Pulling Strings - Theodore Nott

28. The calm before the storm

The first week back to school felt, in many senses, like last year. It was as if Ophelia had managed to get her hands on a time turner and used it—as so many times she had wished—to go back to when things were less complicated. A time when Theodore Nott did not actively seek her out to ruin her life.

The problem was, no matter how much things went back to the way they were at the beginning, Ophelia had changed, unintentionally, over the past months.

Right now, she was sitting next to Anna at Slytherin's long table, having lunch. She could hear her friend speaking to her, or at least, she could see her mouth moving. Unfortunately, no sound that came out of her was going into Ophelia's ears. Her attention was much too preoccupied elsewhere.

It was as if she were frozen in place, unable to look away from the image in front of her.

Theodore was leaning slightly, one arm slung lazily over the back of the bench as he murmured something to Calista Rosier. Calista, with her perfect braid and always just the right amount of rose in her cheeks. Whatever Theodore said made her giggle behind her hand, one of those delicate little sounds that were tailor-made for male attention.

Ophelia fought hard not to roll her eyes. She had never had anything against her. In truth, they had never even spoken and Ophelia was certain that the girl did not know who she was. But right now, Ophelia could not think of anything more grating to her nerves than that posh, fake giggle.

"...don't you think?" Anna's voice broke through the invisible barrier in her ears and Ophelia momentarily tore her eyes away from the scene playing in front of her. When making eye contact, she could tell that Anna was waiting for an answer to a question that Ophelia had not registered fully.

"Um...yes, surely." She went on a limb, but Anna's small smile indicated to her that she had said the right thing. She was determined to pay attention to her friend now, which is what she should have done from the first moment she started talking, but something caught from the corner of her eyes made her stop.

Calista leaned in, her hand brushing his sleeve and the small patch of skin visible, and he didn't pull away.

Ophelia's fingers clenched around her fork. Her lunch sat untouched. She lowered her eyes to it then, and started playing with the mashed potatoes.

It was fine, actually. She didn't know why she was so mad. After all, she had wanted for things to go back the way they were. If she had to be forced to marry Nott, there was no reason why they should ever be tangled in each other's business before their time.

It was simply...she didn't expect him to be so open about it. She much preferred when he used to sneak to broom closets, at least her shame was less public then. She couldn't hear what he was saying, his voice was pitched low, intimate, but the smirk on his face said enough. That careful tilt of his head, the way his fingers tapped slowly on the table, his body language exuding casual confidence.

They're only talking, no need to be so jealous about it. The voice in her mind, sounding teasing, startled her and she dropped her fork.

It clattered against the plate, forcing Anna to stop her monologue and cast a confused look over to her friend, but before she could say anything, a new voice joined them. Velvety, amused, and entirely unwelcome.

"Well, this is a first," Blaise Zabini drawled, sliding on the bench, close enough to Ophelia that their shoulders were touching. "I didn't think mashed potatoes were supposed to be intimidating."

"Go away, Zabini." She grabbed the fork once more and stabbed at a piece of chicken. The last thing she needed now was to deal with him too.

"Unless of course, it wasn't the potatoes fault." He raised an eyebrow at her and turned to look at his friend across the table. She ignored him in favour of stuffing her mouth with chicken. "In that case—"