OPHELIA; tom riddle

v

The days turned to weeks as the air became crisp and Ophelia sunk deeper into her blind infatuation. Her emotion towards Tom showed no signs of slowing down nor stopping. If anything her feelings had increased due to Tom's encouragement.

The pair had become significantly closer as winter arrived. Ophelia sought comfort in Tom and he allowed it. He held her as she wept, the holidays were approaching and she had no family to celebrate with. Tom assured her he would stay but their journey together was slowly coming to an end and Ophelia was falling harder and harder with each passing second.

Their search for the stone had been futile and Tom was beginning to understand why. He had a sneaking suspicion and was currently on his way to uncover it.

Storming inside the miniature blue tent, a startled Ophelia fell from her chair and scrambled to the corner of the wall, frightened of the murderous flare on Tom's face.

"Where is it?" he growled.

"Where is what?" she whispered, her voice small and unsure.

"Do not play games with me, my love, you've toyed with me for long enough," he said, his voice remaining level, only adding to the growing feeling of helpless fear in the girl's body.

"Do you mean the stone?" she asked confusedly. "Tom, I want you to find it just as much as you do, you know that."

"Do I?" he mused, watching as she slowly grew more nervous. "Stand up," he ordered, somewhat pleased when the girl immediately rose to her feet.

"Now, my love, I've been very patient with you haven't I?" he cooed, gently stroking her cheek, snoring as she helplessly leaned into his touch. "I've gone along with your little whim to keep me around as long as possible. I can entertain it but I cannot fulfill it."

"But-"

Tom pressed a slender finger to her lips, tutting disapprovingly. "No speaking, Ophelia." he frowned, taking a step away so his back was to her. "No more games, darling."

"Now, I know you have it and Id like it back," he said calmly, which frightened her even more than if he was shouting.

"I don't know what you mean," she mumbled, growing nervous as his body whipped around and he neared her. She stepped backward until her back was pressed against the bookshelf and Tom leaned over her.

His hand found its way to her ivory neck and he held it there as he had many times before. "I know you have it, Ophelia. I've played your little game for long enough don't you think?"

"I said I don't have it!" she said much louder. "I swear!"

Silence.

Tom stood over her, seemingly deep in thought before shrugging his shoulders lazily and turning his back to her, walking towards the small table.

"Alright." he sighed. "If you say so."

He released her neck slowly and she rubbed the forming bruise angrily. "Why are you doing this, Tom?"

"Because I wasn't supposed to stay here. I was supposed to find that damned stone and leave this pathetic waste of land." he sighed, focusing on his papers rather than looking at her.

"Do you not want me to be happy, Tom?" she suddenly asked. "Is that what this is about? I'm finally getting over my family's death and you decide to ruin it?"

"And how exactly are you doing that, hm?" he chuckled dryly. "I'm not your escape, foolish girl. My role in your life is temporary and you seemed to have forgotten that."

"Why won't you let yourself be happy, Tom?" she whispered.

The question was incredibly odd for Tom and he couldn't help but turn to face the girl. "What kind of question is that?" he sighed.

"The kind that warrants a response." she glared and he rolled his eyes.

"Who in this world is ever truly happy, my love?" he responded sourly. "Sure there are brief moments of euphoria but it ends just as soon as it began. Happiness is a waste of time. Focus on power, that is something that can't die."

Ophelia knew what his answer would be, despite the fact he was avoiding it.

"Do you care if I'm happy?" she pressed.

"No, my Ophelia, I find you much more interesting when you're dispirited," he replied swiftly walking over to her, reaching his hands slowly beneath her thin satin gown to softly stroke her bare waist. Her eyes were welling with tears but she couldn't help but revel in his touch.

"Do you love me, Tom?" she asked, her heart slowly breaking, she knew his answer.

"No, Ophelia," he murmured, kissing the freezing tears that were falling from her eyes.

"Are you using me?" she asked quietly as he wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Yes, Ophelia."

A choked cry escaped her lips before she could prevent it, making Tom frown but continue. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Yes," she replied, defeat evident in her tone. Tom slowly laid her body onto the floor and hovered over her, careful not to crush her frail body beneath his weight.

"Are you going to give me what I want, my love?" he asked, trailing warm kisses down her neck, sending her into a trance as he pulled the thin sheets away from her delicate body, the only barrier between him and what he craved. Tom knew Ophelia would never deny him of what he desired, she was completely and hopelessly devoted to him, rightfully so.

If he asked for the sun she would deliver it to him. She would face the scalding heat and let herself burn to keep him warm. All he had to do was ask.

"Always." she whimpered, as his body molded with hers. He fit perfectly as if they were created by the gods solely for the purpose of being together.

Her quiet wails echoed around the small tent as he touched her. She was so tired of fighting him so Ophelia did what she did best. She submit to her dark desires, allowing herself to get lost in his touch once again. In and out, in and out.

In.

"Tell me where it is." he cooed.

Out.

"You'll leave me if I do." she wept.

In.

"Of course I will."

Out.

"Stay with me, please." she pleaded."I don't have anyone else."

"Nothing lasts forever my sweet, naive Ophelia," he murmured.

Tom paused for a moment to examine the soft body beneath him, taking in her broken expression and azure eyes filled with tears. Some from his words and some from his heavenly touch. He admired her as the blood of gods fell from her eyes and slowly rolled down her cheeks.

"How beautiful you are."

And once again, Ophelia cried. Because no matter how it hurt, she would always give him what he wanted. She was giving him what he needed to leave her and the level of hatred she held for herself was overbearing. The feeling that came with the fact she would ruin herself simply to make him happy was unbearable but she continued to strive to please him.

Because Ophelia was irrevocably in love with Tom Riddle. And she always would be.

Even if it inevitably put her to death.