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.
First of all, I am sorry for the unbelievably late update for the series. Long story short, I was unhappy the fist 3 times I wrote this chapter and the fourth and final time I wrote it, I liked it much better. Sorry to all you might have been waiting. There is a sloppy poem in this chapter so let's just go along with it-I know it is corny and all that but oh well. If there are any errors in this chapter let me know and I will try to fix it. I want to also imply that Ophelia does not believe that the visions she sees during her peyote trip; but she does believe that Tom has been horrible and truly horrible.
Please leave a review if you can, I would appreciate any input good, bad, or in between. Thank you for reading this series!
November 24, 1948
"What do you mean they gave her poison?"
"According to my inside source in St. Mungo's some witch from America gave her poison."
Tom looked with disbelief at Nott. Either the idiot didn't understand the information relayed to him by one of the healers assigned to Ophelia or Nott had overheard a rumour chatted about through the halls of St. Mungo's and decided that that was good enough instead of talking to the healers.
Or could it all be chalked up to primitive magic?
Without missing a beat, Avery soon added to the conversation. "I heard they performed an exorcism because they think there is a demon trying to take Darwin over."
Nope, for sure, the wizards around the heir of Slytherin were merely repeating juicy gossip that had been fluttering around.
Malfoy cleared his throat and decided to enter in the conversation before anyone could make Lord Voldemort's mood go from irritable to down right on a rampage. "Perhaps, my Lord, take this as a sign to check on Miss Darwin's progress?" Abraxas was gracefully able to leave out the part of a rumour he himself heard as well; something about an American auror being posted by Ophelia's bedside.
Tom only shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will not go into that damned place until I get a notice that she is somewhat responsive." He was tired; he spent a good portion of the past few days hiding any horcruxes in his possession. "Any news bubbling around in the ministry?"
"Yes." Rosier answered without hesitation. "Apparently, the ministry is taking steps to make sure that muggle born students have more resources in order to focus more on the magical education."
"Oh, of course." Tom scoffed. There was a bitterness in his voice as he thought with envy how such a program would have helped him out much more with his Hogwart experience. "Give those with dirty blood all the handouts possible and forget about the purebloods who created the foundations of the ministry and that of Hogwarts."
"I'd rather a program where muggle born witches and wizards have to register into a program where a congress of purebloods decide if they are even worthy to practice magic or not." Lestrange added in.
Tom looked over the Lestrange, there was a dark flicker of interest in his eyes. "Lestrange, that must be the smartest thing you've ever said." The heir of Slytherin relaxed and with a cold and empty smile have a small nod of approval. "Please, continue with that thought." Tom had every intention of utilizing that very idea should he ever get the chance to use in the future.
Ophelia knew when she was on a drug induced trip or at the very least her physical body knew. Her palms would sweat profusely, sometimes the back of her teeth would grind together, and as the drugs left her system goosebumps perked all over her skin. She knew the high would end, her body had the organs to process the drugs.
Being on a drug induced trip while detached from a physical body felt like high she couldn't come off of.
One minute she was a spec in the galaxy, a shinning star in the sky; there was a warm rush pulsing through her. Then in the next minute that comfortable warmth turn into an unbearable heat as Ophelia plummeted from the sky; strings of curses words mumbled their way out of the young witch's mouth as she fell, her arms violently flailed about as if there was an invisible rope for her to grab onto.
Even though Ophelia wasn't attached to her physical body, as she landed on her back into the hard ground the memory of pain inched all over her skin and she couldn't breath. All she could see was white, everywhere was just white nothingness.
"Get up, get up, get up, get up." A voice echoed in the wind. It was soft, easy, light. "You have to get up."
Again, an unknown force pulled Ophelia's body off the ground and positioned her properly on her feet.
"I'm over here…." The voice echoed. "Here….here...here...here."
"Where?" Ophelia broke out into a run without a second thought and as she ran, odd colors of purple, black and blue began to swirl in the background around her. "Where is 'here.'?"
The storm of colors that swirled in the background crashed into Ophelia and swept her off to a different part of the realm what was assumed to be a drug induced limbo.
"Stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop!" Ophelia screamed as loudly as she could at the storm of colors that tossed her around finally dropped her down into the dorm room of Hufflepuff house.
The usual and familiar things Ophelia had remembered about her old dorm room were all gone. Not one bed, not even the windows were there-she could only tell it was the Hufflepuff girl's dorm room due to the canary yellow and black flags that hung from the ceiling.
"..I'll cut my soul and place them into things
What do you say to a ring?...
How about I shed everything humanly and external…
Only to hide it in a journal?...
Tell me what you think….Since you'll be my last link…
I hope you know, if I could, I'd infect you with everything toxic…
Then you'd be good enough for my family's locket..."
This wasn't the same voice the half-blooded witch heard earlier. Unlike the first voice this one was deeper and menacing. Ophelia turned around and around trying to find the source of the voice but there was no one but her in the room.
"...In sacred vaults that are kept shut
I will store what is left of me in a cup…
...Don't forget that crown, my dear
Remember it with every tear…
Chills crawled all over Ophelia's skin as the voice dragged on. It didn't sound completely human, whatever the voice's origins was it didn't matter. It was demonic, twisted, evil.
"I have to get out of here." Ophelia whispered as she dropped down on her knees and began to claw at the floorboards.
"...I need another soul to take…
For that is the only way to please the snake…"
A low hissing sound now entered into the room as the deep voice's impromptu poem ended; Ophelia tensed up as the hissing came closer and closer to her; fear bubbled up angrily inside of her as the source of the hissing was now right beside her left ear.
The brunette was expecting a heavy, rough, scaled tail to slither over her shoulder but to her surprise, Ophelia instead felt fingers tangle themselves with methodical familiarity into her hair. Ophelia fixed her pale green eyes down onto the floor; what would she see if she looked up? No way could a voice so sinister belong to a person-it had to be something else.
"You've been gone long enough…" The voice managed to manifest a body for itself and now it knelt beside her in all too familiar and even possessive manner.
"Go away." Ophelia muttered as she inched away from the figure.
"I've remodeled the garden like you said...yellow flowers as far as the eyes can see…" This entity began to rubbed Ophelia's back gently in soothing circles with one hand and used its free hand over Ophelia's left hand on the floor board.
"What fucking garden?" Ophelia felt her face contort with confusion when she saw the hand next hers look too much like a human male's hand.
"Ophelia...come home, it isn't natural for a wife to be so far away from her husband."
Only one wizard immediately came to her mind and without thinking she looked up; hoping to see if this menacing entity was who she thought of.
She never got to see the face of whatever recited that odd poem with nonsense about rings and snakes in it-a flash of blinding light was the only thing to greet her sight. This time, with no surprise on the invisible force intervene once again. What the invisible force was about to do however, was give Ophelia Mae Darwin a rude awakening.
She saw white all over again; snow covered everything around her. "I know this place." There was relief in her statement as Ophelia walked deeper into the Forbidden Forest. Her eyes scanned the surrounding areas around; she saw a silhouette of a man roughly ten yards away. She wasn't alone! Ophelia took off running towards the figure.
"Crucio!"
"Wait...is that…?" Ophelia stopped running toward the figure as soon as she began to recognize the person from the back. "Tom?" The half-blooded witch walked to the wizard she was all too familiar with. The brunette wondered why Tom was dressed in his old Hogwarts uniform, but she was more curious as to what he was looking down at in the snow. "What are you-?"
"Crucio!...Crucio!...Crucio!"
Ophelia screamed bloody murder at the sight. Her physical body from her sixth year of Hogwarts laid in the snow. She didn't feel any pain in her spirit but that sight stuck absolute terror straight to her heart. Ophelia raised a hand to attack Tom for what he had done but it was useless-her hand went right through Tom. "NO! NO!"
"You make me sick...I trusted you!" The Slytherin prefect yelled at the unconscious witch in the snow while her soul watched the whole ordeal with absolute horror in her eyes. "I hate you so much sometimes...Ophelia...But let's face it: you're mine."
"Shut up! Tom! Stop this please! Just shut up!" A sense of violation crept on Ophelia as she saw this version of Tom place an oddly sweet kiss on the body that laid on the snow. "Stop it please!"
"What a monster…" The soft and unthreatening voice from the start of this peyote sponsored trip advised.
"Why am I seeing this! " Ophelia croaked out. "I don't want to see this! Tom...He isn't perfect but…" The former Hufflepuff could not bring herself to finish her sentence. She saw Tom use an Unforgivable Curse on her. "Know what," Ophelia tried to justify everything. "No. This is a drug included trip. Remember? Peyote tea, spirit out of body experience….This isn't real. It's all in your head."
It was all in Ophelia's head, so to speak. Clouded with confusion, greatly tucked away in a deep and unknown corner of the witch's mind through the use of powerful magic.
"You poor thing…" There was remorse, sympathy, and pain from the gentle voice.
"Obliviate."
"Is that it?" Ophelia asked the voice as everything around her started to spin faster and faster until it was a blur and nothing could be identified. She wanted that be it...She wanted that to be the worst of it.
"See for yourself…" Was all that was echoed out before everything stopped spinning.
All Ophelia could do was watch as a spirit as her past self went through the notions that would eventually leave those small moments of uncertainty, hazeyness, and even loud static over her memories. This time, the scene that played out before Ophelia started off with seeing an extension of herself arguing with Tom.
"...Tom, we are not doing this. For Christ's sakes, Riddle! We are adults now!"
"I tried….with you!..."
The spirit that was Ophelia watched Tom carefully, his mouth was moving but the she was only hearing some of his words. Whatever else Tom said that Ophelia was unable to hear properly sounded like a scratched record being played on repeat.
"...It's about wanting to use you!"
Now, she watched as Tom had pushed her physical body up against an alleyway wall. She watched as the handsome man pointed his wand at the base of her physical body's form.
"Imperio."
"This isn't real. This isn't real….It's all in your head, Ophelia." The half-blooded witch repeated to herself as everything restarted again. She predicted the invisible force that pulled her body along and the changing of scenery.
A man blurred out in tones of grey and white with no face stood in front of Tom on what looked like the caboose deck of a train.
Ophelia didn't get a strange feeling or any other negative feelings from the blurry outline of a man. What did cause her to have an ugly feeling in her gut was how Tom pointed his wand at the man.
"Why is your wand up?" Ophelia put herself in between Tom and the unknown man. A small hope in her chest tricked her into thinking maybe her words could reach Tom. "Put it away."
A dark and rather malignant glaze coated over Tom's eyes so much to a point where a foul shade of red took over his features. So much so it made Tom Marvolo Riddle look repugnant.
"Tom." Ophelia warned again. "Put the wand away!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Pale green eyes widened in shock as a green light shot from Tom's wand straight through Ophelia's chest and damaged the blurred man that was painted grey and white.
"Why did you do that?"
Something snapped inside Ophelia. It wasn't her sanity, her integrity, or even her mental or emotional standard-just something beyond words broke inside her soul. These revelations about what she had been through cut deep and burned into her psyche.
"I love him…" Ophelia said as she rubbed her hands on her throat a bit too hard. "I loved him and for what!" Hysterical sounds of both laughter and crying raked through the pretty brunette as she crumpled down to the floor. To the half-blooded witch, this might have been all a bad trip from peyote, but that did not lessen the impact of feeling like she had been murdered by someone she loved. "There is no trust, patience, sincerity,nothing at all with him!"
Ophelia ended up on the ground, her hands tightly wrapped around her body as she felt like she had been violated in every sense of that matter.
"You cannot change him" The soft voice repeated as it caused Ophelia's crushed spirit to be lifted from the ground and allowed her to float towards a extremely healthy looking willow tree, and placed onto one of the many branches. "You cannot change him."
Ophelia had too much mixed emotions for her to even describe. "I never tried to...not actively anyways. I was willing to take Tom as he was." Without thinking, Ophelia climbed higher into the willow tree. She felt vulnerable and maybe if she retreated higher into the tree, a small part of her would have felt safe.
"Is that what hurts you?" The willow tree asked. "That you loved him for what he is and yet he can't bring himself to love you without inflicting pain on you?
That right there was the fucking ugliest truth Ophelia ever had to deal with; she didn't answer as she continued to climb up and up on the willow tree. Her silence only was enough of an answer though.
"What will you do then?" The willow tree asked. "What will you do if you had another chance?"
Ophelia stopped climbing the tree, she let the question marinate in thought for at least two minutes before answering. "For Tom? Nothing. You're right, I cannot change him, I never tried and I never will." A surge of anger, pettiness, and self-realization boiled dangerously inside Ophelia now. "The only person I am able to change is my own bloody self."
A series of loud 'cracks' echoed out and around tree; Ophelia found herself falling down the willow tree and every branch she tried to grab to prevent herself from falling only snapped like a measly twig the send her palm scraped against it. Within seconds Ophelia felt water all over her, dragging and pulling her down into its unknown depths.
She opened her mouth to scream, only for a distorted sound to bubble out through the water particles.
Everything faded to black as a rush of pain rooted itself deep into where her (physical) heart should have been.
John Westing looked up, his pen frozen in the middle of a file report; the look of sleep depravity apparent all over him was quickly replaced with a look of surprise as the bed next to him shook with sudden life and movement.
"Ruth!" The Southern born wizard hissed as he tried to inch the chair he sat on away from the bed while still trying to hold onto his file report. "RUTH!" With a blue eye and a brown eye, John watched with mixed fascination and concern as he saw the once unconscious body of a witch reanimated in such a gawky manner. From the garbled sound that echoed out loudly, John could tell the young woman was struggling to breathe.
"Fuckin' shit." The American auror groaned as he threw his papers down to the ground and rushed to the side of a stranger's bedside. John was shocked to see that the witch's eyes were wide open and alert; a strange look of relief and pain swirled in her eyes. John helped the witch to sit up on the bed and leaned her body and tried to get her body to go as low as possible over the side of the hospital bed. As soon as John had the witch propped up the way he wanted; he placed multiple back blows along the scapula of the witch's body. A rush of clear liquid flowed rapidly out of the brunette's mouth by the time John had struck her by what felt like the hundredth time.
Immediately, John removed his hands from the witch's back, placed them into the long brown locks on her head, and used his hands to hold her hair out of her face so she could vomit out water in relative peace. Somewhere in all this, the witch was able to sneak a hand over to John Westing's shoulder. She clutched unto him tightly as obvious discomfort was written all over on her face.
"Hey! I need some help in here!" John called out as he tried to steady the witch from toppling over.
Harsh coughs shuddered through the witch's body as the vomiting came to a stop. She took a deep breath in but a swallow exhale followed after. When she finally got her breathing to steady pace; the witch ever so slightly looked over to see the face of the stranger who had helped her.
At first, she did think it was Tom Marvolo Riddle. Same shade of dark hair, the strong jaw line, and to an extent this stranger had a similar expression on his face that her Tom almost always had. A small yelp escaped her lips when she see upon closer inspection that this stranger was definitely not Tom.
"Woah, woah." The American auror didn't fight to keep the witch in his hold as she pulled away from him; he took a step back as he wanted to give her space. "No need to be scared, I'm not going to hurt you."
The witch's pale green eyes scanned the room; looking for familiar faces that were simply not present. Her heart sank at the lack of her family or friends.
The male wizard in the room caught the look of hurt in the brunette's eyes. "I'm John Westing by the way, I'm a friend of Ruth. I came with her when you were initially admitted into this hospital." John offered a hand out for the witch to shake but he wasn't going to be offended if she didn't return the gesture. Still, he held his hand out.
In a delicate movement and with a soft grip, the witch took the wizard's hand. "Ophelia Darwin."
"Ophelia, nice to officially met you now that you seem well." John shot a look towards the door; it didn't seem like help would becoming to his aid. He looked down on the floor and saw his file reports had been messed up from the vomit the brunette just spewed out moments ago; even though he could just 'magic' the mess away...John didn't particularly want to deal with paperwork at the moment. "I'm sure a nurse or a doctor or something will be here for you soon."
"That's great." Ophelia stopped to take a deep and slow breath in and out. A terrible sore feeling ached in her throat as she tried say more that two words at time. "I would like to go home now though."
John scratched the back of his head and studied the witch in front of him; he wasn't sure she knew where exactly what was going on. "Look, Ophel-." He paused and corrected himself; wasn't it formal for strangers in Motherland England to refer to each other by their last names? "Darwin, do you know where you are?"
"St. Mungo's." Ophelia staggered out of bed clumsily as she headed towards the little bathroom facility of her hospital room. "I was admitted in a couple days ago." She closed the door and locked it. Ophelia noticed how there was a bag hung up on a hook of the bathroom wall, much to her relief, there was a navy blue pan collar dress with a match wide brim boater hat along with fresh undergarments, lotion, a comb, and body soap.
John turned his attention back to the chair he'd sat on earlier; pointed his wand at the mess of papers and clear vomit that decorated the floor and waved his about in the air. "Scourgify." He was not going to force conversation onto someone who had locked themselves in a lavatory in order to freshen up.
Cold water drummed on Ophelia's skin; John held a pen steady as he went back to tending to report files.
Mister Westing was trying to adjust his report in a way where Ruth, Kane, and even Raymond were not written in a way though could incite them getting investigated by the MACUSA. He also needed phrase it in a way where the use of unauthorized magic practices were not associated with his report.
Miss Darwin stood in the shower, goosebumps all over her skin. There was a strong rage growing inside her. It was nonexistent at first but as the water rolled all over her, slowly but surely as Ophelia's mind cleared she was livid. She looked down at her left hand and felt the ugly feeling of disgust towards the beautiful engagement ring. Then there was an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that was unrelated to the ring on her finger.
Him….Ophelia thought with tears trying to burn her eyes so they could spill all over her face. No.
John Westing flinched at the sound of the bathroom door being kicked open and in an instant a a slender and slightly manicured hand grabbed the file reports out of his hand and chucked it down to the ground.
"Where is my wand?"
The American wizard carefully analyzed witch in front of him. She looked like she was aware but at the same time, John could tell there was something more emotionally festering inside her. "I wouldn't know, I wasn't here when you were admitted in. Maybe the nurses who checked you in might have that held for you in a patient inventory?"
Ophelia's pale green eyes narrowed at the handsome face in front of her. She didn't want to stay a moment longer. "No." The brunette adjusted the hat on her head as she readied to leave St. Mungo's right then and there….Yet she didn't want to be left completely alone at the moment.
"John?" Ophelia called out; she would have referred to him by his last name but she was sure Americans tended to greet and speak to each other on a first name basis. "Ever been to Greenwich Park?"
John bit the inside of his left cheek before slightly nodding his head. He supposed he could afford an afternoon out.
A loud bang echoed throughout the little study Tom Riddle locked himself. He turned to the window to see a barn owl eagerly tapping on the glass, a letter in its mouth. The official wax seal of St. Mungo's present on the envelope.
Tom threw himself out of his chair, rushed to the window, he yanked the window opened and much like a greedy child he pulled the letter out of the owl's mouth.
"A howler." Tom commented to no one in particular as the owl quickly flew away. He held the letter in his hands; there was a metaphorical weight on his shoulders weighing in on Tom as he wondered if this howler contained good news or bad news.
Now or never, right? He tore the letter open.
"Tom Riddle, good afternoon. This letter is in regards to Ophelia Darwin. We are quite happy to announce that she is awake."
A sigh of happiness echoed out of Tom's lips. There was a small voice in his head that went: 'I didn't kill her.'
"Unfortunately, we are terribly sorry to announce that Miss Darwin has gone missing moments before a healer went in to see her progress during a routine check up."
"What the bloody fucking hell?!" Tom yelled with all sense of decorum gone. The books on the shelves that surrounded his study all fell to the ground with a loud thud. How did the healers at St. Mungo's lose a whole damn person? No way in hell could the witches and wizards there be so incompetent to lose a patient in their care!
Tom rushed to get on a his coat; he grabbed two wands on his down to the chimney. He figured the floo system would get him from Dorset to London efficiently.
Green flames enveloped over Tom for no more than a brief minute. There was a strong sense of authority as Tom stepped along to the room that he saw the healers admit Ophelia in,
To his surprise, the room wasn't as empty as he was expecting.
"Excuse me," Wendy Darwin was teary eyed and still in her own nurse uniform from leaving the muggle hospital she worked at. "But what do you mean you haven't found anywhere in the facility?"
A healer with short and silver hair answered back with a rather bored expression. "This whole area has been searched from top to bottom and there has been no sign of her or the gentleman who was in the room with her."
"Excuse me." Tom's voice cut through over whatever rebuttal Ophelia's muggle of a mother was going to say. They left his fiance alone in a room with a stranger he didn't know about. "But what gentleman was left with an unconscious female without any supervision?"
"Oh, look." Poppa leaned over to whisper to Raymond. "This man doesn't check on her at all while she sick but the second he hears news she is alright, he comes to collect her."
A low scoff escaped Raymond's lips as he shook his head. "My great, great niece married a man like that once. That marriage didn't last long thank the Lord."
"Gregory, please." Tom kept his voice light and friendly. "At least I came now, that must count for something."
The older wizard opened his mouth to speak but was cut of by his own son.
"Dad, Tom, please." Ben held tight onto his wife hand as he tried to keep his shit together. His only child was missing after being in a coma; he hadn't slept well or eaten well; his wife had been a sad mess for nearly a week. This wasn't about some pretty boy Slytherin and a grouchy old Gryffindor. "Now really isn't the time for this. At all."
Even if Ophelia's father did have a point-Tom didn't care for taking orders (direct or suggested) from a squib.
"Have you tried any spells to locate her at least?" Tom turned his attention to the healer with silver hair.
"Yes, we have." The healer answered carefully. "But it's not like we can 'Accio' her back here."
"Then you're not doing the spells right." Tom replied firmly. He recognized the healer that stood before him; she was Nott's mistress. Nott even brought the witch to some of their pureblood parties-Nina Di' Rizzo was her name. This is Nott's inside source. While Tom didn't want to seem like a complete arse in front of his in-laws and others in company, he would not stand for how casually a damn mistress spoke to him. As if he was common. "You seem like a very competent witch, why don't you try again."
"It's pointless." Ruth commented as she finally looked away from the window and straight through Tom Riddle. She understood right in an instant that there was something not right about him. "Ophelia is more than likely with Mister Westing, he has a rather unique ward on him that prevents him from being found. So if she is with him, she will not be found."
Tom found out of everyone in this room, he disliked the Native American witch. There was no doubt in the heir of Slytherin's mind that Ruth was the one who had taught Ophelia the spell he knew nothing about.
John Westing sat with his back perfectly relaxed against the sturdy trunk of an oak tree; there were a couple times he nearly fell asleep due to the subtle November breeze that glided through Greenwich Park.
Ophelia Darwin sat close to the American wizard she had only met hours ago; granted her body wasn't at complete ease but it had more to do with being comatose for a few days than it did being in John's company. She hummed a songs that belonged to Ella Fitzgerald and Dean Martin to as she tried to push the memory of dreams and her feelings of helplessness away.
She didn't feel quite so livid any more...More sad, like she was grieving a part of either herself. that she lost. It was hard….Ophelia couldn't place a distinctive memory of magic without somehow adding a trace of Tom to it.
Ophelia now awake, now aware, knew simply and with no more false hope that Tom Marvolo Riddle was not meant for life as a married man. Not her-hell, maybe not another person but more than likely to his own ideals or sense of ego and self worth.
A loud bang echoed through the air; a faulty car engine had given out not far at all from the two magic users and its sound violent cracked keenly out much to the dismay of their hearing.
Without meaning to, his right hand would skirt over to the left side of his chest just to make sure that an old, cracked, and dented pocket watch was still in his possession. Instinctively, with his free hand, he also placed a rough and calloused grip completely over Ophelia's skinny and unsuspecting hands.
"John?" Ophelia had an obvious look of concern at how tight the wizard had grabbed her; it was almost he was holding onto her to make sure he was rooted in the moment they were in. "Mister Westing, are you alright?" Ophelia noted how John Westing held his breath judging by the sudden lack of the rise and fall movement in his chest.
You're not on the field, you're not at war. You're here, John! You're here! The dark haired American finally let out a raggedy excuse of an exhale but he didn't move. He was scared that the second he did; there would be a sudden flurry of bullets zooming towards him. John pinched his breast pocket once more to be sure that the pocket watch that saved his life before was still in his possession.
"I'm sorry about that, Miss Ophelia." John recoiled away from the British brunette in his company. Fuck! He was terrified he left a bruise on the young lady. "I didn't mean to grab at you."
"I'm fine." Ophelia looked straight into John's eyes: one blue and one brown. She knew; just by the look in John's eyes alone, she knew he'd gone through some terrible experiences of his own. "I will be fine. Are you alright though?"
Silence.
Ophelia inched over to the wizard; their fingers brushed against each other but she didn't care nor did she mind. "Would you like to talk about it?" Ophelia knew that she probably could never speak to her Tom so casually had they'd be in an instance such as this together-he'd blow up in her face and tell her to not waste time trying to understand him because she was too simple to even comprehend anything about Tom.
She got a strong inkling that John Westing wasn't anything like Tom Riddle-she didn't fear his reaction over a question.
"Not particularly at this moment. I try to limit any recollection of the war." John breathed out as he felt Ophelia's thumb carefully caress the back of one of his rather brute looking hands. John closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax once more as he leaned against the trunk of the oak tree; Ophelia still tracing random patterns of scribbles on his hands.
Sometimes-just sometimes-the most magical thing to happen to witches and wizards doesn't actually involve magic. In this case, it meant finding a piece of peace within someone else who neither expected nor wanted anything in return from the other.