𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖 - 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞

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╭────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────╮

𝐃

If I ever loved anything in Ophelia, it is that she could read me like one of her books; easily, quickly and tirelessly.

She knew that I liked her. Maybe she had her doubts and maybe she didn't realise what else was going through my head as I was getting closer, but she knew. She always knew.

Filch always preferred surveilling the moving stairs or the Gryffindor Tower, because it was always the Gryffindors that liked to sneak out after hours. Therefore, we easily managed to escape the dungeons and made our way to the yard through the kitchens. We passed Hagrid's hut and immobilized the Whomping Willow. Ahead of us, the Black Lake was only visible through the tranquil reflection of the moon.

"You seem to know your way around," said Ophelia.

The moon was in its Waning Crescent phase, although still vibrant. We lit our wands and were careful with our steps. I had to keep being careful of the tone of my voice. I was strangely finding myself walking in a strained manner, pointedly relaxed and effortlessly careful. I didn't want to stumble. Of course, back then I was so self-absorbed that I persuaded myself that I always walked in such a cool manner. I was such a bad liar when it came to myself.

"I do that a lot actually," I said.

"Never during the night I assume," she said.

"You would assume wrong."

"And you always do that in an expensive suit that you could easily ruin?" She showed me from head to toe provocatively.

"At least I blend in..."

I watched Ophelia carry the blanket close to her chest. Soon I felt like an arse for not offering to carry it for her.

"Give me that," I snapped and grasped the blanket off her hands. Why couldn't I be nice to her for once?

"The chivalry," she said, her voice reeking irony.

"You're funny," I scoffed. I didn't want to leave any trace of ordinary acts of kindness. If they existed, they had to remain concealed.

It wasn't far. To reach the old oak tree, we had to pass through the narrow path, where the wild trees of the Forbidden Forest touched the banks of the Black Lake. There, we hopped from rock to rock. I had done that a hundred times, yet I was afraid this would be the night when I would fall in the shallow waters below.

I hopped on the grass in relief. Ophelia was still struggling to accurately spot the slippery rocks.

"You know you may look like an asshole but I am beginning to suspect that you actually are an asshole. Who the hell doesn't offer a hand to help?" she said pointedly. "Well, at least 8 years of ballet classes didn't go to complete waste." This one, she muttered, like she didn't want to be heard.

"Well, come on then. What's taking so long."

"Odile's coda isn't half as hard..." she kept muttering and scoffing as she put her foot gently on the last rock. She ran her shoe over the surface a few times to determine the most stable place to step on.

"Harder than Odile's coda? How dramatic of you..."

I bet she didn't expect me to know what Odile's coda was and, indeed, if I didn't play the piano and if Mother wasn't a friend of the fine arts, I wouldn't know about this legendary ballet act.

She opened her eyes widely. She never would have seen this coming. She had watched me snob paintings in a museum less than a month ago. I had called her moral philosophy 'cute' just a few minutes prior. I could see why she was surprised and I revelled in the knowledge of something as particular as Odile's coda.

𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑂 𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐹𝑂𝑌Where stories live. Discover now