Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Thirty-Nine - Touch

'I-I don't know what you want me to say,' she stammered - hopelessly staring at him.

'Tell me about tonight...I'm intrigued,' he sneered sarcastically.

'Like what?'

'Ophelia,' he warned in a slow drawl - elongating each vowel to sound more disapproving. And provocatively arching his brow - challenging her to stop being evasive.

She looked at him in a daze - stunned to the same spot. Her subtly intoxicated brain too slow to adjust to the situation.

She was unsure what to say, since it wasn't clear where she'd gone wrong. And she didn't know whether to take the lead and sit beside him - despite his abrasive manner.

'Who approached who?' He snapped impatiently. Not knowing that Ophelia's mind was muddled with uncertainty - he mistakenly took her silence as proof of a guilty conscience.

'Slughorn sat us next to each other, it was sort of mutual-'

Like a switch his demeanour instantly darkened. 'Mutual?' He repeated for clarification, 'and what – now you're friends?'

'I-I guess – I don't know,' she cringed while analysing the stern look on his face, 'it was just impossible not to speak to him and he was being friendly-'

'So it's that easy?' He coldly interrupted, while tossing his newspaper aside, 'it takes one dinner to earn your forgiveness?'

Her lacklustre excuse only elevated his temper - the crippling sensation overtaking his body. So, he decided to act out.

Grasping his wand, he started muttering under his breath. Then, twisted his wrist into a tight circle, which sent a direct shot of flames towards the crumpled newspaper.

He cruelly smiled to himself, hearing the little gasp erupt from Ophelia - who wasn't prepared to see him in this mood.

But he liked watching the Daily Prophet wither away. The edges melting down to a pile of ash, which he carefully swept off the velvet sofa cushion.

Reading its contents only ever sent him into a depressive spiral. From articles about his family - to articles about people he once considered family - it was all too painful. Too hurtful to read.

Not because he disagreed. Between the gossip and lies - the truth remained. The reality nobody could escape.

But his prop was now useless. He didn't need to appear busy, since his reason for staying awake entered the room... But with him. Joking and laughing like the best of friends...like more than friends. Fuck! Here I am - her waiting fool - while she spends an evening with him.

Everything I planned for tonight is ruined...

And I told him – I warned him to stay away from her. But typical stubborn Blaise can't follow any orders. Can't do one thing right!

Couldn't keep her.

Couldn't stop me.

Really, I'm surprised he lasted a week. That's the longest amount of time he's used his brain. Now...now he has no clue what he's fucking in for.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Ophelia flinched - physically reeling from the force behind his statement. The suggestion that it was a sign of weakness to forgive Blaise.

'Do you not remember him calling you a slut? Or how he forced you to pay him attention – the way he manhandled you-'

'-Draco, please!'