Mine again.

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Ophelia was asleep on the couch. Tom had come down the stairs slowly, not to wake her, but he was a little proud of himself for what he had accomplished.

He had managed to get Ophelia Marigold, back into his common room, back into his life, now he wanted her back into his bed.

She was wearing his shirt to sleep. It made sense since she didn't have any of her own clothing there. Tom noticed her entire body was tense. Her face looked so afraid. He stroked her hair and she seemed to relax. She was clutching her left arm as though afraid for it to fall off.

He put his hand on the side of her face and she stirred.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She muttered, "my arm. I can't I can't hear, it's ringing,"

She looked as though she may burst into tears and Tom couldn't stand it.

"Ophelia wake up." He said, and her eyes were open, searching, her breathing shallow and her eyes scared. She stood up.

Her arms were wrapped around him in an instant, holding him close to her.

"I was so scared I would never see you again, Love. I didn't want the last thing you remembered me for being a fowl memory." She said and he wrapped his arms around her, she was shaking, "It's true what they say you know? About life flashing before your eyes. Like a slideshow."

"It's okay you're okay." He said and then he realized that it was entirely possible that she needed him as much as he needed her.

"But it was all worth it, love, it was all worth it." She muttered, still groggy.

"Why? Why on Earth would you almost dying be worth it?" He asked and she held him tighter.

"We were successful. Think of the good of the group." She said, and he moved to pick her up bridal style, "What are you doing?"

"I don't want you sleeping alone if I can help it." Said Tom, and Ophelia let him carry her to his bed. He set her down and pulled her against him, "I won't try anything." He muttered against her neck she nodded. And held his hand as she was on her side.

They always had fit like two puzzle pieces.

Tom fell asleep quickly, the scent of honey lulling him into a sense of security. He only awoke to the feeling of Ophelia trying to release herself from his grip.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked and she rolled her eyes.

"The bathroom. If that's okay with you of course." She said sarcastically.

He let her go and waited for her to come back. He lifted the covers and she slipped in, this time facing him. She stared at him for a while before speaking, and holding him tighter. Ophelia had missed this too. She liked having someone else in the bed. She liked having him in the bed.

"I was so scared I would never see you again." She said, "There was so much blood. Is that what it's like in London?"

"Sometimes." He replied quietly, her head was against his chest, listening to his heart beat. "What did you see when your life flashed before your eyes?"

"Everything. I saw when I was six and I stole a lady's watch. I saw when my parents cut me off so I could learn how to take care of myself, I saw Christmases, and I saw you a lot of you, Rosie too but she doesn't smell as nice as you do. I saw my family, everyone I love." She said, "I suppose it's meant to be that you see them all a final time as a sort of goodbye. But I didn't want to say goodbye."

"I don't know what I would have done if you had died." He said, holding her tightly.

Her eyes looked into his and she slowly and certainly pressed her lips to his. It was a slow romantic kiss though it quickly grew heated and she was on top of him.

Oh, Ophelia | Tom RiddleWhere stories live. Discover now