Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.
I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.
This series is rated 'M' for a reason-there is a brief mention of hallucinogens use.
Thank you all for the wonderful reviews you've all been dropping for me. I appreciate it. It keeps me motivated to write and update on this series of mine-it lets me know people are interested and want to see what happens. Please review if you can, let me know what you all think! Thanks again!
November 8, 1948
A young woman laid in a queen sized bed, awake with one arm stretched out across her forehead and the arm lying flat by her side. She felt exhausted: emotional and mentally from the moment she woke up but she was willing to ignore the state of her well being and she was sure it was nothing. You're still tired, she told herself.
Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling as she snuggled deeper into her bed and blankets; she could hear the crackling of the fireplace from the living room even with her door closed.
That's how quiet it was early in the morning. Or was it midnoon? The young woman lifted her arm off her forehead to look at the time. A look of irritation came to her features when she realized that her watch was set on New Orleans' time zone.
She knew damn good and well from what little rays of sunshine that peaked through her bedroom window it couldn't have been two in the morning.
While Ophelia wasn't the best at continually updating her watch on whatever timezone she was in; she'd gotten better at it or at least she thought she was until today.
"I was all packed and ready for Mexico." Ophelia muttered as she finally got out of bed to get dressed. Initially, she was calm as she picked an outfit for the day out but slowly it chipped with every article of clothing she touched that didn't scream 'Mexico' but instead yelled 'Albania'.
She sighed as she got pulled a canary yellow long sleeved collar dress out her suitcase. An angry string of cuss words came out of her mouth as she covered her legs with beige stockings. By the time it came to putting on her brown heeled oxfords on her feet; Ophelia was stomping so hard into the floorboards it almost sounded like she was trying to tap dance.
Her emotions kept bouncing from disappointment, resignation of that initial disappointment, to grievance, and settle to mild curiosity. Then the emotions would repeat all over again until each one felt weaker and weaker than the first time Ophelia felt it. It took her roughly fifteen minutes to gather enough control of her feelings to step outside of her room and figure out how the rest of the day would go.
Ophelia stepped out of her room, no sign of Tom in the living room."Good morn-."
"It's late afternoon." A condescending voice rang from the kitchen; at a small table Tom was examining a locket but as he heard the sounds of Ophelia approaching he put the locket around his neck and tucked it into his button up shirt. The black suit vest and grey windsor tie Tom wore hid the outline of Slytherin's locket in a casual but discreet enough manner.
Tom stood up from the table, his hands went into the front pockets of the black slacks he wore; he needed to be sure Ophelia didn't suspect anything of him. "Are you still willing to help me?"
He watched as Ophelia stopped in the middle of the kitchen archway; her body leaned against it and look that was neither enthusiastic nor apathetic on her face.
"I said I would, didn't I?" The subtle feeling of disappointment bubbled in Ophelia's veins for half of a second before she extinguished it by taking a deep breath in and letting it out. She wanted so badly to be in Mexico! Don't be selfish, Ophelia. You're lucky you grew up knowing you had a family-at least let Tom try and have that.
The half-blooded witch pulled out a cigarette from the little pocket of her dress, once again using her wand to light the tobacco filled roll. "So," Ophelia placed the cigarette in between her lips, sucked through it, and blew out three small rings of smoke. "You're sure St. Wool's is correct when they say you're family is originally from Albania?"
"Yes." Tom lied as he turned his head away from the smoke that came too close to his face. "My mother fled the country and went to London in hopes of a better life, but she became deathly ill and left me in the orphanage before she passed."
Ophelia Darwin was never an orphan, she'd never passed by an orphanage a day in her life so to say she didn't understand how orphanages worked would be completely true. There was a tiny, cold, and fretful feeling that crawled on her skin, causing goosebumps to breakout all over her as she took Tom's words in.
"Did they give you a surname?" Ophelia asked. "Your mum's surname or your father's?"
"Bardhi." Tom lied without any guilt inflicting his conscience. "That's all I know."
She wasn't by any means clairvoyant or too great at handling a situation with Tom involved, but something with the whole situation seemed...I can't think of a word. Ophelia frowned as she and Tom locked eyes; she continued to inhale air through the filter of a tobacco roll and exhale smoke into the kitchen. Maybe because you've known he's always been an orphan...The thought he might have a family somewhere is...It seems...It feels...Unexpected?
"Are you quite finish smoking that foul thing?" Tom had to hold back his cough from the smoke irritating his senses. "Fuck, Ophelia. You travel wherever you please but you pick up the most uncultured and common habit?"
"I smoke peyote when I visit Colorado sometimes." Ophelia mused with a hidden smirk as more smoke gently flowed out of her mouth. "It kills me nearly every time but the high is fun before the inevitable crash."
A dirty look came on Tom's face as more smoke hit his face. Tom stood in front Ophelia, one hand placed on the wall by her head, with his free hand he plucked the cigarette out of Ophelia's hold. The heir of Slytherin placed the cigarette in between his lips and took a drag from it; he removed the cigarette, tossed it down to floorboard, and stomped it out with his foot. With a slightly opened mouth-he blew all the smoke he inhaled into the half-blooded witch's face.
Ophelia tried to move her head out of the cloud of smoke but Tom grabbed her chin and held it firmly; he moved his face closer to the green eyed brunette and finished blowing smoke in her face.
In a quick moment, Tom placed a kiss on Ophelia's cheek before pulling away. She brought a hand up to where he placed his lips on her.
"It's not too fun having smoke blown in your face, is it?" Tom stated; his hand still on Ophelia's chin.
Ophelia frowned at Tom; she placed a free hand on Tom's left shoulder and left it there. She wanted to say something scandalous; something that would irk him and get under his skin but she decided against it. "If you don't like me smoking me-you can ask me not to smoke around you." Her voice was steady and it had some degree of compromise as she spoke.
"We're adu-." She stopped in the middle of her sentence. The word 'adults' wasn't ominous by any means but a brief feeling of sudden displeasure filled Ophelia.
Shake it off, Ophelia told herself. Stop being so...off today.
"We're grown-ups now, Tom." The former Hufflepuff took up a diplomatic sounding tone. "We should be able , with how long we've known each other, to navigate a conversation and reach a compromise between us."
A clap of deep laughter echoed through the cottage, due to his laughter Tom ended up leaning closer to the female who trapped by his was a genuine sound of amusement as he laughs went on.
I don't compromise. The heir thought to himself as his laughter began to die down.
Ophelia's shoulder slumped down not in defeat but due to shock and confusion. Firstly, she probably only heard Tom give a real laugh maybe once-maybe-she wasn't sure. Secondly, she didn't know what was so funny about what she said.
Albania wasn't as dingy as neither Tom nor Ophelia expected. The Dolohov cottage was roughly a mile or so away from the town Tom swore up and down St. Wool's Orphanage stated his 'biological family' was from. Truth be told the Grey Lady was kind enough (after being charmed over by him) to point Tom to the direction of Vermosh, Albania.
Somewhere in the forests of Vermosh, hid Ravenclaw's diadem. Tom was going to find it hopefully before the month was out, if not sooner. Hopefully sooner, Tom thought to himself as he and Ophelia strolled around town.
Ophelia wasted no time as soon as they got to town. Judging from what little English she heard around the town of Vermosh, she'd have a language barrier to break down first.
Unfortunately...Ophelia shot a side glance at Tom. It's a spell, he'd call primitive. Equally as unfortunate as Tom calling a spell that was wildly useful spell 'primitive'...Ophelia was going to need at least one hair from a local who spoke Albanian and a hair from Tom. She could easily pluck her own hair for the spell to work but that wasn't really the issue. Why couldn't I ever at one point, asked Peter's grandparents to teach me Albanian? Margo even knew how to speak it!
Ophelia focused her sights towards what looked like an outdoor marketplace. Okay...I need something I can work with. She ventured closer to the stalls and tables laid out with different types of meats, fishes, cheese, fruit and surprisingly enough: art. Ophelia needed to find a vendor whose little market set up would allow her to easily reach over and pluck some hair of the person.
At the end of the row of stalls and tables, an older woman with powder white, long hair sat on a wooden chair. There were buckets of red poppies, white carnations, roses, golden lilies, and lavenders surrounding the old woman in the shape of a circle around her chair. Perfect!
"Have you notice our first issue?" Ophelia whispered to Tom as she smiled and waved politely to some of the townsfolk who passed her by.
"We speak English while they do not." Tom commented, he set his eyes forwards and refused to make nice and exchange meaningless greetings to the people who walked around him.
"Yes and I have a remedy for that." Ophelia grabbed Tom's wrist and pulled out of the center of the walking path and close to the side of a building wall. "See the old lady selling flowers?"
Hard not to notice her, Ophelia. Tom nodded his head and leaned against the wall.
"Okay-good." Ophelia began to twirl her hair with her fingers. "Do you have money-not like galleons or quid but Albania currency?"
Tom didn't like that line of questioning too much. "Yes. Why?" He narrowed his eyes at the brunette, a hard glare on his face.
"I need you to buy flowers from the nice old woman," The half-blooded witch began. "I need you to get close to her, at least enough to where you could pick a stray hair off her shoulders or coat. A long piece too, please?"
What in the actual fuck? Tom wasn't too sure he'd heard right and even if he did, what in Merlin's name possessed Ophelia to travel to places where using hair from a stranger was for something that wasn't Polyjuice potion? "What kind of uncivilized, lost world spell-."
"I need the hair, Tom." Ophelia sighed. "I need the hair of someone from here who speaks the language. I cannot do the spell without the hair and if I cannot do the spell-we cannot help you find your family if we can't speak Albanian. Also, I think it would look more natural if you went over and bought flowers from her and gently touch the old woman's shoulder than if I do it...Plus the money is yours..."
A part of her wanted to add that she'd learn the spell in Japan- which while it was recovering from the war, Japan was still very civilized and the witches and wizards she met were kind to her . Ophelia kept that to herself though-she was sure Tom didn't give a rat's arse about that.
Tom pulled out one peach colored banknote out of his trouser pockets; Dolohov really had everything covered in regards to making Tom's stay in Albania comfortable. The brown of Tom's eyes bore down into the pale green of Ophelia's eyes. There was no frown or anything close to malice on Tom's features as a quiet and calm moment happened between him and the half-blooded witch.
He could have started a fight and make a big fuss out of him having to spend money on some flowers that he could get for free in a meadow but an atomically small part of Tom's conscience was willing to do what she asked of him.
That and he was a slave to his own motives and Ophelia's spell was his (not theirs) best bet at the time being.
"Stay here." Tom barked at her. He took one good look at the brunette before he stepped away towards the directions of the flowers.
The image of Ophelia Darwin with her chocolate brown hair lazily hanging down her shoulders; her back against the wall and with her hands tucked into the pockets of her yellow dress was a sight that would have made any young man fall in love with her upon first glance. Tom merely frowned at the sight of her as his guts twisted in a way that made him suddenly feel vexed with Ophelia.
What Tom Riddle needed was easy enough to obtain and the process was rather mundane. The older woman smiled at him as she gently took the Albania banknote out of the young man's hands and tucked it away into the pocket of her coat.
"A po merrni lule për atë zonjë të re?" (Are you buying flowers for that young lady?) The old lady's voice was raspy yet soft. She leaned over to the side to get a better look at Ophelia, the bright color of young woman's dress was hard to miss. The old woman reached for a bucket and pulled out a bundle of seven golden lilies. "Këtu, do t'i pëlqejë këta." (Here, she'll like these ones.)
Tom went to go grab the golden lilies; his eyes caught a glimpse of a stray white hair on the sleeve of the older woman's coat. He smiled as he grabbed the stray hair and the flowers.
As Tom turned around, flowers and stray piece of hair in his possession-there was a cocky expression on his face.
Ophelia didn't say anything as she gently pulled the hair out of Tom's hold; she admired the bundle of golden lilies but only for a second as she had to get to work on that the language spell. She looked over their surroundings, "We need to go somewhere empty and quiet. I won't do the spell out in the open."
An image of building with red roofing flashed in Tom's mind. "I know a place that could work."
The heir of Slytherin, when in the muggle world was brought up in two places: St. Wool's orphanage and the Catholic church. He didn't care for either St. Wools or the church, but Tom remembered how empty almost all churches seemed on the weekdays and in the afternoon.
The Darwin family never was a family that indulge in religion. Not because Gregory or Ben thought God was an abstract and made up concept, but because Wendy believed weekends were for sleeping in and not spending the mornings of Sunday in a crowded church with members of a community she wasn't sure she liked.
Ophelia only had one blurred memory of being in a church when she was roughly eight years old and that was all she had until the moment Tom Riddle led her to this particular church.
"Get down from there." Tom stood at the bottom step of church altar as his traveling companion went about touching a statue of Jesus Christ and looking through the priest's personal Bible.
Ophelia even sat in the Presider's Chair,and amused herself by waving oh-so-ladylike to a crowd of invisible church attendees while bundle of golden lilies rested in her lap. She started hum 'God Save the King'.
Alright, she's had her moment of amusement. Tom rolled his eyes at the female. "Can we continue on with what we're originally here for?" He phrased it as a question but the witch in his presence knew better.
Ophelia got up from the Presider's Chair; hastily picking the flowers up from her lap as she walked down to meet Tom at the bottom of the altar. "Yes, sorry."
The handsome man took the flowers away from Ophelia as soon as she stood directly in front of him-for the sake that she didn't get distracted again.
Tom watched as Ophelia snapped the white hair from the older stranger in half; she handed one piece for him to hold in his free hand and kept one for herself. Ophelia pulled out one little piece of hair off her head as before she started to intertwine brown hair and white hair together.
A look of mild disgust came to Tom's face when she put the hair in her mouth and heard her swallow. Ophelia then drew her wand out and pointed it to the center of her throat.
Tom wasn't too sure as to what Ophelia said, but it didn't sound like a spell that had Latin roots or any type of language roots he was familiar with. A white light transferred from the tip of Ophelia's wand and buried itself into her skin.
"Your turn." Ophelia let out a little cough, no doubt from swallowing a hair.
"Yes, I know." Tom handed the golden lilies back to Ophelia to hold; he plucked a thread of hair of his head and began to twist it with the stranger's hair; without stalling he placed the hair in his mouth and swallowed as well.
Ophelia pressed her wand gently on Tom''s throat and said the spell once more. He still wasn't able to catch words of the spell. Ophelia either casted it too fast and Tom didn't know if that was the point or she said the spell fast to purposefully butcher his chances of getting shit done.
"There." The brunette removed her wand away from Tom's throat and tucking it into her pocket. "It's been done."
For your sake, I hope this spell works. A look of doubt was plastered on Tom's face as he gave the bouquet of golden lilies back to the young witch.
He said nothing but the look of incredibly obvious doubt on Tom's face told Ophelia enough.
"We can go back to marketplace, Tom." There was a slight trace of hurt in her voice and face-not that it mattered. "If you're unsure of the spell, that is." Ophelia then added, "Besides, we need to go back to town and see if anyone knows about the Bardhi-er-your family."
She's already served her purpose for the first day. A voice in Tom's head went off. If you ask the townsfolk about their forest and if Ophelia asks about a family here that most likely doesn't even exist-this could work against you.
Then came up another more notable thought in his head; a more sincere one. You should probably let her off on her own too...Let her go explore like she normally would when she travels to places she actually likes.
"I can handle the rest on my own, Ophelia." The handsome man tried to bestow a gesture of (some) appreciation onto Ophelia by gently caressing the left side of her face. "Why don't you go exploring for a bit?"
Those words...Everything Tom had said, it rubbed Ophelia the wrong way. She felt mixed up all over again but on top of disappointment, resignation of said disappointment, grievance, and curiosity-be sure to add a strong dose of indignation to the rest of those emotional ingredients and one would find exactly how bitter Ophelia was in that moment.
Excuse me? Ophelia moved her face away from Tom's hand. "I thought you said you wanted me to help you find your family? That's why I am here for right, Tom?"
"You helped me by using that spell, and if it works, then you've done your job." Tom did try to sound reasonable, but the way and how he said that, phrased it as if she didn't actually do anything to even help him. Who knows if that was intentional or not.
He tried to caress Ophelia's face again. "Besides," He lied, "This is a very personal matter, I should go at this alone for today. You can help me tomorrow if I cannot find any information."
Ophelia felt her body grow hot from a steady sense of pure hurt. It started in her toes, traveled up to her hands, up to her chest, and finally to her eyes where they burned and threaten to leak a few tears. Are you fucking serious? Are you fucking kidding me?
She didn't necessarily understand why her whole sense of being was so out of whack than usual about Tom dismissing her. Sure in the past it stung and it cut deep into what self-esteem and ego she had then.
However this sent Ophelia went into a completely different realm of insecurities, only difference now was she was more vocal about it.
"It is a personal matter you asked me to help you with, Tom." Ophelia moved her face away from Tom. "You said you wanted my help to find your fucking family! I am here, right here, Tom." She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself-it only brought clarity to all the negative emotions that festered in her and it all came out in a yell. "I was going to Mexico! I had my plans sorted for the month!" Ophelia shoved the bundle of golden lilies into Tom's chest, not caring if he held them in his arms or if he was going to let them drop to the church floors.
A heated silence filled between the two magic users. Just Tom Riddle and Ophelia Darwin in a church, standing in front of an altar with bruised flowers in between them.
Tom was quiet because he'd never actually seen an outburst on such a heated level from Ophelia. He found it intriguing to say the least yet he found it infuriating to say the most.
While Ophelia was quiet because she wasn't sure what else would fly out of her mouth at the moment. She was a dangerous concoction of strong emotions and what if she said something she could never take back?
"I didn't go though..." Ophelia took three steps away from Tom; the bouquet fell. "I didn't go to Mexico, Tom. I'm not day drinking, I'm not off running on a beach, I'm not even learning brujeria like I wanted to." She sat herself down on one of the many empty church pews; her eyes glued on anything that wasn't Tom. "I am here with you."
Your words really mean nothing Ophelia. Tom watched the witch as she cradled her face in her hands. You didn't get a choice because you don't seem to make the right ones! Like now, you couldn't smile and walk away? You couldn't roam around and frolic in some meadow or write letters to your family back home-you couldn't make the right choice? You don't know how, can you?
In one quick motion, Tom picked the golden lilies off the floor and walked over to Ophelia. He tossed the flowers with a rather forced effort so they landed right by her as she sat.
"You're obviously overwhelmed." Tom tried to keep the sound of his own irritation out of the tone he spoke to Ophelia with. He had to remain in control. If he lost his control over his own body-he'd lose control over the situation. "You're upset because you didn't get what you expected and you're placing that all on me."
The heir of Slytherin almost showed genuine sincerity when he saw how irregular the witch's breathing was by the rise and fall of her shoulders. "Ophelia go back to cottage, get some rest, eat if you want."
Ophelia's hands was still covering her face. There was just something, a detail she didn't remember or a part of a conversation she missed with him and it drove her up the wall. True, she'd help Tom in the past but none of those times did she feel so fucking abysmal or empty or demented over the ordeal.
Tom's eyes bore intently on her skin. "I'll walk you back if need be."
"No." The witch stood up gently and smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress; she clutched the flowers as she got ready to leave. You're tired, Ophelia. Remember? You even woke up in a tired and bad mood. "You're right, Tom. I need to rest." The haze of disgruntlement slowly began to clear away in her mind. "Go do what you need to, if you need me then you need me. If you don't then you don't."
In a clumsy type of manner, she grabbed Tom's hand and gave it a firm squeeze before letting go. "See you."
Tom didn't follow her and for that she was happy.
Ophelia Mae Darwin walked off roughly two fifths of the way back to the Dolohov cottage before she froze in her path. She stopped to admire the tall trees and how perfectly the rays of the sun poked through the leaves and branches. There a chill in the November air but even with a small bit of sun-Ophelia felt calm.
"Well?" A raspy voice called out from behind her.
Ophelia let out a yelp of surprise and spun around to see who suddenly appeared in the middle of her walk back to the cottage. "Um-hello?" She wasn't expecting the older woman from the marketplace in the middle of the path. "How do you do?"
"Are you going to go into the woods or not?" The older woman skipped greeting Ophelia back. "Because if you are, I need help pulling this." She gestured to a wooden wagon that held empty buckets.
"I have to go back to-."
"Alright, hurry up." The older woman did not care to hear the rest of the younger woman's sentence. "I want to get home at a reasonable time for dinner. Stay close by-absolutely no straying off." The white hair woman left her wooden wagon behind and began to trek into the forest.
Ophelia watched as the older woman placed her hand on a trunk of a tree before she entered the forest. The woman's mouth moved but Ophelia wasn't close enough to hear what was being said.
Old woman...lives in forest, alone more than likely...spoke to a tree...Oh why not, what's the worst thing to happen? You didn't have anything else planned did you? Ophelia grabbed the handle for the wooden wagon, tossed the flower's Tom bought into one of the empty buckets and started to follow after the old woman.
"Also, I am going to need you to pull some carrots out of the garden." The old lady said as she finally heard footsteps follow through behind her. "I think I'll make carrot cake."
"How many carrots do you want?" Ophelia went along with it. So far this was the most 'vacation-esque' feeling thing the day granted her.
"Enough for two people." The old woman then went on to say. "You know you're very rude for not introducing yourself or giving a name."
"Ophelia." The brunette witch called out as she continued to tug the wagon along through dirt, rocks, and twigs on the forest floor.
"Tsk." The woman shook her head and threw a hand up in the air. "Such a tragic name. Ever read the book?"
"No." Ophelia replied back with honest. "I tried to but I didn't never got past the few three pages."
"I couldn't get into the book my namesake was pulled out of." The old woman explained. "A Midsummer Night's Dream-Hermia."
"Oh." Ophelia felt her brow furrow. Didn't she have to explain that book to Margo once? Was it possible for such a little insignificant thing as a book to come full circle in a weird way in her life?
"That means my name is Hermia in case you're a bit slow."
"Er, no." Ophelia had to admire a the woman's ornery mannerisms. "I got that part."
The language spell worked better than the heir of Slytherin predicted.
What he'd gathered was the spell did something to where the person under the spell heard a certain type of dialect-they'd hear and speak in their native tongue and not in that certain dialect. It didn't stop the Albanian townsfolk from communicating with Tom, no. He figured when he spoke in English-the words must have been translated into Albanian and vice versa.
Onto the important stuff now that is taken care of.
Tom first looked for any information about the exact location of Ravenclaw's diadem in a small library, none of the books in regards to Vermosh's history or geography said anything that stood out to him.
Then he took to asking in what he supposed was considered a hunting shop. The shop owner and the two other men in the shop could only tell him what parts of the woods were good for hunting and which parts were safe to hike with family and friends.
Even with how so far he didn't turn up with any results, it was crucial he remained charming and polite while holding the facade of being a 'scholar' interesting in the history of all countries in Europe.
The heir of Slytherin had to call it quits for the day when he entered a pub and no one sober or drunk could tell him anything. There were no rumors about a forest being enchanted, having treasures buried in it, or even being haunted. He looked over his shoulders as he walked into an empty alleyway. Once he was sure he was alone a loud a loud crack filled the empty air; he apparated back to the cottage.
Save for perhaps the enchanted fireplace, the cottage was essentially veiled by shadows of black.
The lights are all out,Tom noted as stood in the poorly light living room. He drew his wand out and without a word coming out of his mouth the lamps in the living room went on. Everything looked perfect, untouched. Besides him standing in the living room, the cottage felt like it lacked life.
Tom peered into the kitchen area, for a very brief moment a look of concern was on his face before it disappeared just as quickly as it came. There were no signs that the kitchen had been used to cook anything. He then looked in the pantry-no bread, biscuits, or even canned soups had been touched.
"Ophelia?" Tom loosened the tie on his neck. No answer...Maybe she's asleep. There were no qualms in the heir of Slytherin's mind as he walked to the former Hufflepuff's bedroom and opened the door. He turned the light switch in her bedroom on.
For the first time in the handsome young man's life, he felt his heart dropped out of its protected cavity down to the ground. A sense of dismay radiated through his whole body and state of being.
Ophelia's bed was empty.
Check your room. He cleared his throat and tried to rationalize as to why she's wasn't in her room. Maybe she fell asleep in your room.
Tom backed away from her empty bedroom and went over to his bedroom."I don't find this amusing." He swung the door open. "Ophelia."
What if she ran away? What if she stole from you?...Would she?...Did she…? Tom stepped deeper into his room and pointed his wand at a painting that hung over the dresser. "Revelio."
The painting over the dresser transformed into a safe that was embedded into the wall. With another flash from his wand, the door to the safe swayed open.
Two bags of floo powder-unused and still completely full. Tom noted before turning his attention to other object in there. Albanian currency, all accounted for and untouched as well.
There was no trace of her in his room either.
The dismay rooted in him was turning over to panic; Tom stomped over to the office. He nearly pushed the door down trying to open it; there was a small thread of hope in his system as the light switch went up to reveal the contents of the office.
"Fuck!" Tom ran a hand through his hair when he didn't find the other human being who was supposed to take up space in the cottage.
Ophelia Darwin wasn't anywhere to be found.