Ophelia Delacour is unwilling to return to Beauxbaton after a series of devastating events. Turning to Hogwarts for refuge and answers, she finds something she least expects.
Boys were the last thing on her mind. Answers for her mother's death is w...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
'Look down,' Tracey gently requested, before swiping a makeup brush over Ophelia's eyelids. Smudging the shadow with the pad of her thumb. She softened the brown and orange tones, paling to the corners of each eye. And drew a fine streak of kohl liner into delicate flicks, to finish.
Hiding the tear marks beneath foundation and coating her dull skin in shimmering serums. Ophelia hoped the dramatic makeup would distract everyone from seeing the vacant look in her eyes.
Adding colour with blush and bronzing powders to mask how detached she felt. How cold and alone, even in the company of her closest friends.
'Look up,' Tracey mumbled, chewing on her bottom lip while concentrating. As she angled the mascara brush, fanning and lengthening Ophelia's eyelashes. 'That's it,' she muttered absentmindedly. Pulling away to admire her handiwork, before applying more to her lower lashes.
'You look divine,' Millicent called, walking out of the steaming bathroom, in a plume of coconut scented mist. Charming the hairbrush on her bedside table, to fly into her hand. She proceeded to part and comb her conditioned hair. Rubbing argan oil into the ends with her fingertips. Before noticing the mess. A trail of wet footprints, from the water droplets cascading down her arms and legs. Collecting in little puddles on the floor, despite the towel wrapped around her body.
'Thanks for being here,' Ophelia blurted out, while Millicent cleared up with a drying spell. 'I'd be even more of a mess if it weren't for you two...' She trailed off, with a sorry shake of her head.
'You're not a mess' Tracey chided softly.
'Never,' Millicent firmly agreed. 'Although I'll break his fucking nose - and leave him looking like a mess - if he doesn't have a good explanation,' she hissed under her breath, while walking back to the bathroom to get dressed.
'We can still hear you,' Tracey sighed, before turning to lock eyes with Ophelia. 'We don't know what's happened - remember that.'
'I do - that's the problem,' Ophelia winced, tipping her head forwards to stare at her lap. 'It could be nothing or exactly what I fear but either way - why isn't he here? Why hasn't he come to talk? Or I dunno...spent any time with me in the past few days...? It's like I'm not even his girlfriend.'
Blushing over her candid words, she couldn't help rambling. Couldn't contain the questions whirring through her mind - until the disappointment arrived, with the realisation that Tracey didn't have the answers.
'I've seen the way he looks at you, he adores you,' Tracey remarked. Placing a hand over Ophelia's knee and tenderly squeezing that point, to comfort her friend.
'Recently?' Ophelia asked for reassurance without thinking. Toying with her cuticles, as she fixated on her hands, instead of Tracey's expression.
