IT WAS UTTERLY RIDICULOUS, THE stupid, completely useless sentence Professor Umbridge was making Ophelia write.

It didn't even make any sense. As if Professor Umbridge could ever make her stop wearing her favorite color. 

Yet she kept on writing, knowing that if she wouldn't, Professor Umbridge would no doubt have some worse punishment for her. 

There was no way out of this. Not for now, at least.

She cut through her skin with the quill, silent tears pouring down her cheeks at the unbearable pain, and she stifled a cry of pain, trying to bear it.

It hurt. 

It hurt so much.

She had only written eight lines, and the pain was unbearable.

Next to her, Harry was writing continuously, and Ophelia noticed that his cut, was far more deeper than her own. How did he do it? His face was impassive, his expression determined, as he repeatedly wrote his lines.

His parchment was almost full, and his hand was bleeding.

Ophelia could see faint words forming over her skin, the more she wrote, and she knew that if she continued, she would have a permanent scar in her pristine, perfectly unblemished skin.

She wrote one more line, her hand shaking.

I will never wear pink.

This time, she couldn't hide the sob that left her lips.

With every tear that dripped down her cheek, Professor Umbridge's smile widened, and Ophelia felt the sudden need to throw up, the more she stared at her own blood through her watering eyes.

This— this was practically self-harm.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Malfoy?" Umbridge asked sweetly, sipping on her tea. 

Ophelia looked up, blinking through her tears, her grey eyes glazed as she shook her head, bending her head down, and continuing to write.

You are a Gryffindor.

Be brave.

She thought of Shakespeare's words, slowly writing through her tears, her sight blurred, thinking of all the words that comforted her.

Be brave as a lion, afraid of nothing.

There is no better sign of a brave mind, than a hard hand.

Professor Umbridge suddenly stood up, and set her teacup down, before clearing her throat and leaving the office.

Ophelia kept her quill on the side, and cradled her slightly bloodied left hand, blowing on her wound to ease the pain slightly.

"Are you crying?" Harry suddenly asked, his head snapping towards her, looking at her with concern.

Ophelia swallowed thickly, slowly tilting her head up at him. She shook her head, trying to blink away her tears.

"What's she making you write?" he questioned, bending over her parchment, before raising his brows.

"I will never wear pink?" he echoed. "That's— that's stupid! Who the bloody hell would do that—"

Ophelia said nothing, refusing to look vulnerable in front of him.

Harry handed her a wrinkled tissue from his pocket. "Just used it to clean my glasses," he muttered. "But otherwise it's clean."

She was in too much pain to protest, or refuse his gesture. In too much pain to be arrogant.

 Slowly, she reached for the tissue, her perfectly manicured fingers pinching it from his grasp, and she pressed it onto her wound, intaking a sharp hiss as it stung. Her fingers throbbed with the lack of blood reaching them properly, and she bit her lip hard enough for it to bleed.

"Th-thanks," she whispered, stammering slightly as she struggled to speak. 

Harry looked shocked, eyes widening, unable to believe his eyes as she thanked him. 

"Did you just—"

Ophelia shook her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "I really can't deal with it. Yes, I am capable of saying thank you," she snapped. 

The boy cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded. "Right—sorry."

Ophelia shrugged, dabbing the blood softly. "How do you do it?" she breathed. "Go through the pain?"

"Dip your hand in Essence of Murtlap," Harry suggested. "And apply Dittany after."

She shook her head. "I mean— you've been in detention for—"

"A week," Harry finished. 

"Doesn't it hurt?" she asked softly, tilting her head slightly to inquire. 

"It does. But I'm not going to let her win."

Ophelia felt a sudden rush of energy. 

She picked up her quill, and began to write.

Moments later, Professor Umbridge walked in. 

"I see you have learned your lesson," Professor Umbridge commented, standing behind Ophelia, examining her parchment. "You may leave, Miss Malfoy. And remember, if I see you wearing anything pink during my next lesson, you shall have another detention."

Ophelia could only nod, holding her wounded hand close to her chest. It wouldn't stop bleeding. She had written the words almost fifty times.

Harry was dismissed not a minute later, and he followed Ophelia out.

Ophelia, the moment she left Professor Umbridge's office, found Colin waiting outside for her, holding a sugar quill for her.

She quickly hid her hurt hand inside her pocket, before he could see, and put up a smile on her lips for him; a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Finally!" Colin exclaimed. "You took ages in there! What did she have you doing?"

"Lines," Ophelia murmured quietly.

It was at that moment, that Colin spotted Harry. "Oh, hey Harry!"

Harry looked at the muggleborn. "Hi Colin," he replied, clearing his throat as he made eye-contact with Ophelia.

"How was detention?" Colin asked.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. Colin was always obsessed with Harry, and it was rather amusing, but tiring, at the same time.

Harry shrugged. "The same, as usual, terrible."

"Lines? She could have made you do something much worse," Colin pointed out. Ophelia noticed Harry was hiding his hand behind his back.

"What would possibly be worse than spending a single moment in her presence?" Ophelia scoffed, causing Colin to face her.

"Ophelia!" Colin exclaimed, suddenly taking her face in his hands, examining it closely. "Have you been crying?"

The blonde's cheeks flushed slightly as his warm fingers touched her skin, his brows furrowing as he looked at her. Her grey eyes looked into his, noticing all the small details on his face that she had ceased to notice before. 

She shook her head, taking a step back. "N-no, I haven't," she protested, clearing her throat.

"Oh really?" he drawled casually. "Nice lie," Colin rolled his eyes. "Hey Harry, can I ask you something?"

Ophelia just them noticed Harry, and her cheeks turned redder as she realized he had watched their interaction.

"Erm— sure," Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"Was Ophelia crying in there?"

Harry took a glance into Ophelia's wide, scared eyes, and shrugged awkwardly. "I erm—"

"You were crying!" Colin accused, turning back to face her. "Did she say something to you?"

The blonde shook her head. "Just leave it, Creevey, nothing happened!" she snapped, before turning around and beginning to walk towards the common room, her hand still in her pocket. 

Striding towards her quickly, Colin grabbed the arm she had in her pocket, trying to will her to turn around.

He didn't know it was injured.

Her hand was lifted through the air, and the tissue she was gripping fell to the floor.

The next thing Colin noticed was blood. 

Blood on the tissue, and blood smudged all over the back of her hand.

His eyes widened, as Ophelia tried to hide her hand, but it was too late.

"Shit, shit!" Colin cursed loudly, the tips of his ears turning very red as the breath left his lungs. 

Ophelia had never heard him curse before, and her eyes flitted upwards to look at him.

He took her hand between his own, examining it closely. He felt his heart stop when he read what was written. "The audacity of that bi—"

"Colin, don't," Ophelia murmured quietly, shaking her head. She knew what he was thinking. She knew he would slam down Umbridge's door for her, and yell the hell out of their professor, but there was no winning with Umbridge. She'd only do the same to him.

Colin looked at her face, stained with tears, and his eyes softened.

"Oh, Ophelia," Colin sighed tiredly, shaking his head and pulling her into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm so sorry."

Ophelia closed her eyes slightly, taking slow, deep, breaths, while Colin whispered words of comfort. 

Both of them had forgotten that Harry Potter was still there, in the corridor, unable to stop looking at their interaction.

And Harry could only stare.

He noticed how Colin held her, and how utterly strange it was, for Ophelia to hug him back. The completely unbelievable thing was that she didn't seem to mind he was a mudblood.

She treated him no different. He had never seen her smile, or feel so utterly at peace. He had never seen her expression content.

She was always so expressionless, so emotionless, that Harry had wondered how and why Colin even hung around her.

But now he understood. Ophelia was just a broken girl, with thousands of walls built around herself, and somehow, Colin Creevey had managed to climb over all those walls and barriers and see her for who she truly was.

And soon, to Harry, The Ice Princess became just a girl, with a name. Ophelia Malfoy. A beautiful name, for a beautiful girl.

And Colin had managed to see her beauty.

Their embrace was so completely wrong, and so unexpected, but the more Harry stared at them, he realized it looked rather perfect.

Ophelia looked happy.

The rumors weren't true then. Ophelia had emotions, even though she acted as if she didn't. Colin wasn't under a spell, he had just managed to get her to trust him. 

For the first time, Ophelia Malfoy looked like a Gryffindor. Hugging Colin Creevey.

She was so brave, befriending a mudblood, despite her father's publicly known involvement in the Dark Arts.

Or maybe, Harry thought, perhaps she wasn't so bad at all.

From then on, within the deepest part of his heart, he began seeing her in a different light.

As Harry began to retreat to the common room, he met Ophelia's eye in the distance, as she slowly pulled away from Colin's embrace.

Her gaze was cold, and piercing, and he nodded, after a few seconds of an intense staring competition.

They had come to the non-verbal understanding that neither of them would speak of this day. 

Not now, not ever.

It never happened.

{ hey guys ! hope you enjoyed this chapter. i loved writing it.
what did you think? i really, really ship colin and ophelia, but as i repeat! theo. nott.
apolpgies for the lack of theo here, i'm trying to make this book as realistic and slow burn as possible. trying to show all those emotional character developments.
anyway, comment, vote, follow, share <3
favorite color? (i hate this question)
mine's deep red. like blood red.
take care luvs ,,
love, jasmine }

{APR 01. 2023}