't have been any more excited. Dressed in a cute pair of jeans and a pink sweatshirt, she tied her hair into a ponytail, applied her makeup and set off.
It didn't bother her that she was going alone, in fact, she didn't really look up to the fact that if she were with someone, she'd have to endure endless chatter. She was perfectly happy going on adventures herself.
Hogsmeade was exactly as Lucius and Narcissa had described it as. Perfect, and quaint, like something out of one of Ophelia's mother's muggle books. Like those perfect villages with the twisted, cobblestoned pathways and cottages with thatched roofs.
"It's perfect," she murmured to herself, looking around the village in awe, as soon as she entered.
"It is, isn't it, Miss Malfoy?" said Professor McGonagall, who'd materialized beside her. "It is even better when you have someone beside you," she pointed out.
"I prefer my own company, Professor," Ophelia replied stiffly.
"Do enjoy yourself, Miss Malfoy," Professor McGonagall replied, before giving her a tight-lipped smile and heading into The Three Broomsticks.
She first sauntered along the path, until coming to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Curiously, she entered, marveling at all the different types of quills.
She bought a wonderful eagle feather quill, with sharp point that would never get blunt, and a special kind of rare ink that shifted colors, which she later found out contained unicorn blood. It costed seven galleons.
When she entered the Three Broomsticks, hungry, and craving a butterbeer, she found herself a table, and ordered one from Madam Rosmerta, the barmaid.
Her butterbeer arrived, and when she was halfway done with it, she noticed her brother sitting in one of the booths, accompanied by three others. Ophelia nearly choked and threw her glass away when she realized who they were.
It looked like Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott had come on a double date with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, and it looked like both couples were making out.
It sickened her stomach.
Of course, she had never thought her brother attractive, but other girls in his year, and younger did, which was revolting enough. He was only fourteen! And here he was, publicly shoving his tongue down Parkinson's throat.
Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass mirrored their actions, and Ophelia was disgusted. She had never particularly witnessed anyone making out, except for the casual kiss her parents exchanged once in a while.
But seeing it in the flesh was traumatizing. She wished she could gouge her eyes out and forget.
She nearly threw up. Refusing to finish the rest of her butterbeer, her appetite gone, she left The Three Broomsticks and continued on the cobbled pathway, and gradually, she noticed that there were fewer Hogwarts students here. She saw another narrowed pathway, barely enough for her to squeeze through and continued on this path, which was silent and deserted, for the most part, until seeing a tiny door at the end of the street.
Getting closer, she noticed it to be a bookstore.
That excited her. Running to the bookstore, she could barely see through the French glass doors, that seemed to be layered in dust. From what she could tell, the once, royal blue painting had faded, and the gold lettering that had once been the name had peeled off.
She entered, and a small bell jingled the moment she opened the door, chiming through the dark and dusty store. She looked around. It was dark, with low ceilings, and piles and piles of books were scattered everywhere, like a maze on the floor, and every flat surface. The air smelled of the yellowing pages of old books, and the atmosphere was silent, yet filled with the whispers of the tragic stories of every one of the books.
Ophelia's fingers tingles, and her grey eyes weren't big enough to take anything in. A few candles were placed on the stacks of books, wax melting into strange shapes and sizes.
It was deserted.
"Hello?" Ophelia called out cautiously. Her feet were leaving prints in the floor that was covered in dust, and she nearly coughed. "Hello?" she called again, this time a bit louder.
A creaking of a door, and a shuffling of footsteps alerted Ophelia of someone's presence in the shop beside her own, and it looked to be coming down the metal, narrowed, spiral staircase. When it was once painted black, it now looked like the forgotten pieces of second-hand metal.
She drew her wand, before an elderly man stepped into view. He was slightly hunched, and had greying hair that reached his shoulders, and a beard. Dressed in an old, white button up and grey suspenders, he had a pair of glasses perched on his slightly long nose. "Good afternoon," the man spoke, his voice sounding unused, and slightly muffled.
"G-good afternoon," she said softly, lowering her wand slightly, staring at the old man curiously with her grey eyes.
His face was wrinkled, and his teeth were a slight yellowish tinge. But his most remarkable feature were his eyes. Bright green, clear and sparkling, like two emeralds. She looked into those green eyes and saw tales of his past, of all his adventures, and everything he'd seen.
The man was staring at her, observing her for a minute, until he smiled, and spoke. "Miss Malfoy."
Ophelia was stunned, and she gasped, taking a step back, lifting her wand up and bumping into a stack of books, nearly tripping over and falling. "H-how do you know my n-name?" she managed to stutter, fear bubbling in the pits of her intestines.
"You look remarkably like your mother," the old man said with a smile. "But you have your father's eyes. Forgive me for giving you a fright," he wheezed, letting out a cough as Ophelia stood up, the dust in the air after knocking down a stack of books.
"Y-you know my parents?" she whispered, slowly inching her wand downwards, retracting her arm.
"Knew," he corrected. "The last time I saw your mother was in her seventh year," he recalled, taking off his dusty glasses and polishing them with a filthy rag.
"My mother was here?" Ophelia asked, sitting down on a stack of books on the floor, wedging her feet between two piles of old books. There was barely any space to stand or walk, for the matter.
"Ah yes, many years ago," he recalled. "She was one of the only ones who used to come in here, back in those days."
Ophelia listened intently. Her mother had mentioned Hogsmeade, but clearly forgotten to mention this particular place. Why? Why had her mother hidden this from her?
"And... my father?" she asked softly.
"Your father," he hummed, pulling out a tall three-legged stool and perching himself on there, with great difficulty. "Lucius Malfoy. He came in here with your mother, once or twice.."
"And?" she pressed.
The old man chuckled. "Back then, this was a bookstore," he told her. "Your father came in her once or twice to buy a book. And your mother? Every single Hogsmeade weekend she was here, buying book after book and coming in to discuss her opinion about it."
The edges of her lips turned upwards. While normally, she'd take what she wanted and get out of there, the old man's mere presence was enough for her to be herself. Truly and completely, she was able to be herself, without worrying about what anyone would think.
"Isn't it a bookstore still, Sir?" she asked, swallowing the remnants of the butterbeer residue in her mouth.
"Ah no," the man shook his head. "Not anymore."
"How come it's still open?" she pointed out.
"It never closed officially," the old man chuckled. "Eventually, people stopped coming here. None of the Hogwarts children come this way. I have been forgotten. Many a time ago, I was visited by many young children looking for adventures. And now, there are none left. It seems like nobody wishes to venture out into the rest of the world and beyond."
"I found this place," Ophelia countered. "And I think it's wonderful," she remarked in awe. "But it is a bit.. messy."
The elder smiled and nodded. "Indeed it is. After seven years of no visits from students, I gave up on trying to maintain this place. It used to be my home. And now, I am going to sell it."
"And what will you do with all the books?" she asked, her jaw dropping.
"Alas, I must burn them."
"No!" Ophelia nearly shouted. "I want to read them. All of them. After I'm done, then you can burn them."
The old man chuckled. "You remind me so much of Narcissa," he reminisced. "She was very headstrong about me keeping the shop. You see, while she was at Hogwarts, I had an offer. Someone wished to buy the shop, and she protested, and used to give me all her monthly allowance to keep this shop open. In return, I used to let her take whichever book she wanted.."
Ophelia looked around the abandoned bookshop. "If nobody was coming here, then why haven't you sold it yet? How come you were here today?"
"I never left, Miss Malfoy," the old man said feebly. "This is my home."
Her lips parted. She understood. And then, reaching into her bag, she took out all the extra allowance her father had sent her and placed it on the table. "Here," she said softly. "Please, don't sell the shop."
The old man's bright green eyes welled up with glassy tears, and he pushed the bag towards her. "I'm afraid I cannot accept this, Miss Malfoy. It is too much."
"No," she shook her head. "Losing all these books would be unacceptable," she persisted. "Please," she was saying. "Don't sell the shop. I still haven't gone for my adventures yet," she said quietly. "And I want you to take me around the world, and show me what I've been missing. I don't have anybody. I don't have any friends." Her eyes were welling up too.
It was rather comical, how she had barely been in the store for ten minutes, and she was already crying for the possible loss of it. But that was Ophelia. She had opened her heart to the bookstore, and had already gotten attached to it. She felt home in here.
"Miss Malfoy..." he tried, clearing his throat.
"For my mother," she tried, looking into his eyes. "I don't think she'd want this place to be closed.."
"Miss Malfoy..." he sighed, before rubbing his eyes. "I... cannot thank you enough..."
She looked up at him, letting out a sigh of relief that he'd accepted her money. "Call me Ophelia," she said softly.
"Very well, Ophelia," he smiled tiredly. "I am Edmund Harper, and it a pleasure to make your magical acquaintance."
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Harper," she sent him a genuine smile. One that showed all her teeth, and made her eyes sparkle, and formed a dimple in her left cheek.
Ophelia had just made her first friend.
Mr. Harper had insisted she take the books for free, and she left Harper and Sons with two new books that now lay perfectly wrapped in brown paper in her bag, and she simply couldn't wait to start reading them.
She had spent the rest of her time in Harper and Sons, and soon, it was time to return to Hogwarts.
Boarding a carriage that would take her back to school, and clearly in a very good mood, Ophelia opened one of her books and began to read. On reaching Hogwarts, she was already hooked onto the book, so instead of going inside, she sat in the Quidditch stands, her book in her lap, sucking on a Sugar Quill.
"Why didn't you say anything?" a voice interrupted her from her reading.
She looked up. Theodore Nott had approached her; sitting beside her, in the same bench as she was.
She had had two weeks without him, and didn't want to talk to him, so Ophelia ignored him, and turned back to reading her book.. It was entitled Heidi and was proving to be very interesting so far.
"I'm talking to you, Malfoy," the brown haired boy spoke. "Why didn't you tell your brother it was me that gave your those bruises?"
She still didn't answer. She didn't want to talk to him. At all.
Ophelia was nearly done with the first chapter, and she was already lost in Heidi's world.
She was far from happy at the thought of what she had done, for the child had been left in her care by her dying mother. She quieted herself, however, with the idea that she would be better able to do something for the child if she was earning plenty of money, and it was a relief to her to think that she would soon be far away from all these people who were making such a fuss about the matter, and she rejoiced further still that she was at liberty—
The book was snatched out of her hands, and she looked up, her cold grey eyes hardening as Nott now held her open book.
"Give that here," she hissed, her voice dangerously low.
"First answer my question, Malfoy," Theodore said coolly. "Then you can go back to reading your stupid book."
"It's none of your business," Ophelia remarked.
Theodore placed his hands at the covers of her book. "Watch how you speak to me—"
"Or what?" Ophelia bit back, standing up. "Will you give me more bruises? Tell me, what will you tell Draco this time?"
"I'm not afraid of your brother," Theodore scowled, advancing on her with his tall frame. "I asked you a question, and you will answer, or I will rip this book to shreds."
"You wouldn't." Ophelia tilted her head, her heart stopping.
"I will," Nott hissed, leaning closer to her, malice in his eyes. "I will rip every single page right here in front of you."
"Don't you dare," Ophelia snarled through gritted teeth, staring at him with burning hatred through her narrowed eyes.
"Try me," Theodore whispered darkly.
"Give it back," she seethed.
"First answer me. Why didn't you tell Draco it was me?" Theodore asked, smirking. He was clearly in power here, and he enjoyed every moment of it, watching the little girl lose herself over one stupid book.
Ophelia clicked her tongue, annoyed. She didn't have a reason for not telling Draco. She just didn't want Lucius to find out, so it was a secret she kept to herself. He didn't need to know that. And he was acting like a spoiled child. So she decided to give him exactly that.
A good lesson.
"So because you want me to answer you, you take my book, and threaten to rip it?" she asked, her voice back to its usual arrogant drawl. "Bit childish for you, isn't it, Nott?" she remarked. "But then again, you are a spoiled child, who's gotten everything served on a golden plate since birth. I'm not telling you what you want to know," she folded her arms. "Until you ask nicely."
"I'm warning you, Malfoy—"
"No, Nott," she chuckled darkly, I'm warning you," she interrupted. "Now, you will give me my book, or this time, I will write to my father and tell him it was you who gave me those bruises. And then, I'll see you at your funeral," she finished off.
"I swear to God, Malfoy," Theodore hissed. "If you don't want to tell me, fine," he hissed. "But I'm not giving you your book to teach you a lesson, because it's about damn time you start respecting your superiors. Ask nicely, and apologize."
"No," she crossed her arms across her chest, standing up to try and level to his height. But he was nearly half a foot taller than her. "And you're not my superior here. I am your superior. SO maybe take a page out of your own book and start respecting me, because—"
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiip.
The sound of tearing pages. Over and over again. Ophelia couldn't think. Her mind had frozen, and her eyes were fixated on the torn pages that began fluttering as the wind trapped them, victimizing them in its breeze.
Theodore was tearing her book. What's more, he was enjoying it. Page after page, the words being broken into half. Her book was suddenly no more.
And it had broken her heart.
Ophelia, who was trying so hard not to cry, simply glared at Theodore so hard that her eyes hurt from holding her tears in, and glaring with hatred, at the same time.
"I really, really hate you," she hissed, turning around and storming off. She didn't stop until she reached her spot in the library.
It was there that she started crying.
{ i'm sorry, i'm sorry. no, i'm not. ophelia can never be in a good mood for long— this was quite fun to write. please feel free to leave your thoughts and comments. follow, vote, and share please :) follow me on spotify. my username is dessertoholic. and take care, love you guys. jasmine. }
{FEB 27. 2023}