Pulling Strings - Theodore Nott

38. The measure of a man

What had begun as a few harmless raindrops had already become a downpour. It happened suddenly. One moment she was walking, one or two droplets falling into her head and before she had even time to cast an Impervius charm on herself, the heavy rain had descended upon her with all its fury.

Seeing as she was drenched in a matter of seconds, her hand no longer went looking for her wand, due to the futility of it. Instead, she hastily ran toward the nearest roof she could find, which, as it turned out, was much farther away than she had first hoped.

The path that led to the Owlery offered little protection. It climbed steadily over the open grounds behind the castle, a narrow path of dirt bordered by wet grass that now bent under the force of the rain. The castle itself loomed somewhere behind her, its towers already blurred by the grey curtain of water.

Wind drove the rain sideways, stinging against her face and plastering her hair against her cheeks. Within seconds her robes clung heavily to her legs, each step sending small splashes of muddy water up around her ankles. Ahead, the tall stone tower of the Owlery stood alone on the rise, dark and unwelcoming against the storm. Its high windows gaped open to the sky, offering little promise of shelter.

Ophelia cursed under her breath and hurried forward anyway, lowering her head against the rain as the downpour soaked through her sleeves and collar. For a moment, darkness enveloped her until her eyes adjusted to the new setting. Inside the tower, she took a second to gather herself and her increased heart rate.

Merlin, she was really out of shape if she grew agitated from a small run.

Once she was breathing properly again, she began to climb the many steps toward the top of the tower, making haste in the small patches where there was no roof to shelter her and staying far away from the open windows.

By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she had left a muddy trail behind her and the scene outside was grey from the torrent. Her boots made a disgusting squelching sound from the water inside them and the shifting of her wet clothes wasn't that far behind. She was being way too loud.

Which, in hindsight, may have been responsible for what happened next.

A flash of light blinded her, cutting through the darkness like a whip, and her legs locked together on the final step of the stairs. The sudden stiffness pitched her forward.

Someone shouted. She didn't know whether it was her or another person.

Before her face could meet the unforgiving stone floor, a pair of arms caught her around the waist and dragged her upright with surprising force.

"Merlin's—" Draco Malfoy's voice snapped somewhere nearby. "I thought someone was following us!"

Ophelia blinked the light from her eyes. When her vision cleared, she found herself half-leaning against Theodore, his grip still firm around her waist. She stifled a groan. Brilliant.

"What the fuck?" Her first words were muttered, barely there, but when she finally regained her balance and her mind caught up on what had happened, her voice rose. "What the fuck, Malfoy?!"

In a desperate attempt to regain some dignity, she started to push Theodore's hands away from her, trying to stand on her own, but when he released her and she immediately swayed once more, leaning dangerously close to the floor, his hands were back in place. She only sent a furious look his way, but quickly realised it was useless since his eyes were nowhere near her, instead they were glaring at the boy in front of them.

"What are you doing here, Selwyn? Are you following us?" Malfoy spat the question at her, showing no remorse for blindingly casting a spell towards her. His shoulders were high, in a defensive stance and a sneer was as usual decorating his face.