Pulling Strings - Theodore Nott

39. A series of poor decisions

Be careful.

Be careful?

Careful with what?

Ophelia sighed, blowing out a puff of air which moved a strand of hair out of her face in the process. Those blasted words wouldn't leave her alone. Whatever did Theodore mean with that? What did he know that she didn't—

Okay, that was a stupid question. A lot of things, actually.

Ophelia didn't know anything about anything, and she was getting fed up with it.

Professor Binns was monologuing about some ancient war or something of the sort that should be really captivating and interesting but judging by the choir of yawns in the classroom, she could tell everyone felt the same way about it— bored. She was fiddling with her quill, drawing lines and the sort on her previously clean parchment, when a hard elbow on her arm knocked the quill out of her hand, spilling ink all over the parchment and ruining her precious doodles in the way.

When she caught Anna's eyes to silently ask her what was her problem, she found her staring at her and then to something behind her, not very subtly telling her to look.

It was not needed though, Professor Binns would never have noticed if Ophelia turned from her seat. He wouldn't even notice if she stood up and walked out of the classroom, to be honest. So, she turned her attention to the back of the classroom—and her heart stopped in her chest.

There, standing behind the half-open door, illuminated by the torches of the corridor, was her brother, Phineas.

Ophelia froze for a moment and could do nothing more than study her brother's stance. He was standing straight, his arms were crossed over his chest and he looked serious, which wasn't out of the ordinary and shouldn't worry her, but upon a closer look, she noticed that in one hand he was carrying a suspiciously familiar piece of parchment. The letter.

It didn't take much for Ophelia to start panicking, but Phineas' little head nod, calling her to step out of the classroom just sealed the deal. There was no way out of it. Taking a deep breath, Ophelia slowly got up from her chair, trying her best not to make a sound, and finally started walking towards the door. A few heads turned, clearly being more interested in whatever was happening with her than in the class, and she tried not to linger in the fact that one of those was Theodore's. His eyes on her, as always, carried more weight than anybody else's.

Phineas stepped out fully into the corridor when she made it to the door, which she made sure to leave ajar, not only to not make another sound but also because—stupidly and naively— in some recess of her mind, she felt safer knowing she was not completely cut off from other people.

Which was dumb, they were in a corridor, lots of people walk by it at all times.

Except now, it seemed. It was as deserted as it would be in the middle of the night. Phineas' eyebrow raised at the motion, noticing her hidden intentions, but thankfully didn't comment on it. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and held the letter in front of her face, at eye level. "Did you leave this in my room?"

Do not hesitate.

"No."

Phineas scoffed. "Don't lie to me, Thomas told me you were there this morning, looking for a book," he said, stressing out the word. "But I know my sister, so...did you leave this in my nightstand today?"

Ophelia swallowed harshly, forcing the lump in her throat to go down without much success. This was it, she had no other move. Thomas had told on her, that rat! She couldn't keep denying it.

"I did but—" She gasped as her brother seized her forearm, the pain knocking the words from her mouth. She stared at his fingers digging into her shirt sleeve, at the whitening knuckles and the tense grip that refused to loosen. Heat throbbed beneath his hand. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his face. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her stomach twist. "Phineas—"