I don't wanna get bashed for some of the things I'm going to do to these characters. I know that everyone loves all of them but please respect my story, it's my first. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. We are back to an Ophelia POV! Please enjoy:)
December 6
Ophelia woke up with a small groan. Her body was pressed a quite warm pillow, and she snuggled her cheek deeper into the comfortable heat. Then, the pillow started to shake lightly against her cheek and a deep rumbling sound found its way to her ears. She instantly snapped open her eyes and realized that her pillow was not in fact a pillow, but a pale chest, and extending from it was an arm wrapped firmly around her waist. Blushing furiously as the owner of said continued to chuckle, she slowly trailed her bright green eyes upwards to meet the blazing red orbs of the Dark Lord she had been sleeping on.
"Comfortable, Darling?" He teased, in a sultry tone, his voice rustic with sleep as he smirked down at her. She could feel heat flood into her cheeks as she took in his looks once more. His normally, perfect hair was now messy and had a bit more curl in the black locks than before, and with the way his lips curled on his perfect face, he looked absolutely delicious. She didn't move, not even when his arm released its grip from around her waist and he got up from the bed. He walked right into the bathroom without a backward glance at her, still only in his pajama pants.
Slowly, she got out of the warm bed, once more making it up and straightening each of the soft materials covering the massive mattress. While she perfected the sheets, Ophelia noticed the time she had been reading the day before was still out, on the stand next to the bed, but as she moved to grab it, she heard a loud pop next to her. Jumping, startled by the noise, she turned to see Tippy standing there her large eyes gazing up.
"Tippy did not mean to startle Miss," she said, her voice squeaky. Then she raised her small arms up to give the young witch a bundle of clothing in her arms. "These are for yous Miss, yous need to dress."
Taking the bundle from the elf's arms, Ophelia quickly turned around and began to dress. Tippy had given her another dress, however, this one was different. It was a long-sleeved black dress once more, yet this time, it did not puddle at her feet but ended right above her knees. It was formfitting and the top of the dress hung off of her shoulders. The material was tight around her, but extremely soft, possibly satin she wondered idly. Overall, Ophelia thought it was quite pretty. Too bad I have to wear it in front of the likes of him...
Tippy clapped from behind her and the witch turned to see the elf's huge smile.
"You looks beautiful, Miss," Tippy exclaimed, before conjuring a long mirror and shoving the redhead in front of it. "Will Miss let Tippy do her hair? Please, Miss?"
"Umm," Ophelia's mind was running quickly now and she was quite confused. Why in Merlin's name is the Dark Lord's house-elf dressing me and asking to do my hair? This makes no sense. I'm a Half-blood. A Potter, at that. Bloody hell..."I suppose. If you want to, that is..."
Slowly, Ophelia lowered herself to the wooden floor, allowing the house-elf to begin brushing and adjusting her hair. The small being was rambling on about something, brushing through her thick wavy locks and braiding a few small strands, but the witch's mind was elsewhere. She vaguely watched the elf pull up her long red hair into a half-up hairstyle.
She found herself in a daze, and she did not know how much time had passed before she heard the bathroom door open. The heavy door swung open and Ophelia watched in the mirror as Lord Voldemort stepped back into the room. His hair was made slightly wavy once more by the water soaking it, falling onto his molded face. He leaned against the doorway to the bathroom, seemingly watching her, but she simply examined him in return. He wore nothing but a towel around his waist, water dripped down his bare toned stomach, lower and lower until they reached that blasted towel. Ophelia found herself captivated by each droplet.
The mirror in front of her disappeared. She snapped out of her trance when Tilly declared, very proudly, "All finished Miss! Yous is very pretty Miss!" Then, she turned to the Dark Lord and continued, "I will be right back with your breakfast, Master. Will yous be taking it here with the Miss? Or in the Dining room?"
"In the Dining Room Tilly. Both of us." The small house-elf disapparated once more with a pop.
Ophelia slowly got to her feet and turned to the dark wizard behind her. He was still leaning against the bathroom doorway, watching her.
"Come," he ordered her, walking to the large ornate door and holding it open for her. She would have considered it sweet if anyone else had done it, in any other situation. But, no. This was Lord Voldemort.
Still, she walked quickly past him and into the dark hallway, watching as he shut the door walked in front of her once more. She followed his fast pace, nearly having to jog to keep up with the tall wizard. They passed several doorways but Ophelia was not able to see most of the area that they passed. She glared at the back of his head and nearly tripped as they turned a corner and began to descend down a great lengthy stairway. The house seemed to be spacious and large; Most of its ceilings were high and skillfully carved. It was clearly a large victorian home, but the decor caused the place to seem foreboding. Surprisingly, she didn't mind and thought it beautiful.
So caught in her hast to keep up with him and survey her prison, she did not notice him stop and promptly ran into his back. Her bare feet stumbled back swiftly landing on her bum with a humph. Looking up, she was met with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms.
"I would suggest you watch where you are going, Miss Potter." Voldemort chasted her lightly, the damning smirk covering his mouth once more.
"Well, perhaps I should suggest that you slow down, sir." She shot back as she pushed herself to her feet, not once breaking his stare. As she stood in front of him, she glared directly back into those monstrous red eyes. Only, when she saw them now, she could see small specks of brown within them. How odd, she thought. The Dark Lord, however, simply continued to look amused by her attempt. Chuckling, he opened the large ornate door that they stood in front of, making a gesture for her to enter first.
Rolling her eyes, she stepped into the room. It was a Dining Room, just as Tilly had said. There was a lengthy elegant table at the center of the room, and long ceiling to floor windows on one side. The windows showed the beautiful winter hills of England, a few mountains in the distance. A chandelier much more modest than the Malfoy's hung above the table and a few candles were lit on artisanal mounts on the wall. At the end of the table, two plates were set out. Voldemort moved past her, towards the set plates, sitting at the high end of the table.
Ever the narcissistic overlord isn't he, she thought as she made her way to the seat beside him. As she finally reached the seat to his right, it pulled itself back in front of her. Glancing from the chair to the Dark Lord, she sighed and took her seat, allowing him to push her seat back in. Silently, she began to ponder how he used magic with such ease. It pained her to admit she was jealous of him, but honestly, she was dumbfounded. Of course, she had read about the ability of more advanced and mature mages to be able to do small spells without words or wand, but he was different. She had seen him use the Cuciartus curse just days ago without a-
"Are you going to eat, or must I tell Tilly you dislike her food?"
She thought for a moment to glare at him once more, or even snap a reply, but decided to simply eat a bit. Tilly's food was delicious and it was not long before she was full. She lifted her eyes from her plate and noticed the Dark Lord was still seated beside her, but he was reading some sort of paper. -
"What do you want with me?"
Her voice rang clear and his head slowly raised to look at her once more. After a moment, he seemed to decide something and tilted his head slightly.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, little witch. I always take care of my things."
"No," She snapped, narrowing her eyes. "I'm not yours. You cannot own a person. Why am I here? I'm not stupid, I know that if I am not dead then I must be here for something."
"I do own you, darling. You are mine."
"That wasn't the question."
"You, little phoenix, are here to help me win the public appeal. It seems wizards these days don't take as kindly to a little force as they did the first time I took over, so I shall need to change my tactic, and besides a little romance always softens up witches. Your job is to do as I say, understand?"
Ophelia furrowed her brows. "And why should I do that? I am not stupid enough to simply play along in your little game to help you kill my brother. I refuse."
"You'll do it, darling," he whispered dangerously as he leaned closer to her. "Because if you don't I will personally round up each of your little friends from the Order and at Hogwarts and make you watch them suffer until their end. And believe me, dear, it will not be so quick and civil as a simple curse."
The redhead gaped, furiously. How dare he threaten her friends? The nerve of this absolute bastard. She bit her tongue a moment and closed her eyes, allowing herself to process the information before she just ran her mouth. It was a simple choice really, her friends, or her pride? While her honor meant quite a bit to her, her friends meant more. If she had to play along for a bit, so be it. SHe would make the best out of this situation and try to contact them as soon as possible. But what will Harry say?
Shaking away that strand of thoughts, she opened her eyes and glared fiercely at the Dark Lord. He was still leaned into her and smirking, his arm draped lazily on the table. "Alright. I'll do it. But, you must swear not to hurt them."
"My, my, you Gryffindors never cease to amaze me with your incredibly idiotic sacrificial tendencies. Honestly, I could order you to cut your hand off and you would do it in order to protect those you 'love'."
"Caring for people is not idiotic. Now swear it."
Eyeing her once more, he drew his wand and she noticed that he held it as if it was the most valuable thing in the world. "I do so swear not to purposefully harm the friends of Ophelia Potter so long as she does as I say. I swear this on my magic."
There was a small pulsing glow from the tip of his wand and it was done. Ophelia let out a small sigh as she realized what she had done. She gave this monster exactly what he wanted, and she would have to follow his orders now and help his cause.
Her thoughts were interrupted as he pointed his wand to her now, but before she could comment, she felt something cover her feet and neck. Looking down, she now donned a string of pretty white pearls and some classic black heels, they matched the outfit and she returned her emerald gaze to his. "What's this?"
"We have an interview in a quarter-hour, and I cannot have my fiance walking around without shoes, can I?"
Her eyebrows rose and before she could question him, he got up and began to walk from the room. Quickly, she jumped up to follow him, her unaccustomed feet wobbling slightly in the black heels. "What do you mean? I'm not ready for an Interview! You've hardly told me what part I must play in this nonsense."
The witch followed him throughout the maze of a house, questioning him to no avail. She trailed behind him once more before he turned dramatically to her at a set of overly large doors. She put her hands on her hips and noted the windows on each side of the doors and a bit of movement outside.
"You, little witch, need only play along and say whatever pops into that pretty head of yours."
As she prepared her retort, he flung the doos open. Standing behind them was non-other than Rita Skeeter, and behind her two young interns not much older than herself. The blonde woman seemed to be just as displeased to see Ophelia as she was. Ophelia felt the Dark Lord slip his arm around her waist and pull her closer to him. She would never admit to herself that she found the shocked expression on Skeeter's face pleasing, nor that the body pressed against her side seemed to be delightfully warm. Pulling herself together, she pulled her face into a sweet-looking smile and listened as her 'fiance' welcomed the crew inside.
They walked altogether silently through and behind the house, finding themselves in the garden, where a table with comfortable looking chairs was waiting. They sat, the two younger witches standing behind the blonde, one with a quill and one with a camera. But, it did not escape her notice that Voldemort and herself were sitting in slightly more ornate seats than Skeeter. Ever the boaster this man is.
In her seat, she could see the backside of the Manor. The place was an incredibly large victorian Tudor house that looked straight out of the 18th century. It was a darker grey color and seemed to emit waves of regality. Recognizing the garden to be the same one that she had admired earlier, she instantly began to try to work out which window she had looked out of.
Smile.
She jumped, as the deep rustic voice was heard in her head. It was Voldemort's voice, but he had not moved in the slightest. He had spoken to her telepathically. Interesting...
Ophelia straightened herself nonetheless and siled once more.
And, so the interview commenced. All in all, it was quite boring for the redhead. She simply sat there in the chair as Skeeter flirted with her 'fiance' and asked him questions. SHe asked Ophelia questions as well, but less important ones, some to do with her dress and hair and any others Voldemort simply filled in for her in her head. She did as she was supposed to, saying what he wanted, and all the while her hatred for Rita Skeeter grew.
The woman seemed to thrive on making Ophelia's temper flair, from her hair to her hideous overbearing perfume she could not stand the bitch. Should've kept her in that damn jar...
"Now, Miss Potter, I was wondering if you could tell the readers a bit about how your brother is taking to this new rela-"
The reporter was cut off by Ophelia's small cry, not loud, but enough to make the witch shut up. She then took his heel and quickly made as if to step and squash a small bug on the ground beside her. Making sure to twist her foot as she looked back at Skeeter, she smiled sweetly. "So sorry, ma'am, a little beetle was quite annoying me. Nasty little things, aren't they?"
She took pride in the shudder that ran through SKeeter's body as she mentioned her dirty little secret. The reporter stumbled a bit before continuing.
"Just one final question for you sweetheart and then I think we are good." The blonde witch turned to her and plastered a wide fake smile on her face. Ophelia matched it with her own.
"Of course."
"Will you please tell the readers at home how you knew that you loved him? Give us your thoughts dear."
For the first time, his voice did not come into her head with the answer, and she knew why. He knew nothing of love, not really, and clearly, he hadn't expected this question. Ophelia sighed and thought to herself for a moment, doing her best to come up with a decent answer.
"Well, Rita, I think it started when we were away for each other and all I could think about was...him. About how he is the kind of reckless that should have sent me running but I sort of knew that I wouldn't get far. Anyways, he was standing in front of me just close enough to touch, close enough to pray he couldn't see what I was thinking of. And I realized that I would never want it any other way, I never want to be away from him. You know?"
It seemed that all of her reading romance novels had paid off because both of the witches behind the reporter seemed to be about to drool at her words. The powerful wizard beside her seemed to be shocked as well and she heard a whisper of a compliment in her head for it.
"Well, I do believe that we are all done, my lord. We just need a picture of the happy couple of course."
The photographer witch waltzed forward and began instructing them as to where to stand, urging them to stand closer and smile. After a few shots, she called out to them for a kiss and Ophelia felt her blood run cold. She had only ever kissed Cedric and she was quite unhappy with that experience as a whole and was opposed to adding onto that. So, thinking quickly, she leaned up to Voldemort's smooth cheek and pressed her lips to it, laying her hand across his chest as she did so. She heard the snap of the camera and pulled away to see his annoyingly perfect eyebrow lifted up.
Before she knew it, Ophelia was back in the bedroom, reading an odd tome on ancient runes as she laid on the floor. Voldemort had left her with very few words after the awkward kiss. As she climbed into the bed later, she mulled over his words one last time: 'You did very well today, little phoenix, and all good girls get rewards...'
I know it's been absolutely forever since I've updated, forgive me, guys! I will be updating more frequently now lol, so sorry for that. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and yes I know there are a few things that should be fixed, but I will do that tomorrow 11-27, so I guess bye for now
-ijustlovelove