Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Thirteen - The Meeting

'Wake up!'

Ophelia rolled onto her back, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She resisted her instinct to flinch, as Millicent came into view, leaning against her bed post.

Still disturbed by her nightmare, Ophelia's breathing was erratic. Her heart rate was still recovering, as she tried to settle.

Pressing her hands into the mattress beneath her, she tried to reconnect with reality. The visions had felt so real, she feared this was all another hallucination - a figment of her imagination.

But the soft smile on Millicent's face felt reassuring. This is real, she repeated in her mind.

And she could assume her silencing charm had worked since her friend was looking cheerful rather than alarmed.

A shiver worked its way down her spine as she considered the embarrassment of being caught. Plastering a smile on her face she forced herself to forget the images that had just tormented her.

Shifting under the duvet, she moved to check her reflection in the mirror on her bedside table. Frowning at the girl staring back at her, well I look dreadful. Propping up her pillows, she leaned back against them.

This slight movement led her to a delightful discovery. The tenderness between her legs made her flush with heat, the proof in her muscles of what happened last night.

'Morning,' her voice groggy.

'Holy shit!' Millicent gawked.

'What?' Ophelia's face flashed back to the mirror.

'Oh c'mon Phi don't be coy – I know a hickey when I see one!'

She twisted her neck at an awkward angle until she could see the pattern of red bruises, 'shit!'

'Looks like Blaise feasted on your neck,' Tracey teased, having hurried over to see the cause of Millicent's fuss, 'that's why you came to bed so late! I just thought innocent Phi had been studying!'

'You idiot – didn't you hear the headlines?'

'What?' Ophelia's head whirled back to face the girls, her eyes wide.

'Well, the news spread like wildfire after people saw you practically having sex at the Three Broomsticks!'

'We – we weren't!' she stammered, 'who the hell said that?'

'I'm not sure really,' Millicent shrugged, 'oh but don't worry about it! Everyone knows it's been sensationalised – or I should say skeeter-ised!'

'Pardon?' Ophelia was frowning, her voice panicked.

'Shit – I forget you've no clue. Well basically Skeeter – Rita Skeeter – is this trashy journalist who writes for the Daily Prophet. It's drivel but ridiculously entertaining if you don't take her stories as fact.'

'Great – so you're saying people now want to believe I had sex in public, even if they know logistically that makes no sense?'

'Exactly,' Millicent scoffed, unable to resist.

'Fuck me!' Ophelia moaned, thwacking her head back onto the pillow.

'Oi, I can call Blaise in here – that's definitely his job!' Tracey winked, before bursting into a series of snorts and giggles at her own joke.

'Stop! I need help – what do I do?' her alarm now obvious to the girls.

Millicent shrugged again, 'not much really, just make sure it's covered!'