Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Fifty-Six - Half-Truths

Civil.

The word echoed between Draco's ears. Buzzing against the sensitive skin on his neck, like a persistent fly he needed to swat away. But it was no use. There was no escaping her request, or the finality of her tone, once she uttered that unsavoury word - without a care for what it would do to me.

Ophelia was careful to approach Draco in neutral territory. When he was comfortably set between his parchment, history books and a neat row of inkwells. In what used to be her favourite seat, until I made it mine.

Stealing the room of requirement wasn't enough. Nor laying in the same sheets, or smelling the intoxicating fragrance she left on her silk pillow. It was dire...my craving for more. But after what happened on her birthday, I was genuinely trying to give her space, so she could take the lead.

Big mistake.

Ophelia found him in the library with his quill dancing over the page. And his brow deeply furrowed, as he concentrated on the text. Fluidly writing without stopping, until he froze - sensing her presence - and peered up to meet her eye.

She looked guilty for interrupting. Chewing her bottom lip, like she didn't know what to say. Even though she obviously came to talk... And I daren't imagine what emotions she read from my expression when I spotted that goddamned charm around her neck. It sent me wild. 

It was maddening...seeing it sit so prettily upon the smooth flesh, past the dip in her throat.

Draco was amazed that his gift had been awarded a position by her heart. Moreover, he was in awe of her decision to take the charm from its own chain and add it onto the silver necklace that supported her most important procession. Her mother's pendant.

It was nestled between an opening in her cotton shirt, inviting him to stare. Which he did, shamelessly, until she made a little smug sound. Prompting him to look up, just in time to catch the smirk curving her full lips.

She wasn't cruelly triumphant. There was no nastiness in her expression...just the right dose of sweet satisfaction.

I should've told her then, that I would never stop looking at her like that. The longing, the lust, would always be endless. But I balked, once she started speaking. Once she changed the course of a conversation I stupidly imagined inside my head.

'Thank you, that was very kind of you,' she mumbled, almost shyly, despite the look on her face. Toying with her gift between her thumb and forefinger, so he knew what she was referencing.

The single most romantic gift I've ever given.

I spent a week considering everything she might want. Then several more days ransacking every shop in Hogsmeade. Until I realised nothing would be suitable, unless it was made to order.

I described the design as best I could, before sending a dozen owls off that night...hoping that one of the acclaimed jewellers I contacted would take my request and the fine commission I was offering. And as luck would have it, everything went as planned.

I collected the package from the postoffice in Hogsmeade because I didn't trust prying eyes to stay silent, if it arrived by owl at breakfast. Then, I debated a few smaller gifts while I had time to kill. Taking a leisurely walk, thinking about my girl, until the notion of getting her a cake struck me headlong.

I wasn't surprised to be trounced by Millicent and Tracey's plans. But I didn't expect to overhear their conversation in Madam Puddifoot's. Where I realised the real problem wasn't their opinion of me - or whether Ophelia would like her gift - it was how I was going to hand it over. That was the true dilemma.