Ophelia [a.m]

𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖚𝖘

  If I hurt you, you never showed it.

  Why were you so nice?

  You knew people talked about you, they never bothered to keep their voices down.

  I nearly hit Olive when she stuck her foot out during potions and made you trip, dropping all of your ingredients and papers.

  My fingers twitched with the urge to help you. My mind racing with the possibility of what if our hands brushed against one another?

  I didn't move.

  I thought I was being subtle with my drifting eyes.

  Clearly not as later that night Riddle's wand was pointed at my chest.

  Crucio.

  A soft whisper which was a dichotomy to my screams.

  I was being punished for looking at you. And I wanted to laugh at my insanity for not caring. I knew I was going to do it again.

  And again and again and again and again until I grew sick of the sight of your cheeks that were always stained with the blood of pomegranates. My own version of Persephone, in all her Eleusinian mystery.

  I would never be able to take my eyes off you.

  The next day I was limping and your hand rested against my arm, helping to steady me when in reality your touch nearly made me collapse.

  Are you okay?

  That blasted, infuriating question poured out from you again. Why do you keep asking me that? You'll never get an answer, for I truly don't know.

  Even though I wore a long sleeve button down I could feel your blessed skin tear through it, imprinting yourself on me as if it was the holy palmers kiss.

  I stared at you, not realizing we had both come to a stop in the middle of the stairs, bodies ripping past us like a school of fish but never touching, never intruding into the den we fashioned.

  A dangerous game.

  The eagle and the snake.

  Talons of bronze drenched in crimson and fangs of silver that leaked ruin.

  But in the end who always had the vantage point?

  The one who could fly.

  I would always be stuck on the ground, far beneath you and never getting off the ground no matter how desperately I wanted to.

  I could scream. I could cry out to you.

  But all you'd hear is a hiss and you'd retreat into the clouds, soaring and free, far away from me.

  This was nature.

  And it was cruel.

  I shrugged you off.

The next morning I could've sworn your skirt was a bit shorter.

  Good morning.

  I ignored you.

  The petal you gave me wilting in my breast pocket.

Part of me wanted to charm it, to make it last forever. But I knew that would be reckless.

  It was stupid, and childish.

  It would have been the actions of a boy.

  I still watched you, though. I'm sorry, but I can't help it. I'd lean in the archway that overlooked the courtyard, a cigarette dangling from my lips as I watched you rest your head in the lap of your boyfriend.

  I despised him.

  Everything about the raven haired boy made it feel like Uriel had just impaled me with his sword.

  Scotty.

  You'd say, his name a lilt on your tongue, your tone sounding like velvet and I wanted to die.

  Truly I did.

  Because you'd say his name so lovingly despite the marks of anger he'd leave on you. You hid them well, but I'm an observant person.

  When you'd reach up to grab something off the higher shelves in potions your cuffs would slip back and I could make out the disgustingly yellow and green handprints.

  At first I knew you removed them with a simple charm.

  But then I caught him yelling at you for doing so and he hit you.

  I bit my tongue.

  But the next day Scott somehow fell down the stairs.

  Twice.

  Don't be like Hera, I beg you. Don't let his wickedness defile your nature and your power. Don't let him use you.

  But who am I to give you such a lecture?

  If he's Zeus.

  I'm Cronus.

He may ail you, but I fear if I got careless I'd rip out your heart without thinking twice. I'd stomp on it, tear it apart, sink my own sins into the beating artery and grin as you begged me to stop.

Or perhaps I was getting it the wrong way around.

After all, the Titans were the ones who fell.