Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Forty-Five - Stunned

'I'm not happy,' he sulked.

Leant back, he dramatically slumped into the frame of the locked door. Huffing out a pointed breath, while folding both arms over his chest. He kicked out a foot, crossing his legs at the ankle, to persistently tap the toe of that smart shoe on the stone floor.

The rhythm picked up pace. Making an irrelevant, almost unnoticeable, amount of noise to passing students. Yet it stifled Ophelia's senses, until her pulse matched the beat. Until all she could hear was its tune reverberating against her skin.

The countdown to a ticking time-bomb.

He was scowling. A frown so deep, it dictated the intense lines that cut across the flat planes of his face. The impression so sharp, it would surely slice her fingertips open and draw blood.

Yet the one thing that could pacify his features and quell his bad mood wasn't an option.

Understanding why he was annoyed didn't make a difference. She wasn't willing to skip lessons to hide in bed. It would be bliss but an impossible habit to break. And she refused to wilt at the first hurdle, posed by her desires. She didn't want to lose herself. Even if her addiction was crippling; her craving could be managed.

Especially when I still see him in class.

She stiffened, noticing Draco looking back with equal intensity. His affronted expression leading her to imagine someone on the other side, opening the door he was currently leaning against.

That would give him a good scare and a better reason to be bad tempered... Seeing him trip up would definitely put me in a better mood. But knowing Draco - he'd find a way to stay standing and unfazed.

Loitering in the middle of the corridor, Ophelia jumped to his side when a stampede of third years careened past. Bright eyed and rosy cheeked, with mud smudged on hands and noses. She could tell they were filtering in from the green houses.

'We're early...we can still make a run for it,' he suggested quietly, now she was closer.

Turning her face to the side, she met and mirrored his expression. His observant eyes and held breath were willing her to agree. Waiting for permission to whisk her back to bed. Although he was too headstrong to plead his case, or offer puppy eyes, it was still hard for her to refuse.

'Don't be silly,' she replied, shaking her head, 'I still have to pass the year and would rather not spend my evenings in detention.'

'I'd rather tutor you in bed,' he murmured wistfully, 'and detention sounds like an evening locked in a room with no distractions or wands and countless desks to bend you over and-'

'-Shh,' Ophelia demanded, while checking nobody was within earshot.

'Do you want to play professor or student?'

'I can't believe you're asking me that.' Her face blanched and her jaw dropped at his causal tone.

'You're right,' he nodded seriously, 'silly question. I'm obviously the one in charge.'

She stayed silent. Too taken aback to think of a smart retort and too aroused by the idea of Draco playing professor.

'How about it then?... Get ourselves into some trouble for detention tonight?'  he added to answer her quizzical look.

'I...I can't.' She hesitated, focusing on the stone floor and nervously scuffing her shoes, 'I have plans.'

'Plans?' Draco repeated in a menacing drawl, inviting her to say more.