NEVER HAD SHE GIVEN INTO her emotional needs and urges before, and here she was, unable to control herself, involuntarily allowing tears to slip past her lashes and down her cheeks. 

It was like her mind was thoroughly and utterly messed up; for Ophelia Malfoy was so used to people hating her and triumphing when things went wrong for her, that when someone actually cared for her, it made the pain all so much more unbearable, reminding her that this was the exact reason she didn't want friends.

She hadn't even let Colin in yet. She was pushing him away from herself, stopping herself from getting attached and going through future heartbreak. Yet she got hurt even by pushing him away, which just went to show her exactly how hard heartbreak could be.

If she felt pain by pushing people away as well, how much would it hurt when she got her heart broken?

The answer, although not spoken out aloud, was mentally ringing through her head as she wiped her eyes.

Infinite pain. 

"Malfoy, wait, I.." Colin began.

"Leave me alone," she said coldly, turning around. "I don't ever want to talk to you again."

"But—"

"I said leave!" Ophelia snarled. "I write one letter to my father and you and your brother will be expelled from here, never to be heard from again."

"I'm really sorry," Colin said softly. "I didn't know about—"

Ophelia, who was in no mood to be given pity, or to hear his apologies, stood up and turned around, leaving that isle of books, storming angrily through the library to the restricted section to get to her safe haven; the secret corridor that became home to her.

It was there that she broke down fully, crying quietly to herself, silent tears pouring down her cheeks. It hurt so much. Three years of trying to build up her emotional walls, only for them to come crashing down the moment she let someone even get remotely close to her. 

Of course, she wasn't even behaving civilly with Colin in the first place, treating him like he was beneath her after how much he'd helped her, but she was a Malfoy; she couldn't just let anybody in. Let alone a mudblood. But then again, it was a filthy mudblood that was the only one nice enough to actually not treat her like an evil being. 

But what hurt her the most was her actually trying to get close to him, considering to let him in; only for him to interrupt her and assume he knew everything about her family and life.

She cried that she'd hurt Colin and he hurt her, she cried about the ordeal with Theodore last night, she wept about what Ginny and Mariana said about her, and sobbed because Draco only cared for her because Lucius had ordered it to be so. And above all, she wrenched her heart out that Lucius Malfoy was not there to help her get through it all and save her from this terrible nightmare.

Going forth from then, over the next two weeks, which felt like months in Ophelia's opinion; (she couldn't wait for the Christmas holidays to go back home), Ophelia rarely acknowledged anyone around her, skipping her meals and spending her days in the library, since she didn't want to deal with anybody. At all.

She never wrote to her father; knowing that if she put quill to parchment, she'd end up spilling out everything that raged war inside the depths of her soul, and despite the letters Lucius Malfoy sent her, she didn't open up a single one in fear that she would only cry more. 

And thus, she ended up pushing away the one person who meant the world to her.

And so went on the next two weeks; everyday she fought a losing battle with herself, not giving into the urges to let herself go and spill her raging emotions out of the tightly closed jar that was her heart. 

September was over, and October flurried in, bringing with it the autumn chills and crisp golden leaves. Ophelia often found herself outside by the lake in solitude, watching Filch sweep up the leaves into neat piles, only for Peeves the Poltergeist to jump into the piles and scatter the raked leaves everywhere, leaving the green, grassy lawns looking worse than they were before.

Draco would catch her in the hallways between classes, and he'd greet her with a nod of his head. When her brother began to make conversation with her, she'd keep distance and excuse herself, claiming she was late for classes or homework. Eventually, he stopped talking to her, or even trying to acknowledge her, treating her like a stranger from his own home.

She would sit outside and complete her homework, a change of scenery from the library, leaning against a tree and facing the Black Lake. Nobody approached her, and she approached nobody. 

It should have been perfect.

But it was the very opposite.

To anyone else, it would have seemed that Ophelia Malfoy was her usual self. Nobody knew she was depressed. Nobody knew she was unhappy. And nobody knew that she was always like this. Always unhappy.

Except this time, it was worse; since she still hadn't written to Lucius, or read his letters for that matter, due to the reason that she would break down and end up spilling everything to him. She didn't even bother to read Narcissa's letter when it was delivered to her that morning, stashing it in the front pocket of her bag, where it joined the rest of her letters from her father.

She couldn't sleep at all at night, nor did she eat at all, depriving herself of both, food and sleep. Thus, causing more gossip to circulate around her.

Mudbloods called her a robot, which she didn't know what it meant, and witches and wizards in her year called her a ghost, after they noticed she wasn't sitting at the Gryffindor table at mealtimes, and she wasn't in her bed at night. The only thing she did was attend her classes, and after she was done with class, she'd disappear; either outside, or to the library, the latter being where she spent her nights in the light of an oil lamp.

But wherever she went, and whatever she did, there was no escaping the labyrinth in her mind, of endless thoughts and fears swirling around in her head.

One particularly windy day during mid-October, Professor McGonagall approached her, ordering her to stay back after transfiguration class.

"Miss Malfoy," Professor McGonagall was saying. "Would you mind accompanying me to my office? I wish to discuss something of importance with you."

She had no choice but to follow. 

Once within the confines of Professor McGonagall's office, Ophelia wondered why she was here.

"Miss Malfoy," Professor McGonagall began gravely, putting on a pair of oval glasses, and opening a file with her name on it. "I cannot help but be victim to the idle gossip that circulates the walls of Hogwarts."

Ophelia merely shrugged, not saying a word.

"Do you know what they have been saying about you, Miss Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall questioned. 

Ophelia looked up, her cold grey eyes indifferent as they bored into her Professor's. "No. I don't pay mind to such trivialities."

"Neither do I, Miss Malfoy," said Professor McGonagall with a smile. "However, this time, I couldn't help overhearing what the girls you share a dormitory were saying. It has been rumored that you are not spending your nights in the dormitory, neither are you present during mealtimes, do enlighten me, are these rumors true?"

Ophelia, who had always been a bad liar found it easy enough to tell a lie this time. "No."

"Miss Malfoy, as your Head of House, you are my concern," Professor McGonagall told her, looking down at her file. "Although I have noticed that your grades have been improving steadily. I must say, I am quite impressed. You have an aptitude for transfiguration, and if you would like to pursue the subject further, I will be more than welcome to assist you."

"I'll take the extra classes," she stated finally, standing up. "If that is all, Professor—" 

"Miss Malfoy, sit down," Professor McGonagall interrupted her. "I wasn't done. If the workload is too much and is causing you to skip meals and sleep—"

"Professor the workload is fine," snapped Ophelia. 

"Are you receiving pressure from your family?" McGonagall asked, catching Ophelia unaware at the sudden mention of her family.

"No. I am not," she finally said, before standing up again. "I want extra classes," she concluded. "For all the subjects."

And then, she turned around and left. 

Unbeknownst to her, Professor McGonagall kept a close eye on her from then on.

And the very next day, she was approached by Draco on her way to History of Magic. "Ophelia," he drawled, accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle. "Crabbe, Goyle, leave us."

His two bodyguards left.

"I have to go," she muttered, trying to make her way past him, only for him to grip her wrist and hold her back.

She hissed in pain, her bruises from Theodore still hurting when he touched her hand, even though his grasp was gentle, and she quickly retracted her arm. 

Draco raised a brow. "You've been avoiding me," he pointed out, to which she shook her head and denied everything.

"Why haven't you written to Father?" Draco asked, crossing his arms across his chest. "It's been three weeks since he'd heard from you."

Ophelia let out a dry chuckle. "So if Daddy doesn't tell you to check up on me, you won't," she said, her cold grey eyes staring straight into his. "Good to know how much my brother cares," she said sarcastically. "It's because I'm busy," she replied. "I'm fine, and I'm getting late for class. Oh, in the future, don't bother talking to me. I've managed fine without you all this time."

And then she pushed past him, trying to get to class.

But Draco grabbed his sister's arm, and she hissed in pain once more. That was when he noticed the bruises on her wrist, as her sleeve hitched up slightly. Ophelia tried to pull her arm away before he could see, but it was too late; he had seen the fading bruises. 

"Who did this to you?" he demanded to know, his blue eyes, resembling Narcissa's, bored into hers coldly, and she was instantly reminded of Lucius, which was painful to think about.

"N-nobody," she lied, "I tripped and fell in the library.."

Then, she turned around, and ran, before Draco could further act.

She could only hope Draco hadn't told anyone, if he'd figured out her lie, but it wasn't like she wanted more attention sent her way. Draco would no doubt write to Lucius, and Lucius would storm into Hogwarts and kill Theodore Nott with his bare hands.

But a week later, nothing happened, so she was okay.

On 28th of October, when Ophelia entered the common room the change her clothes, there seemed to be a sort of exciting commotion in the common room, and when she read the latest announcement on the bulletin board in the common room, she found out that students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving on the 30th of October; two days from present.

There would be a welcoming feast for them in the Great Hall, and Ophelia saw this as an opportunity to slip away unnoticed from the rest of the students and into the comfort of the library.

Unfortunately, an hour before the feast was to begin, Ophelia had loaded her bag with sugar quills, and was making her way to the library when Professor McGonagall spotted her.

"And where exactly do you think you're going, Miss Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall had asked, lips pursed. 

"To the library," she drawled. 

"Haven't you forgotten that the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are to arrive in an hour?"

"That's today?" she questioned, playing oblivious, tilting her head and furrowing her brows, trying to make herself look like she'd forgotten.

"Nice try, Miss Malfoy. I shall expect you in the Great Hall once you're ready," Professor McGonagall ordered. "And if I do not see you in the Great Hall, I shall write to your father and inform him of your rule-breaking," she said sternly.

"Yes Professor."

She knew there was no getting out of the feast. Hence, she found herself on the Gryffindor table at six pm. 

"Oh, The Ice Princess finally dines with us," Mariana said smugly, taking the seat opposite her. "I thought us Gryffindors were beneath you?"

Ophelia silenced her with a glare and a fake smile. "Not all Gryffindors," Ophelia said sweetly. "Just you."

"Rude," Ginny Weasley sat next to Mariana. "What made her royal highness finally dine with us?"

"I don't want to be here either, Weasley," spat Ophelia, rolling her eyes.

"Then by all means, do leave," Hermione said icily, coming down to sit next to Ginny. "Hogwarts would be a better place without you."

"Ah, but you forget, I'm a real witch," Ophelia drawled. "Hogwarts is a wizarding school. It's no place for mudbloods, so perhaps you should leave."

Hermione's lips parted and she let out an angry noise before sitting down. Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter sent her dirty glares before sitting next to Hermione Granger. 

Ophelia then noticed that there was an empty space on either side of her; once again, the Gryffindors had resumed their old habits and avoided sitting next to her.

Anyway, it's not like she wanted them to come close to her.

The students from Beauxbatons arrived on Palomino flying horses. Ophelia knew the exact breed and species well, owing to the fact that she had a couple of these winged horses at home, as well as white Abraxan winged horses, her tenth birthday gift from Lucius.

The students were French, and their robes were a shade of pale blue, made of pure satin, all pale faced and fair, and for once in her life, Ophelia had competition when it came to her looks.

She could easily be mistaken for one of them if she weren't wearing Hogwarts robes. What wouldn't she give to go to Beauxbatons? She knew French fluently, and her mother was French. She'd get to live in France, the greatest place to ever exist. 

Meanwhile, Durmstrang arrived in a ship that emerged from the Black Lake, and their robes were those of fur; indicating that it was cold wherever they had come from.

When the Headmaster of Durmstrang, Igor Karkaroff shook hands with Dumbledore, Ophelia recognized the student that strode directly behind him.

It was Viktor Krum.

She had no idea he was still in school, and when her eyes were transfixed on the greatest seeker of the century, it was almost as if he'd caught her looking, met her eyes, and excused himself from the presence of the headmaster. 

And then he was in front of her. 

They had met during the summer; courtesy of Lucius. Krum had given her special training, and an autograph.

"Pleasure to meet you again, Miss Malfoy," Viktor Krum bowed in a gentlemanly fashion. 

"Pleasure, Mr. Krum," she replied, thriving in the envious looks of attention she got from the rest of the girls who were staring so blatantly, jealousy obvious in their eyes.

"I hope you can show me around the castle?" he asked in his Bulgarian accent.

"Of course."

The exchange did not go unnoticed by anyone. Igor Karkaroff, who'd just caught sight of her, nodded his head in her direction, and Ophelia acknowledged him with a matching gesture; he was a good friend of her father's, and she'd seen him a number of times prior to their meet here at Hogwarts.

"You know Krum?" Ronald Weasley gaped at her, jaw dropped.

She scoffed. "Naturally," she boasted, and tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder. "He gave me Quidditch lessons over the summer, during the Quidditch World Cup."

Harry nudged Ron to shut up, muttering something about how she was a Malfoy, and he shouldn't speak to her. 

Some students sat at the Ravenclaw table, and Viktor Krum ended up sitting next to Draco, despite the frantic insistence from Ronald Weasley.

Draco and Krum were already talking, and Ophelia tried not to look too smug about the looks of disappointment on Ron Weasley's face.

The empty space beside Ophelia was suddenly filled when two Beauxbatons girls sat next to her. They were both blonde, and Ronald Weasley could not take his eyes off one of them.

Ophelia noted her as part-veela.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable." 

The feast began, and Ophelia was quick to notice that there were cuisines from France and Bulgaria too.

Her eyes caught on the shellfish stew, also known as Bouillabaisse. She instantly filled her plate, suddenly ravenous. She hadn't eaten properly in nearly a month, and she would gladly start eating well if she was served French food daily.

"Excuse me, are you wanting ze Bouillabaisse?" asked the French girl sitting next to Ophelia.

"Yeah, have it," Potter pushed the dish towards her as Ronald Weasley was incapable of saying anything.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?'

"Yeah," replied Ron breathlessly staring at her with hearts in his eyes. 

Ophelia scoffed in amusement. "On dirait que Weasley est amoureux de toi," she drawled in a perfectly flawless French accent. (Translation: Looks like Weasley is in love with you.)

"Pardon?" the girl questioned, returning the conversation in her French. "Tu parles français?" the girl asked, surprised at Ophelia's sudden use of the language. (Translation: Pardon? You speak French?)

"Oui, ma mère est française," Ophelia nodded, as the Mariana and Ginny stared at her with their mouths open. (Translation: Yes, my mother is French)

"Je suis Fleur Delacour, enchantee," the girl introduced herself. "Et toi?" (Translation: I'm Fleur Delacour, enchanted. And you?)

"Ophelia Malfoy," she replied. "Enchantee."

She had two spoonfuls of Bouillabaisse, and stopped eating, before opening a book underneath her table and began reading. 

"That's Mr. Crouch!" exclaimed a Ron Weasley from opposite Ophelia.

"What are they doing here?" asked Harry.

"They organized the tournament, didn't they?" asked Hermione.

Ophelia looked up to see Ludo Bagman enter the Great Hall with Barty Crouch.

But what Ophelia wasn't prepared for, was a third figure following Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch. 

He strode through the Great Hall with pride, a cane with a snakehead at the top in his hand. Platinum blonde hair shining so brightly in the candlelight it was almost white, and dressed in all black robes, tailored by only the most expensive.

Ophelia felt her heart stop and her stomach let out an unpleasant lurch.
She didn't need the whispers that broke out through the hall, neither did she need the stares sent her way to tell her who it was.
 There was no mistaking it.

Lucius Malfoy had arrived at Hogwarts.

{ plot twist ! who expected that? how was this chapter? i hope you guys are enjoying the story as much as i am enjoying writing it. feel free to spam me with comments, vote and followwww !! share and do check out my other works. love, jasmine :) }

{FEB 22. 2023}