❝ 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧... ❞
theodore nott x fem oc
*very slow burn*
this book is written for, and dedicated to all swifties out there.
rated mature for explicit violence, graphic de...
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AS THE CLOCK TICKED AWAY, Ophelia lay enveloped in the soft embrace of her bed. Despite the weariness that weighed heavily upon her, sleep remained an elusive specter, dancing just beyond reach. With each turn she took, a cascade of thoughts, like a relentless storm, besieged her mind, leaving her adrift in a sea of wakefulness.
It felt like hours ago, when Ginny, Mariana and the rest of the Gryffindor girls in her year entered the dormitory to sleep, where she had been feigning sleep, a deep ruse to mask the fact that she was awake.
Now, as the night deepened its hold, the others lay in the embrace of dreams, while she remained the sole sentinel of consciousness, enveloped in the quietude of solitude.
The sheer satin material of her pajamas clung to her warm figure, clinging to her like a second skin, and she was feeling hot, despite the freezing weather outside. She could hear the wind billowing outside and rattling the windows, knocking to come inside and put out their warm fire.
Her hand fumbling around her sheets and the bedside for her wand, she lit it with a Lumos spell so she could see where Princess Cleopatra lay.
If she had Cleo by her side, she would at least find it easier to fall asleep.
Her cat wasn't under her bed.
Sighing, she checked under her quilt and covers, for her pet sometimes liked to hide beneath the sheets, but once again, she discovered she was alone.
Her watch read the time as two twenty seven am.
"Cleo," she whispered softly, calling for her cat, who might have gone underneath someone else's bed.
After another five minutes of searching around the room, Ophelia decided to check the common room for her cat.
Slowly, the soft skin of her feet soundlessly pattered against the floor and down the steps to the common room. The fire was almost out, the embers casting a dull orange glow around the room.
"Cleo," Ophelia called softly, clicking her fingers in the same way that she always did to summon her cat.
A tiny mewl was heard, but it wasn't accompanied by the familiar sound of her cat's running feet to meet its master.
She followed the sound; it sounded as if Cleo was curled up by the fireplace.
On moving closer to the fireplace, Ophelia's breath hitched. Cleo was by the fireplace, but she wasn't alone.
She suddenly felt bare, and cursed herself for being careless enough to think that nobody else would be awake at this time to see her in the very indecent pair of shorts and matching camisole that she called pajamas.
