𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 || 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲

Chapter 16 - Snow Men

Ophelia awoke in the morning, her ears pricking up at the sound of a robin song, the bird having perched on the window ledge, singing it's morning tune.

            She opened her eyes groggily to the tweeting; the sun was only just rising over the snow dusted trees beyond Malfoy Manor. What time is it? She thought as she lifted her head from the firm pillow beneath her cheek. Her room was still dark, with just a slither of light sneaking in through the large windows. It wasn't dark enough for her to notice that the room she was in was not hers. Where am I?

            A fireplace across the room was still glowing, the embers like lava amongst the grey ash. An old rug lay over a hard wood floor, it was covered in... discarded clothes...

            Looking down she noticed the pillow beneath her palm was in fact not a pillow, but the sculpted bare chest of Lucius Malfoy. She lay with him, on the sitting room sofa, both as naked as the days they were born. Her leg was tangled with his, her body nudged into his, her head had laid on his chest, his left arm wrapped around her back, where it still weighed her down.

            "Shit, shit, shit, shit," Ophelia whispered to herself. Her eyes flashed to the clock on the mantel, five passed eight it read. "Shitty shit fuck," She breathed as she slid herself from under Lucius' arm, peeling her body away from his. In a quick dash she scoured the room for her discarded clothing, gathering them in her arms.

            With a deep breath she crept from the study, her bundle of clothes covering her modesty, and made a mad dash for the staircase down to the servants' quarters in the cellar.

            She piled the clothes up at the end of the bed, she didn't even want to look at them, grabbed a towel and headed straight for the shower.

            The hot water felt like bliss on her aching body as she stepped in.

            "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She asked herself as she ran trembling fingers through her wild morning curls. Then something caught her eye.

            The water against the white tile was tinged pink in colour. Breathing shakily, she lowered her eyes to her legs, where a smear of blood covered her inner thighs. The water pulled at the stain upon her skin, tainting it pink as it slipped down her body. Ophelia shook her head, no. How could she be so stupid? How could she give herself away so easily, and to that disgusting man! But she didn't find him disgusting, no quite the opposite, the image of his perfectly sculpted body flashed into her mind.

            She pushed that erotic imagery away immediately, disgusted by herself. Biting her lip, Ophelia's eyes closed tightly as she lowered herself to the tile floor of the shower. Pulling her legs up to her chest she let the water run over her head and back as she sobbed into her knees. She reached harshly for the loofah, loading it up with soap she scrubbed at her legs, at her arms, her stomach, her breasts. No matter how clean her body on the outside, it didn't get rid of the shameful, filthy, guilt ridden feeling she had on the inside. Her actions made her sick to her stomach.

            "How could you be so stupid?" She whispered as she buried her face between her knees. She wanted to blame the wine, but how could she? She only had the one glass. There was no excuse.

***

            Too ashamed to leave her room, Ophelia tended to her plants that morning, watering, pruning, and misting her collection. She tended to them delicately, stroking their leaves carefully as she removed dust with a damp rag.

            A knock at the door broke her from her work.

            Her heart began to race.