[2] after darkness → tom riddle

Chapter Eight: His Return

"Ophelia, don't forget," Archer smiled at her, "you need to be early tomorrow, we've got broom training."

Ophelia rolled her eyes as she backed up into her office, "don't worry, I won't be late, I'll be here at half five on the dot."

"You better be!" Archer laughed.

Ophelia turned to fully walk into her office, she headed to her desk and dropped all the files onto it. There he was sat at her desk. It had been a while since she last saw him. He was different. He was much paler, all the colour had drained from his body, he had bags under his eyes. Despite the change in skin colour and the sleepy look her wore, he still had the same cocky smile written across his face which caused his beautiful ocean-green eyes to glint in the light.

"If I had known you started at half-five I would have been here much earlier," Tom Riddle stood up from where he was sitting on Ophelia's office sofa, "it's been a while, Lockwood, you've barely changed."

Ophelia watched him as he walked around her office, heading to her cabinet file and picking up the photo that consisted of her and her husband dancing around their living room with their two children.

She remembered the day as if it was yesterday, it was the morning she had returned home with Nikolai hours before, and they were celebrating his birth, the four of them, happy together.

"What's your children's names?" Tom asked.

Ophelia didn't answer him, instead, she walked over to him and snatched the photo out of his hand, placing it back onto the cabinet file, where it belongs.

"Ophelia, you must answer me," Tom sighed as he watched her walk away, "I know your parents raised you better than this."

"You're not real," Ophelia sighed as she picked up one of the files and started flipping through it, "you're just a figment of my imagination, coming back to haunt me."

Tom snatched the files out of her hand and threw them across the room. He grabbed her by the wrists and forced her to look at him. "Am I really a figment of your imagination now, Lockwood?" Tom asked her.

It was the first time they had looked at each other this intense since they last saw each other.

Now she knew he was really here, she could feel their skin touching each other, their eye contact was more real than ever. He was real.

"What do you want, Tom?" Ophelia asked as she looked at him, her heart was breaking by the second, "you and I both agreed that we couldn't see each other again."

Tom looked at her, his facial features softening. "I know, I was there," he said as he rolled her eyes, "Merlin's beard, you're so..."

"So what, Tom?" Ophelia argued.

"Nothing," Tom hushed, "just forget it, okay?"

"What like I'm supposed to forget Starr? Like I'm supposed to forget Abner?" Ophelia raised her voice, gesturing her arm to the photo of the group of friends from their fifth year that sat on her desk.

"There it is!" Tom proclaimed, "for God's sake, Ophelia. How many times have I apologised? I haven't seen you in over 12 years, I apologised then and you forgave me. We stopped seeing each other, and you've not forgiven me?"

"I don't think you'll ever understand that I will never fully forgive you?" Ophelia shook her head, "God I wish I could murder you!"

Tom looked at her, he knew both of their hearts were beating at the same pace, but not for the same reason. "Why don't you?" Tom asked, his voice was calm, as though he expected her to say it.