autumn | severus snape

eighteen

"Ophelia, honey," her father called from the kitchen, "could you come here for a second?"

Ophelia had been avoiding her father ever since he had tried to read her mind at Malfoy Manor the week before. She wasn't entirely sure how strong her Occlumency really was, and she had things to protect now.

It was almost six and Ophelia had been preparing to leave for dinner with Teddy and his father when she stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. Her father poured himself a drink and turned to face her, smiling wide.

"Going out?" He asked, taking notice of her black dress.

"Yes," Ophelia cleared her throat, "it's only dinner."

"With Cory?" He raised his eyebrows before sipping his drink, "you know your mother doesn't like that boy."

She rolled her eyes, "well, I'm sorry to tell you, father, but you have no say in who I spend my time with."

"I'm not trying to control you, Ophelia," her father chuckled, "just a fair warning."

She stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. They stood knee deep in silence. The faucet dripped into the sink, each one reverberating around the room like a cymbal, yet no one blinked or moved to stop it.

"Okay, then," her father said finally, standing straight, "say hello to Cory for me."

Ophelia nodded, turning around to leave. She didn't have to tell him dinner was with Teddy and his father, did she?

"So.. you are not having dinner with Isaiah Bentley, then?" Her father growled.

She whipped around, eyes wide. She'd let it slip.

"How did you know that?" She questioned, composing herself.

He advanced on her slowly, ignoring her question. He raised his hand, Ophelia closed her eyes and let him do it. Skin against skin made her gasp. Crimson touched her cheek and it felt like she'd been kissed by a thousand needles. It was only on very rare occasions that he laid his hands on her like that. It never extended beyond a touch, a slap, a push, a hand against her throat. But it was enough. It was always enough.

Ophelia's hand came up to cover her warm cheek, teeth tightly clenched together.

"Did I not tell you to keep me informed?" His left eye twitched. "The one thing I ask of you.. useless," he said under his breath.

Ophelia scoffed, making the fire in her father's eyes burn brighter.

"Sure the slap stings," she spat, "but knowing that you aren't in control must hurt a great deal more."

Her father was red with anger as he breathed deeply, hands balled into fists by his sides.

Ophelia swallowed thickly, "I'm leaving now."

She was halfway out the door when she heard glass shatter and her father's elaborate cursing.

𖠇

"Welcome, Ophelia," Isaiah smiled as he held the door open for her.

"Thank you, Mr. Bentley," Ophelia stepped into their home.

Their house was welcoming from the open door to the wide hallway. Upon the walls were photographs of Teddy, so obviously very loved. The floor was an old-fashioned parquet with a blend of deep homely browns and the walls were the greens of summer gardens meeting a bold white baseboard.

Ophelia walked two steps behind Isaiah as he guided her through the house. The dining room had large arched windows, golden light flowing through and illuminating the sweet-toffee browns of the wooden floor. The backdoor was open to let the summer air fill the room.