Tied

Chapter Thirty-One: Ophelias Are Flowers, Too

"Charlie, I don't think proceeding with this plan is a good idea." Ophelia said, standing in Charlie's bedroom in the Manour.

"We have to get rid of her now! Before she gets to Hogwarts and that window will be closed tomorrow don't you see it Ophelia! This is our last, hope!" He shouted, grabbing the woman by her shoulders. A wild looked had seized his onyx eyes, and Ophelia was ton between looking away and continuing to stare.

"Charlie, we have to see what she becomes. If she'll even become a threat." Ophelia cautioned, trying to brush off his tight hold on her shoulders.

"And why would we want that? She might seize the chance, and then her powers will be revealed. We must take action, now." He said, his anger declining.

"Charlie, it is unwise-." Ophelia did again, before Charlie put a finger to her lips.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think that you didn't want this girl to die, Ophelia." He said, throwing his other arm out behind him in a maniacal gesture.

"No, of course not." She had to do something that would distract him, something at all. She had seen so much life in the girls, Margo's, eyes and she couldn't bear to have someone so young with so much passion to become something just die.

"Now, we're going-." Ophelia did the first thing she could think to do, despite how much it disgusted her. She pulled Charlie around, and met her mouth with his. She screwed her eyes shut, willing herself to ignore everything that was happening.

He traced his hands up and down her slim figure, and she kept repeating to herself exactly why she was doing what she was doing. She was going to keep this girl alive as long as she could. She was her own self-promoted distraction.

And somehow, it worked. She was able to distract him with herself, trapping him in a flimsy cardboard cage.

Ophelia prayed to god that Margo would make it to Hogwarts while Charlie was still sleeping.