Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Five - The Accusation

Ophelia resisted the urge to barricade herself behind the curtains of her four-poster bed. Green velvet where she'd expected red. Really? Had I? The sorting hat probably knows more than I do...

She was forced to concede that it was too early for sleep, even if she felt exhausted... and hiding is no way to proceed.

The common room was cosier than she'd expected. It retained all the characteristics of a dungeon but the four fireplaces in each corner fought to dominate, and soften, the green glow from the windows. She was aware of how magic could be manipulated and had seen some impressive installations but... something about the depths of the lake pressing so close, but not breaking through the windows, felt spectacular. She subtly hoped the merpeople would make an appearance - she'd only read about them.

The walls were dark besides a faint pattern of glistening snakes slithering across its surface. The room shaped into a large rectangle with private alcoves at its four points. Where fitted booths, luxuriously upholstered in dark-green leather, surrounded ebony tables in the middle. The rest of the space was occupied by deep velvet sofas and armchairs around every fireplace.

She sank into a pile of cushions, running a fingertip over the green brocade woven with silver thread. The entrance swung open and a rabble of Slytherins filled the room. The noise didn't bother her, as she took in her new surroundings. She watched the anxious introductions between first-year students, and the familiar chatter between older years.

Every so often, she would feel someone's questioning stare land on her. I guess it makes sense - I am new.

She would have quite happily sat with Blaise until it was socially acceptable to retreat to her bed, but they weren't left alone. Nott sat on the sofa opposite.

He wasn't very tall but his breadth made him imposing. His face was harsh, a sloping brow that cast shadows, and taut skin. While his eyes were a captivating, dark, indiscernible colour.

He was striking – not her type – but she'd understand the draw some girls felt towards him.

To his right was Flint. He didn't have to speak, she could tell from his sneer how he felt. She supposed it made sense that they would all be silently assessing her. Well, Pansy's been less than silent. She'd taken the spot of leaning, with her arms outstretched, across the back of the boy's sofa - like their own personal bodyguard. How dramatic.

Pansy was rather plain. Not unattractive but not noteworthy. Her hair was strictly cut into a well-manicured bob, and her outfit was neatly pressed.

Her particularly round nose was sat between dull brown eyes and thin lips. Her attention to detail proved she cared about her appearance, but Ophelia struggled to look past her pinched glare. She does herself no favours.

Phi tried to relax her jaw and her brow. She wanted to look as unfazed by this display as possible. She refused to run from their frosty reception.

Malfoy headed for the armchair on her right. While he shuffled into the space, about to sit down, his knee glided against hers. His touch was so faint that she barely recognised it had happened.

But this contact was immediately driven from her mind when her body was forced to focus on something else.

It all happened so fast she believed her head was playing tricks on her. The pendant on her necklace burned with a furious heat. She couldn't hold back her wince as she looked down. Below her shirt a small red mark now stained her chest.

What the - she felt startled - unable to pretend that it was a figment of her imagination. Who would do this? Peering upwards she assessed the potential suspects. Pansy wouldn't be so brazen to jinx my necklace. And I've not provoked anyone... They wouldn't even have noticed it, tucked under my shirt...