❝ 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧... ❞
theodore nott x fem oc
*very slow burn*
this book is written for, and dedicated to all swifties out there.
rated mature for explicit violence, graphic de...
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IF OPHELIA FOUND LAST SUMMER to be the worst summer of her life, then this one was abominable. So abominable that in fact, it hardly clarified as summer in her eyes. Realistically, she would gladly face a thousand summers of last year instead of a single day in the current summer.
These were the darkest days of her life. There was nothing good about these days at all. While she had been looking so forward to come back home from Hogwarts, now... all she wanted to do was go back to Hogwarts, even though she hadn't had a very good year.
Because this didn't feel like home anymore. Lord Voldemort lived in the dungeons, and Death Eaters were swarming in and out of the royal doors of Malfoy Manor.
Narcissa was reduced to a timid, quiet woman, being ordered around to serve the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord with hospitality.
Ophelia knew that if Lucius was here, he would never take it.
But Lucius wasn't here, and so, the death eaters pranced around like royalty in the rich halls of Malfoy Manor while Narcissa slaved away after them.
Three days. It had been three days since she returned home to find Lucius gone. She hadn't moved since Narcissa and Draco had brought her to her room. She hadn't eaten. She hadn't drunk anything.
Her eyes were red and swollen and her cheeks were puffy from crying so hard. She didn't sleep. She just stayed in the same position, in the same clothes, without saying a word.
Day in. Day out.
The ache in her chest never ceased to heal. Not even when Narcissa came to hold Ophelia. Not even when Draco tried to get her to move.
In fact, Ophelia was mad at both, Draco and Narcissa for not telling her. She refused to look them in the eye.
Finally, Narcissa had no other choice but to ask Little, Ophelia's house elf to step in and try to comfort her.
It took another six hours of coaxing from Little to get Ophelia to move. And all she did was change her position.
Instead of lying upside down, she now lay the right way up on her pillows, curled into a fetal position as she hugged Princess Cleopatra.
For now she felt lifeless, her heart churning and fragmenting into a million pieces, each piece slowly disintegrating with every minute that Ophelia spent without her father.
He was her protector, her defender...
Her home.
Indeed, she only ever felt at home in his arms; in his presence.
But now? She felt like she was in a home with no walls or furniture.
