KNOWING HER REPUTATION, OPHELIA OPTED it best to find an empty compartment as she made her way down the train, dragging her trunk behind her, with great difficulty, since it was thrice as heavy as her, and she'd managed to fit in her brand new French wardrobe into it, with the help of an undetectable extension charm, courtesy of her father. 

Her choice of clothes today were a stylish dark blue mini-skirt, and a sleeveless, light-pink blouse with ruffles at the front, paired with a pair of white, heeled wedges. She'd also started applying light makeup, her prominent features emphasized by eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss, her skin having a natural glow and blush to it. She could easily be mistaken for a fourth year.

"Need help?" came a pair of synchronizing voices from behind her. She whirled around at top speed, coming face to face with the Weasley twins. 

They'd barely spoken to her, and when they did, it was to tell her exactly how foul her brother and father were, emphasizing that she was just as rotten as they were.

"No thanks," she replied curtly, continuing to drag her trunk across the floor, uncaring of the screeching sound it made as it moved an inch with every tug. 

"Are you new?" one of the twins asked her, nudging the other to keep silent.

"No," she answered shortly. She didn't want to cause any fights or drama within the first five minutes of her arrival, but if the Weasley twins persisted to annoy her, there was no telling what she'd do.

"Which house are you in?" questioned the other twin. "Don't recall seeing you around here."

"Gryffindor," she said with a proud, arrogant shrug.

"Blimey George," said the other twin, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the name on her pink trunk. "Ophelia Malfoy got pretty over the summer."

"You're joking," said the other twin, peering at her. "Malfoy?"

Ophelia so badly wanted to say something really rude; she didn't like the way the Weasley twins objectified her. Remembering her promise to her mother, she nodded singly and sighed, turning around and proceeding to drag her trunk across the train, blocking the most of the way.

"Would you like help with that?" George asked. 

She shook her head and moved her trunk another inch forward. 

"C'mon George, let's leave her alone," said Fred.

"Fred, she's clearly struggling," George continued.

"She's a Malfoy, she won't take help from bloodtraitors like us," continued Fred, with a bitter taste in his mouth as he said 'Malfoy'.

"She, can hear you," remarked Ophelia, loud enough so both of them could hear her. "And she has a name, and would not like to be treated like an object," she snapped. "Looks like your manners in treating ladies in nonexistent," she said rudely. "Just like the rest of your manners. But I assume that's how children like you are raised. Didn't your parents teach you anything?"

Before she could even fathom what was going on, both the the twins were fuming, and had drawn their wands, which were both pointing at her.

"What did you say?" scowled Fred.

"You heard me," Ophelia replied, her gaze hard, placing her hands on her hips. "Or is your hearing as bad as your manners?"

"Ooooh," hissed one of the onlookers, who'd suddenly arrived at the scene. "Burn!"

Ophelia made eye-contact with him, recalling him to be one of her brother's best friends, Blaise Zabini.

"Keep talking, Malfoy," the other twin said. "And you'll wish you'll have never spoken."

They raised their wand, about to hex her, when she drew her own wand. "Go ahead, try me," she replied with a confident shrug, bearing the signature Malfoy smirk.

"What, is going on here?" came a drawling voice from behind the Weasley twins. "I was told the Weasley bloodtraitors were being insulted by a Third-Year girl and I came to watch the drama."

Ophelia knew that voice anywhere. It belonged to her brother, and she knew that if he saw her here, he'd write to Narcissa, and Ophelia would most likely get into trouble.

The Weasley twins turned around. "Oh, there's the other one," scoffed Fred. "As if one couldn't be bad enough."

Draco Malfoy forced himself through both the twins, his eyes instantly landing on his little sister's, a smirk making its way across his lips as he let out a dry chuckle.

"Of course it's you," he drawled, shaking his head with a small smile, coming face to face with her, barely inches apart. Her cold, grey eyes softened slightly on landing on her brother's gaze. 

On-lookers were quietly amused at the drama they so desperately craved all year round, no doubt excited for a new piece of gossip to tell their friends. 

Draco swaggered, turning back to face the twins, eyes falling on the wands in their hands. "Tsk, tsk," he scoffed. "Two against one," he remarked arrogantly. "Two Sixth-Years versus a Third Year?" he mocked. "Looks like the Weasleys are bullies as well as manner less," he tutted. "What if upbringing like theirs.. it was bound to happen."

Ophelia gulped, at a standstill. She didn't know what her brother was going to do, and she too, didn't want to cause any further trouble.

"Malfoy, I swear to God," snarled one of the twins, pointing his wand at Draco.

"You'll what?" snapped Draco, strutting closer to the twins, narrowing his eyes. Being fourteen, he was nearly as tall as the Weasley twins. "Don't," he hissed, nearly touching them both, alternating his gaze between them. "Don't you dare ever, lay a hand on my sister," he spat venomously. "Or I'll make sure it's the last thing you'll ever do," he growled. "I'll make sure to ruin you, and your family. That applies to anyone who lays a hand or wand on my sister," he added in a louder tone, his eyes glaring at all those who'd come to watch. 

Knowing a Malfoy's reputation exceeded even the Minister of Magic's at times, Draco knew that his threat was well-delivered. It only took one word to the ears of Lucius Malfoy for all hell to break loose.

Draco arrogantly turned back to his sister, effortlessly lifting up her trunk for her, and protectively wrapping an around her shoulders, finding her an empty compartment and lifting her trunk up into the luggage rack, before closing the compartment door shut and drawing the blinds.

"Why'd you help me?" asked Ophelia quietly, speaking the first words she had since her argument with the Weasleys. 

"You're my sister," Draco replied nonchalantly, placing his hands in his pockets. 

"That's never stopped you from laughing at me like the rest," she replied, crossing her arms across her chest. "Unless... Father threatened you, didn't he?" she asked, eyes watering.

Draco said nothing.

Ophelia instantly knew she was right. That perhaps, she had hoped Draco actually cared enough about her to actually come to her rescue. But then again, he was terrified of their father, and had most probably only looked after her to stay in the good books of Lucius Malfoy. 

"Ophelia," Draco began. "I promised Father..."

"Don't," she said quietly, cutting his words, wiping her watering eyes. "He threatened you to look after me," she continued with a low tone. "You wouldn't have otherwise. We both know it. We both know you hate me," she continued, silent tears pouring down her cheeks. 

"Ophelia," Draco said again, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Look, I..."

She shrugged his hand off. "Just go. We both know you don't want to do anything with me. I'll save you the liberty of talking." 

She opened the compartment door for him, wiping her eyes and sitting down by the window, taking out a mirror and fixing her makeup.

Draco shrugged and left.

To anyone else, it might have seemed as if Ophelia was emotionless, just applying her makeup, but inwardly, she was so hurt. So much for hoping that this would be her year. She had no idea what exactly she'd done to earn Draco's dislike, besides being a Gryffindor.

Once she'd fixed her appearance, she took out an old, hard-covered book, one of her classical favorites, Antony and Cleopatra, from her mother's secret collection of muggle literature books, turned to the page she previously stopped at, and began to read.

A knock sounded on the door of the compartment, interrupting her from her book. "Hi."

She looked up at the owner of the voice, who happened to be a tall, skinny boy, with chestnut brown hair and light brown eyes. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, hands fidgeting with a muggle camera that dangled around his neck. "Everywhere else is full."

She knew him to be that boy in all her classes, who got petrified in their first year, Colin Creevey. A mudblood. Ignoring him, she turned back to her book. "Go away."

Colin sighed and nodded, dragging his trunk and heading off, only to return ten minutes later. "Can I please sit here?" he asked, a desperate look in his eyes. "There's literally nowhere else. I promise I won't talk to you," he added.

"Since you begged so nicely," she smirked, gesturing for him to enter with a wave of her fingers. "One word and you're out."

"Thanks, Malfoy."

She silenced him with a glare.

"Are you alright?"

"Shut up," she responded without looking up from her book.

He went quiet.

"Antony and Cleopatra?" he questioned, looking at her book, after another hour of silence, "The breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack."

She looked up at this, her hard gaze softening, but only slightly. "You've read it?" she asked in a rather surprised tone. 

Colin nodded. "It's a muggle book, is it not?" he asked awkwardly.

"It is," she replied one-wordedly.

"Ophelia Malfoy reading a muggle book," he teased with a small smile. "What would your parents say?"

She looked up from her scripture, again, glaring at him with her cold, expressionless, grey eyes. "This book was my mother's. Now don't disturb me, or you can get out and sit with the driver."

That was enough to silence Colin for another hour. 

The trolley lady came to their compartment, and Colin, who was careful not to disturb the blonde, lest he'd find himself with the driver, decided she'd probably be hungry and bought one of everything, for her to pick what she wanted, uncaring that he'd just spent all of his monthly allowance.

"Erm, Malfoy?" he broke the silence, clearing his throat.

"What?" she didn't look up from her book.

"I erm.. Are you hungry?"

That wasn't the question she was expecting, and she put her book down, closing it and placing her finger in between the page she'd stopped at, tilting her head upwards to look at him.

"I bought you something," he continued, gulping, unsure of what she'd say. "If you want.."

That wasn't at all what she'd presumed. She had been nothing but cruel to him, and yet here he was, having spent all of his money on her. She couldn't tell if it was a joke or not. Not to mention the fact that he was a mudblood. 

His expression was serious, when he handed her the bag of treats he'd purchased. "I wasn't sure what you liked," he added awkwardly. "Please say something," he sighed dejectedly, finding her silence awkward. "Even if it's to tell me to get out."

At this, the corner of her lips curled upwards into a tiny smile, only very slightly, and she reached for a Sugar Quill. "Thank you."

Colin let out a sigh of relief, causing the smile on her lips to widen slightly. It was quite amusing, how scared he was of her.

"Why're you smiling?" Colin asked, his expression filling with dread. "This is the part where you kill me, isn't it?"

Ophelia only shook her head, unable to stop the small chuckle that escaped her lips.

Colin gasped. "You laughed!" he exclaimed. "You actually laughed." He reached for the camera on his lap and took a picture of her smile, even if it was only short-lived. "Ophelia Malfoy, reading Muggle Books and capable of smiling," he said unbelievably. "Whoever would have thought?"

"You'd better not tell anyone," she threatened, back to throwing him her infamous glare. "Wouldn't want my reputation to be ruined now, would I?"

"Got it," he nodded, biting into a cauldron cake. "Won't tell anyone."

"Swear on it," she demanded, sucking on her Sugar Quill. 

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Colin said with a small smile. "Stick a needle in my eye."

She furrowed her brows. "I don't have a needle," she replied. "But I'm sure one of..."

Colin broke her off by bursting into laughter. "It's a metaphorical phrase," he laughed. "Not literal."

"Oh."

Colin showed her the picture he'd taken of her smiling, on his camera. "Smile more often," he told her. "You look pretty when you smile."

She froze, her cheeks coated with a light blush, his words catching her unaware. "Delete it," she ordered quietly. 

"Not until you say please," Colin teased. 

"I'm not going to beg, Creevey," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Delete it."

"Yes, Professor," he muttered sarcastically, pressing the delete button and showing it to her. "Happy?"

"Satisfied," she corrected.

"You know, Malfoy, you're not that bad," he commented. "You're actually great company."

"Don't go around telling this to everyone," she replied, turning back to her book. "I'm not at the leisure to entertain more people. One talkative boy is enough," she replied, hiding her smirk behind her book. 

Colin gasped, "I'm not talkative!"

She looked up from her pages, rolling her eyes. "Hmm, you aren't," she said, in faux thought. "You're incessantly talkative," she smirked.

Colin looked positively offended and gasped, placing a hand on his chest, as if wounded, eyes ghastly wide. "That's not fair!" he exclaimed. "I can be quiet. Just watch me."

He didn't talk for the rest of the ride.

{ here's the next chapter. i hope it was alright. i really enjoyed writing it. i'm sorry for the lack of theo/ophelia here, i will have an interaction hopefully in the next chapter. by the way, this is a slow burn, so it'll take really long before the characters develop feelings for each other. remember, ophelia is thirteen, so it's kind of a young age. colin and ophelia are kind of cute, don't you think so? anyway, please comment, vote, share and follow. stay tuned for the next update. dedicated to anna for her endless support. go follow her. love, jasmine. }

{19 FEB. 2023}