The Chosen One (MattheoRiddle x Ophelia)

Chapter 35

𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘸'𝘴 𝘗𝘖𝘝

I was known as a figure of cruelty, ruthlessness, and wickedness, a faithful servant to the dark lord. My loyalty knows no bounds; I would do anything to serve him. However, a peculiar quirk of fate has ignited an unexpected yearning within me - an undeniable attraction to her.

Her piercing screams and desperate cries pierce through my veins as I wanted to rip out everyone who even thinks of causing her pain. How can a mere mortal girl have so much ability to attract the dark lord's son? I despise her with every fiber of my being, capable of ending her life in an instant without remorse. But now, as I stood here to her torment, I just wanted to dismantle the dark lord, eradicating his existence from this planet.

From the moment, I first locked eyes with those stormy hazel orbs, my world shifted. There was something mischievous and notorious about her aura, captivating my attention. Now, here's the thing - she's stubborn, like really stubborn. It's one of those qualities that can drive you up a wall. But it's also admirable. There's a certain bravery in how she constantly goes against the will of others, refusing to back down.

What blew my mind, though, was when she slapped me in the middle of a dark hallway. It was a moment that stirred unfamiliar emotions within me. Guilt, something I'd never really experienced before. Sure, I had my fair share of wild encounters with countless women, but this girl managed to do what others couldn't - make me feel remorseful.

So, there I was, Matthew Riddle, the son of the infamous Voldemort, contemplating something I never thought I would: asking for forgiveness. But deep down, I was starting to realize that she was having an unexpected effect on me. The more time I spent with her, the more I found himself questioning everything I thought I knew.

Then came the moment when Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse on her, causing her unimaginable pain. It was the tipping point. My body tensed, my muscles crying out for something I had never desired before - to rip the dark lord apart, to protect her at any cost. Could it be possible that she was making me weak? A part of me wanted to deny it, cling to the belief that nobody could ever weaken me. But in reality, this girl was transforming me into something I had never imagined being.

I couldn't possibly forget the way she felt, the way her body fit perfectly in my hands. Despite her tough exterior, she possessed a softness and gentleness that seemed almost fragile, as if a simple touch could make her melt. It frustrated me how much she affected me, how she managed to leave an indelible imprint on my heart. She was just a girl, after all, but there was something about her that called to me.

As the dark lord and his worthless followers left the grand dining hall, I found myself unable to resist the pull to protect her. Narcissa, carried Ophelia's unconscious form to her room. I silently trailed behind Narcissa and the maid as they carefully laid Ophelia on the soft bed. Concealed behind the towering pillars, I ensured that Narcissa remained oblivious to my presence. Waiting patiently for the two women to exit the room, I seized the opportunity to enter unnoticed.

As the door closed behind them, I stepped inside, cautious not to disturb the serene atmosphere. The room was adorned with opulent tapestries. Soft candlelight decorated gracefully, casting a warm glow upon the room. The air carried a delicate fragrance of lavender, soothing to the senses.

Approaching the bed, my heart swelled with an overwhelming desire to provide her the comfort she so desperately needed.

I couldn't quite understand this foreign feeling that had suddenly taken hold of me, leaving me feeling inexplicably weak. Yet, despite my confusion, I found myself drawn to her side, sitting quietly on her bed, watching her sleep in her unconscious state. I couldn't help but reach out, gently brushing away the few tendrils of hair that had fallen onto her forehead, unveiling her delicate face illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight.

Her long lashes pressed together, her pink, plump lips, and those adorable, chubby cheeks that students often refer to as cute- it was the first time I truly noticed these endearing features. It was as if a hidden brightness had been revealed, and I marveled at the sight before me. But what truly caught my attention was the strand of red hair, subtly revealing itself against the moonlit backdrop. I wondered if she had naturally fiery locks or if she had colored them. Regardless, there was a mesmerizing beauty in this revelation, a beauty that seemed to complement her peaceful slumber.

As the chilly wind blew, causing goosebumps to emerge on her delicate skin, I hurriedly retrieved the duvet and gently covered her. I couldn't forget the night when Umbridge had unleashed her punishment upon her, leaving burns on her hands. Ophelia had tried to conceal the pain, but nothing could escape my observant gaze. The agony she bore made me vulnerable. I felt this overwhelming desire to ease her suffering, and in that moment, she succeeded in changing me.

Yet, as my fingers pressed gently against her shoulder, she instinctively clutched onto them, gripping tightly as if afraid that I would suddenly vanish. I gently released her hand, placing it gently on the pillow beside her. I closed the window, shutting out the cold night breeze, and turned to leave.

But just as I was about to exit the room, a new sensation bubbled within me-a feeling I had never experienced before, infiltrating the icy depths of my heart. Without hesitating, I reapproached her bed. Leaning down, I placed a soft, tender kiss on her forehead, a silent promise of protection and care. With a final glance, I blew out the candles, leaving her undisturbed in peaceful darkness.

In that moment, I realized that Ophelia was changing me, bit by bit, as I willingly melted beneath the warmth of her presence. This mere girl had managed to unravel the cold exterior that encased my soul, sparking a flicker of something new and extraordinary.