Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Seven - The Tour

Ophelia couldn't resist preening herself after dinner. She had dismissed the delicious array, settling for a sandwich, just so she had enough time to put on something nicer than her robes. It's the weekend after all.

Checking the clock, she felt flustered, when she realised the time. Pushing the door ajar she heard her name being mentioned down the corridor.

She couldn't resist. Slowly moving the door open, she crept closer to the owner of that voice. Lingering in the passage between the dormitories and the common area, she was safely hidden in shadows. Craning her neck she focused on eavesdropping.

'Well, she seems nice!'

'Nice?!' Pansy made a retching noise, 'nobody asked for your opinion Millicent.'

'You're being irrational' Nott rebutted, 'you've been cleared, McGonagall let you back, why –'

'I don't trust her,' Pansy leered.

'Neither.'

Draco's cold tone sliced at Ophelia's insides. Confronted with the reality that they were still discussing her – that they had not given up – was disheartening.

He had only needed to say one word to have Ophelia reeling. That's what he thinks? He's foolish enough to agree? How do they expect to trust me when they are unwilling to get to know me? They have no good reason to assume the worst. Bloody hell. I'm not going to listen to this.

Her only respite was Millicent's kind words and Nott's attempt to defend her. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. Strutting out as confidently as her limbs would allow.

'Where do you think you're going dressed like that?' Pansy snarled.

She couldn't help herself, 'I'm meeting Blaise.'

She's nosier than I thought. I'm hardly dressed up. But Ophelia supposed they hadn't seen her in anything besides her uniform. Plus, they're probably not used to muggle fashion.

She had opted for light-wash blue jeans that hugged her curves and a green turtleneck. While no skin was exposed, her shape was evident, even if it was the most casual of options.

Nott teased her with a wink, 'we all know what that means,' before nudging a stone-faced Malfoy, suggestively.

'Shut up Nott,' Blaise spoke as he sauntered into the room.

Shit - he knows how to make an entrance, she felt her jaw slacken, as she exhaled.

Turning to Phi with a bright smile, he took her hand. Looking her up and down, he spoke in a low voice 'you ready?'

All she could do was nod as he whisked her off.

Fuck. She should be looking at me like that, I should be her target. No! What am I thinking – I'm disgusted by her, and she hates me. She wants to catch me out. But here I am wanting to fraternise with the enemy? It's sick.

She wants to make up evidence to prosecute me... She's the enemy. Draco suppressed the urge to watch her backside as she walked away.

Chucking his parchment and quill onto the table, his hands balled into fists. I can't concentrate on this Transfiguration essay now.

Great - all she has to do is walk through the room and I can no longer do anything productive besides think about her.

Weak - fucking weak. You can shag anybody if that's what this is? Someone else can satisfy this...this perversion.