𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 | 𝐡. 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝟕𝟑 - 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐠𝐨𝐰 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬

𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙭𝙚𝙙 𝙊𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙇𝙚 𝙁𝙖𝙮, maybe it was because she could smell it coming through the humid breeze, the smell of hot wet concrete and disturbed ground hovering in the air, or how the hairs on her arms stood up as she anticipated the rumbling thunder followed by the loud crack of lightning.

Storms might have been the only thing that made Ophelia feel at peace, finally there was something louder and more chaotic than the thoughts clouding her brain, it gave her something else to focus on. There was finally something else to shake the foundations of the house rather than her heartbroken anxiety attacks at the very thought of facing school again, the thought of it made her viscerally angry yet violently sick. She knew it wouldn't be long until she ran into Romilda face to face and then she knew it wouldn't be quite long after that where she would be expelled for committing some violent act against her.

Ophelia had tried.
Physically, there was nothing she could do to stem the anger regarding Romilda, she'd tried meditating, positive reinforcement... hell, she even tried writing down nice things about Romilda but it ultimately ended up with Ophelia sitting in front of the fireplace using the words as kindling to her rage.

She'd tried downplaying what Romilda did.
Like sure, she kissed my boyfriend and manipulated him into believing that she was there to help him, did she really deserve a round-house to the face?

And her conclusion, without any shadow of a doubt was always, yes.

Ophelia tried turning the other cheek, she tried biting the inside of her cheek when Romilda was brought up but she'd end up in pain with a mouthful of iron and given the amount of pain that Romilda had already put her through she had made up her mind on returning some of that right back to her.

But the question was how?

"Ophelia!" Yelled Gwen's voice from below, "Breakfast is ready!"

Ophelia hopped off of the windowsill she was perched on, stuffing out the cigarette in her ashtray before opening the window to toss out the contents.

Hastily, she stuffed her ashtray into her carry on bag and her cigarettes and lighter into her jacket pocket. Standing in the centre of the room she waved her hand making the smell of cigarettes disappear from the room entirely and from her hair, glancing in the mirror she briefly fixed her hair before opening the door again.

To find Harry standing there with his hand outstretched ready to knock on the door, his desperate need to go to the toilet disappeared in an instant the moment his eyes met hers.

She smiled, her head bowing briefly before she looked back up to look at him again except this time she was wearing that smile of hers, the one that had him weak at the knees, he returned it, not being able to help himself as he took in her appearance.

She felt each and every part of her skin light up as he did, especially when his eyes lingered heavily on her lips.

"Did you need the bathroom?" She asked, leaning against the doorframe, he couldn't even formulate words as he spotted his shirt over the top of her outfit, he had forgotten which language he spoke.

It was almost as if she was advertising that she was his again.

"Harry?" She asked, gently tapping his chin with her finger, he blinked and shook his head.
"You didn't need the toilet?"

"No-I-um-I was just-looking for... some- I actually don't remember." He scrambled, scratching the back of his neck as she pressed her back properly into the narrow doorway to make room for him to peer into the bathroom, he leaned to look into the room but instinctively realised that to go inside he would have to brush past her, and judging by the coy smile she wore he was 100% certain that this was intentional.