Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Thirty - Gryffindor Tower

The students were giddy with jubilation, jumping in their seats. Their chorus of song was the only thing to be heard for miles. Dancing merrily, to their own off-key tune, while four canons shot red and gold confetti over their heads.

Nobody, not even the commentators, had predicted this ending.

Draco had been ahead from the moment he spotted the snitch; leaving Harry to hopelessly race after him. Yet somehow, he lost his balance at the most crucial moment. And by the time he was back on his broom – it was too late.

The questions concerning – why and how – were ignored. All that mattered was Harry had delivered the Gryffindors another striking victory.

But the look of shock on Draco's face, as he fell to the ground, was all Ophelia saw.

Everything on the periphery of her vision moved in a blur of slow-motion. Only he stood out, in focus.

Instead of celebrating, she waited for Nott to help him off the floor and take him to the locker room. Staring at his back, while he walked away, she looked for any proof of injury. But he just looked exhausted.

She felt her heart-rate stabilise, as she repeated in her head, he's not hurt. He's okay.

She wanted to run to him – but there was no way to make it through the crowd. She wanted to speak to him – but he was too far away. She wanted to console him – but she knew he would hate her for trying.

Despite playing well, and almost winning, she knew those silver linings wouldn't cover his disappointment. He would struggle with this loss. Even if it was just a school tournament, it had been important to him. And that was something Ophelia knew not to question.

Truthfully, if she were by his side, she wouldn't know the right words to say, or how to make him feel better.

So she allowed herself to be swept by the tide of students. Following them all the way to Gryffindor tower, before second-guessing her decision.

What should I do? He's not hurt – but he's probably feeling shaken! I mean, why would he fly at that speed, if he can't control the broom?

Shit Phi – all that matters is he's okay...but should I go after him? I could make up some excuse to leave...but will he even want to see me?

Argh.

He probably wants space and time with the team... at least they'll know how to console him.

Drifting into the girls' dormitory, her anxious mind ran over the memory of him lying on the pitch. Slumping her body against the wall, she absentmindedly toyed with her necklace.

There's no use worrying if I'm not going to do anything about it! Trying to scold her agitated thoughts into submission Look, I can just enjoy the party and check on him later – or tomorrow.

Quidditch is a dangerous sport, and these things happen, so I should have been prepared. He'll be pissed off, but he'll get over it.

Looking up, she found Ginny entering the room.

Still dressed in her red jersey, her hair slicked back, and her face streaked with face-paint. Wearing that triumphant smile, which always pulled Ophelia from her thoughts.

'Congratulations Ginny!' Ophelia cried, bounding over for a hug.

Standing back, she gave a convincing smile, before continuing, 'you were superb! Every goal was amazing! The way you dodged Nott every time – shit – he'll be complaining about that for weeks!'