Ophelia Black is the daughter of notorious killer Sirius Black. Ophelia's mother Portia Black (a veela) died with her friends Lily and James Potter and so did Ophelia... atleats that's what the world thought.
Follow along with Ophelia as she ventur...
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"It was supposed to be me... Cedric, he told me to take the cup, but I insisted it should be both of us." Harry looked away, unable to face the blonde girl. "If I had just taken it like he said... if I had realized where we were sooner—"
"You couldn't have known, Harry." Ophelia gently lifted his chin, making him meet her gaze. "Dark forces were conspiring against us from the beginning. This was all mapped out. One way or another, someone was going to die tonight."
"It should've been me. That was the plan—I was the goal." Ophelia's expression grew cold, her voice deadly serious.
"Don't ever say that, Harry Potter... don't even think it—" She took a deep breath, pushing away the dark thought. "I am utterly broken about Cedric... I don't know how on earth I'm supposed to move on without him...but if you had been the one to- to be lying motionless on the ground, I would have never recovered. I couldn't live with that, Harry."
Harry's eyes softened as he saw the sincerity in her glossy eyes. He couldn't contain himself... maybe it was the adrenaline of the night, or the way she was looking at him as if he were the most important thing in the world, or maybe it was because he had known this all along and was so tired of keeping it in?
"I love you, Ophelia Black."
Ophelia's eyes widened, shock washing over her face. Her eyes brimmed with tears as the weight of his words sank in. Three words, eight letters. That's all it took to break her cold, guarded heart.
"Will you be my girlfriend?" Ophelia smiled as tears ran down her face. She couldn't help but leap into Harry's arms, knocking him back onto the bed as she kissed him, cradling him close. "I'll take that as a yes?" Harry laughed into the kiss.
"Of course it's a yes, Harold!" Now it was Harry who smiled as he flipped them over so that he was on top of Ophelia, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed freely over her body.
"I love you so much, Lia," Harry breathed out once more as he looked down at a breathless Ophelia.
"Harry, I— I do too. I—" Ophelia grew frustrated, struggling to say the words. For so long, love had been something she deprived herself of... the intimacy that came with it was far too daunting for her to accept. But with Harry, she was willing to face her fears because she knew there was nothing to fear—not with him. But still, those three words, eight letters, seemed impossible to force from her lips. She had told him before that she loved him, just as she had told Ron, Hermione, and Snape, but this time, it held a different meaning. It carried much more weight. She was afraid that if she said it, the weight of her words would crush her. A prideful little Slytherin girl, too afraid to admit she was desperately and hopelessly in love.
"Ophelia, I know... it's okay. I know," Harry soothed her racing mind, laying a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You don't have to say it... not now. Darling, there's no rush; we have all the time in the world."
Ophelia smiled... he knew exactly how to ease her. No one had ever been able to read Ophelia as easily as Harry did—as he had always done.
