I can not say I didn't love him, for I loved him more than life itself. I betrayed everything I've been raised to believe in for him. The bastard doesn't - didn't - know that I love him. I have my regrets. I can only hope that where he is, he regrets it too.
As I stare into the pouring rain, I see nothing but those laughing grey eyes that have haunted me since the night of the Ministry. The night my two worlds collided.
The night my true love died.
I didn't know it then, but it was love at first sight. That's the funny concept, you see. I've never believed in that fairytale cliche crap. There is no such thing as love at first sight. But it happened to me. I just didn't believe it. Perhaps I didn't want to?
Don't you know I'm in love with you
And I wasn't ready
For asylum
I was a Death Eater, a born-and-raised Mudblood and Muggle hater. I used to be a smartass, arrogant, superior, well-known and well-feared. And I loved it. I was my time's Slytherin Princess. I lived for everyday's First Year torture, for every whisper in the hall when I walked by, for every guy's broken heart. Granted, I am not pretty. It was my utter confidence that drew my fellow Slytherins to me.
When I turned seventeen, I joined the ranks of Death Eaters, and managed to snag a spot as Snape's assistant. I spent a lot of time with him, unfortunately. Even though I had been one of his favorite students, it was not enjoyable being in his constant prescence. He was still a bitter, cruel man. I never could understand him.
One day, he had to go to an emergency Order meeting, so I went with him, much to his consternation. That was the day I met my match. I remember it all as if it was yesterday. As I stepped out of the emerald flames into the meeting house, the first sight that greeted me was a grinning man. He quickly frowned when he saw Snape. Then, those laughing grey eyes lit upon me.
To this day, I wonder what first crossed his mind, for a smirk appeared on his face. I wonder what he saw. A dark-haired beauty, as I thought myself to be? Or the manipulative little rat that I really was? Whatever he saw, whatever he thought, he must've liked it.
That smirk never left his face as he spoke. "Got yourself an assistant, Snivellus? I feel terribly sorry for her."
"Contrary to popular belief, I enjoy being Severus's assistant." Being the smartass that I was, I included, "He's very good at what he does."
Much to my displeasure, the handsome man laughed. "Oh, I can't imagine Snivellus being good at anything besides chasing after girls who don't like him."
Snape was about to say something, but I cut in front of him. "You're sadly mistaken, sir." I glowered at him, but he blew me off as if I was nothing.
"Come on, if you must," he said, beckoning us through the door. Snape swept through quickly, his thin mouth set in a line of hatred, but I hesitated. I remember considering to hex the still-smirking man. Oh, that smile. It made me want to rip the dark curls out of his head or kiss him, I couldn't quite decide. It was in my nature to be competitive, and that smile was ticking me off, no matter how handsome he was.
I studied him for a second longer. "You look rather gaunt, sir. What is your name?"
"Sirius Black, dear madam. And yours?"
"Ophelia Cree." So, this was the infamous Black I'd heard so much about. He seemed to be just as cocky, arrogant, and loud as described. Quite handsome too, even being as haggard as he was, though I would never admit that to anyone.
"Well then, Ophelia, after you," he said, almost mockingly, bowing me through the door. I kept my nose in the air as I stepped past him, fighting back a smile.
We live a lie
To let go, now it's dragging me into your grave
After that day, I knew that I had to see him again. I'm a vain person - well, not so much anymore. I thought that he most definitely liked me. And I wasn't going to let such an opportunity slip through my fingers. To show up the great Gryffindor, Sirius Black! Ah, what a lovely day that would be. And personal pleasure of my own, of course.
It was the next week that I saw him again. To my chagrin, I found myself eager for his prescence, his biting remarks. The more time I spent away, the more I thought of him, and the more fantasies I would conjure. I'm not a girl that goes tripping after every good-looking guy around. Well, sort of, but not because I thought I loved them. I just did it to play with them. But this felt different. He just drew me in, with his sarcastic remarks that made me want to smile and rich voice that floated silkily to my ears.
I tried to convince myself that I was gathering information for the Dark Lord. I tried to justify and defend my constant visits to Grimmauld Place. But I never gave any of the information away. Over the past month that I'd visited him, his teasing gradually lessened to gentle comments and normal conversation. We would spend hours discussing this and that. I came close several times to telling him just what I thought about the damn Muggles and Mudbloods and my Dark Lord.
As I sat and listened to him, the longer I didn't argue my own side, I vaguely saw the opposite ideas I was raised to hate. I was becoming unsure. The stable foundation I was raised on was slowly crumbling beneath me. And I continued to listen carefully. I saw how awful it was for the Order, to have friends and family die. Living in the constant fear of death. I didn't worry about such things. My family was protected by the Dark Lord's immense power, and if one of them did die, or myself, it was a great honor for a just cause.
I didn't realize it, but Sirius was slowly changing my mind. Bastard.
Pain grips my body again, dragging me away from my memories. You would think after being in this place for so long, sanity would flee, and then you wouldn't have to wish for death any longer. It would just come, no matter how slowly. A dementor floats by, causing radical shivers to attack my body. I wish they'd suck out pain, despair, and sorrow as well as happiness and love.
I know I'll never know a peaceful night again
Afraid they'll hear me, they don't fear me
When they come around, I guard the memories of Sirius with a fierceness I can barely understand. It's hard for me to grasp the concept of loving someone so much it hurts. As the dementor disappears around the corner, I let my eyes glaze over, submersing myself in the past.
I remember the day he kissed me.
It was a cold, rainy day, much like today. I went to see Sirius under the pretense of retrieving a scarf I'd left on my last visit. When I Flooed in, I was greeted by a grumpy Sirius. He held my scarf in his hands. It was my House scarf, colored emerald and silver.
"You're a Slytherin?"
I gave a sharp laugh, and grabbed it roughly from him. "I'm Snape's assistant. Of course I'm - was - a Slytherin."
His eyebrow went up at my slight hesitation. "Was a Slytherin?"
"I...I graduated."
The grumpy expression he'd harbored earlier had completely disappeared. His normal grin replaced it. "So, just because you've graduated, you're no longer a Slytherin?"
"Why...yes. I'm not a foolish child anymore."
"I still have my Gryffindor pride." He seemed amused at my statement. He could always ruffle my feathers by throwing out a scathing remark and then grinning.
So as he sat there, grinning away about his 'Gryffindor pride', I tried to defend my slowly rotting beliefs. "Gryffindors," I said with a sneer worthy of Snape. "Stupid, filthy, lying bastards who-"
And he kissed me. His hand went to the back of my head, tangling in my hair, while the other went firmly to the small of my back, pressing me into his body. I was in complete shock, but the feel of his soft lips on mine drove any sanity and Slytherin feelings right the hell away. He backed me up against the wall, and I let myself run my hands up his strong back and lock my arms around his neck. The kiss grew deeper as slight moans and gasps escaped us. He disconnected from my lips long enough to nuzzle down my neck, but quickly came back up for another full-fledged snog.
That was only the beginning of our numerous encounters. Now that I look back on those days, I wonder if he ever loved me as much as I loved him. I suppose I was just another girl who's fallen head over heels for him. I suppose I was just the only even remotely pretty girl around that he could shag. I don't want to think that's the truth, but I can never be sure. He's not alive to ask. His imprisonment in Grimmauld Place certainly made him more sexually frustrated.
I even nurtured an insane, teenage girl's desire to marry him for a few weeks. I will admit it, I completely adored the man. He made me feel like I'd never felt before with anyone else. I wish now, oh so badly, that I just would've told him!
A single tear slides down my cheek, but I make no move to wipe it away. I can see it, just under my eye, glistening and sparkling in the flashes of lightning. I tire of this place. I wish I could just end, and join my love in the world beyond.
How can I feel this empty?
I will not recover this time…
This loneliness is killing me
Perhaps it is my namesake. Ophelia. I lost my love not to suicide, but to pure evil, evil that I used to believe and live for. I am the unworthy version of Ophelia. I am not brave, not strong, not beautiful. I am only a lonely, depressed rat, living out the consequences of bad choices in life. It is my fault that Sirius died.
Overcome
By the feeling that I won't get to join you in time
Terror is coursing in me
Dreading the final moments, when I have to breathe
And feel you die
It is my fault that those laughing grey eyes will never open again.
It is my fault that I will never hear him speak again.
It is my fault that his bright light was extinguished much too early.
It is my fault. To be or not to be, that is the question.
My name is Ophelia, and Sirius was my Hamlet.
I close my eyes, and press my hands to my head. A silent scream rips through my mind as I make my choice.
Release me!
Song lyrics stolen from Asylum by Disturbed. I don't own Harry Potter, either, but Ophelia Cree is mine, and so is this little oneshot. :) This one first place in several different contests on another site. I hope you enjoyed, and please review! 3