Oh, Ophelia | Tom Riddle

Anyone Can Change, I Promise

Villains don't get happy endings.

Tom dropped the Marigolds he'd found at the cliffs onto the empty casket. The Marigold sun carved into it practically burned his eyes,

He stepped back. It was deathly silent as the sifting of dirt covering the empty wooden box in the ground beneath the tomb stone.

"Love," she would whisper, Tom kept his head down, it wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that Henry and Primrose got to live their happily ever after while their protector was gone.

It wasn't fair that Jason got to keep Ophelia's Button collection, and it wasn't fair that Sandra, fucking Sandra 'I know what you're up to' Desmond got to keep her books and notebooks. It wasn't fair that Dorothy Carrow got to keep her cousin's jewelry, it wasn't fair that only now  Ophelia was dead,

Everyone came back picking for scraps of the amazing woman she once was.

Tom had her copy of Hamlet tucked under his arm. He wouldn't part with it. The notes scribbled furiously in the margins by Ophelia was like having a part of her with him.

"Riddle?" Said Henry, and Tom looked at him, with utter apathy,

He hated him. With a passion. An absolute passion. If he didn't think it would kill Ophelia twice he would kill him.

"Halpert." He addressed, refusing to call him Marigold, Henry took a deep breath,

"Can't believe she's gone." He said, looking at his sister's grave,

Tom had insisted the epitaph, the one she'd requested on their first date; Killing me was a grave mistake,

"Neither can I." Answered Tom, looking at Primrose who was veritably sobbing into Sandra's shoulder,

The sun insignia burned brightly in Tom's eyes. And he had to look away, choosing instead to stare at the piles of flowers,

From friends of Poppy, Rose, and Ophelia.

"I keep thinking that-"

"This isn't a bonding moment, Halpert, the love of my life killed herself because I didn't get there in time," said Tom,

He kept seeing her face in passers by, a flash of gold in a white dress and a flower crown seemed to be in the corner of his eye forever.

If he had just gotten there a few moments sooner-

He hated that he thought about that constantly. He would sit on their couch in their home, and he would make her safe. He'd listen to her stupid theories, and kiss her to make her be quiet, he'd wake up with amusement and love, he'd eat dinner opposite the brightest witch he'd ever known, he'd ask her all the questions he never got to.

He'd get to give Ophelia the love he'd never gotten to but that she so deserved.

"I- I thought she could take care of herself. I didn't know the trial would take such a toll," muttered Henry,

Jason shockingly didn't seem too impacted. But then, he was Jason Finnigan.

He was smoking a cigarette by Ophelia's grave and chuckling at the inscription, before Gretchen came over and placed a hand on his shoulder.