Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Twenty-Three - Pretend

Stolen moments were all they could manage for the next few days. Disused classrooms or the Black Lake became their refuge. It wasn't just kisses or embraces, slowly they worked backwards, learning about each other. He could have listened to her ramble for hours, seeing her eyes glimmer when she revealed the mischievous schemes she concocted at Beauxbaton – he wished he'd seen it.

He never missed that flash of sadness cross her face every time she recalled her loss. Not just her parents, but that version of herself that she left behind. He hoped that one day he could offer her that happiness – with him. He wished he could cleave that pain, expel it.

He listened so earnestly and asked so honestly, that she felt no shame. She felt no guilt recalling happier moments. It did not feel like she was pretending to be healed. It did not feel like she was betraying her father by not feeling that burden in his presence. He helped her feel free.

However, there was a twinge of guilt that she could not unload his burden. He tried to talk, but he had his limits, which she couldn't hold against him.

If only she knew how he truly felt. How much she had already helped.

Before she arrived he'd just slipped through life, barely conscious of his place or reason for existing. The glimmer of life she offered had awakened his thirst and now he wanted to drink to intoxication. Her healing was instrumental to his.

He feared his own dependency on their union after such a short time. Everything felt so fragile at night, when he was alone but...in her presence, it was so splendid – so sublime. He could take the anxiety for a lifetime to have these evenings together. If that was all they would ever be allowed – he would be devastated beyond repair – but eternally grateful that their stars aligned.

He wanted her to know this, he wanted her to know how grateful he was. He wanted to open up – he would – he just needed time. But since words always failed him, actions would have to do.

~

Sitting in the common room he grew flustered. He didn't cope well when forced to stay away.

Ophelia was just sat two sofas across, chatting to Millicent and Nott. But he was only able to focus on his parchment. Watching her would be too obvious.

Alone, he didn't mind being disarmed by her - but in front of people he was left vulnerable. He couldn't pretend he didn't want her - nor could he resist touching her - so he had to keep his distance.

A bitter laugh left him, I'm in the exact same position as before - all this pretending. But it's worth it. For her.

It was all because of her, since she wasn't ready to tell people. He understood, begrudgingly.

In his opinion, he wasted no energy pandering to Blaise's feelings - nor did he think Ophelia should.

Rolling his shoulders, he readjusted his grip on his quill, and tried to keep writing. But her laugh, from across the room, punctured through him.

He wanted to be there, with her. He wanted to be normal.

Looking up, but not in her direction, he spotted Blaise. He was a few sofas away, in the other direction, chatting with Pansy.

Draco's brow furrowed as he watched them, they never talk - like that. Rolling his eyes, he looked down again, at least that friendship keeps them both off my hands.

He didn't understand why he wasn't laying in a pool of his own blood yet. Blaise was never this controlled. It was unnerving.

Thank fuck he only thinks we've kissed once.