Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Fifteen - McGonagall

Again, really? Her hand reached for her necklace, which had left another unwelcome mark on her chest. I have to work out what's happening.

If she couldn't find the culprit, she'd have to do some investigating. It has to be related to magic.

Easing out of bed she rushed to the shower. She wanted to clean every inch of her body. Her throat felt hoarse from screaming, and her muscles were weak. Barely able to stay standing until she was completely washed, the idea of breakfast made her nauseous.

Dressing, she wrapped the scarf around her neck, recalling that problem still needed solving.

~

Following a rough map of the school drawn on a scrap of parchment, she made her first journey to the library. The safe haven she'd chosen for that morning.

Her mouth flew open when she saw the breadth of the school's collection. It would take millennia to read even half... Every surface was covered in a variety of books, from leather-bound tomes to smaller manuscripts. The air was thick with the combined smell of dust, parchment and wax.

'Can I help you?' A strict face startled her, appearing from behind a stack of books, she'd mistaken for a shelf.

'No – no, I'm fine thank you,' she mumbled, slightly perturbed by the woman's demeanour. Sneering down from her hooked nose, she seemed to be assessing the threat Ophelia posed to the books, rather than genuinely offering assistance.

She felt so unwelcome that she didn't inquire about books on cursed artefacts. She didn't know where to start looking - or even, what questions to ask - to find answers for her necklace's behaviour. But books on that topic had been her first thought.

I can look myself...or ask another time...

Hurrying past, she traipsed through the different sections. Her eyes widening as she familiarised herself with the labyrinth of books, that had somehow been organised into sensible categories. The route she took made little sense, when every shelf met a disjointed end, she had to choose which way to turn.

Before she started to worry about getting lost, she was pleased to find a red-head leaning over a length of parchment. What a happy accident. By the state of him, and the stack of coffee mugs, he'd certainly spent the night working. Textbooks were scattered across the desk, opened at a variety of pages.

For a moment she watched him, scowling at his work, his quill hovering for a long time, as the right words escaped him.

'That your charms essay?' She giggled as her voice startled him.

He smiled sheepishly, 'yes it's a little last-minute. I'd never normally skip breakfast.'

An irritable 'shhh,' travelled over to them, which Ophelia assumed belonged to the librarian. Rolling her eyes she muttered sarcastically, 'isn't she delightful.'

'Madam Pince? Yeah, she's a treat. She once jinxed Harry's books to attack him,' shaking his head at the memory.

Ophelia felt struck by guilt for not spending more time with Ron and Ginny, having rarely sought them out. Nor had she visited the Gryffindor common room as they'd suggested. But between schoolwork and dealing with the Slytherins, she'd been too distracted.

Ron pulled out a chair for her to sit beside him. Looking back down at his work as he teased, 'I wouldn't have pegged you as a girl that went for Blaise.'

She blushed in embarrassment. She'd forgotten he'd seen Blaise kiss her after Pansy's outburst. Idiot. Plus, he'd probably heard the rumours circulating about the date. She cringed at the thought, what must he think?