Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Forty-Six - Afloat

Draco strode with one hand holding Ophelia's and the other shielding his eyes, as an improvised blindfold. 'This is silly,' he complained. Cautiously walking at her hip, from the cloistered courtyard, spilling onto the grounds

'Always so negative,' she teased in return - not allowing his words to affect her good mood.

At first, it was fun, if a little ridiculous. But the further they went, the more Draco was convinced it was a trick. Especially when Ophelia's guidance felt so careless. Seeing him stumble over a third tree root and only giving a light and insincere apology, in return. Draco was considering disobeying her orders and forfeiting the element of surprise.

'Behave!' She hissed with all the aggression her petite frame could muster, after noticing his hand about to drop and spoil her plan.

'I wouldn't need to see, if you were doing a better job,' he sneered, 'unless breaking my neck is the goal?'

'Paranoid much?'

'Can you blame me after the duel and this death trap?' He grumbled, abruptly stopping and yanking on her arm, with enough force to drive her into his chest.

'Don't be dramatic! Come on - before I decide you're too ungrateful for a date,' she replied, unable to keep her laughter at bay, as she resumed walking. Practically dragging her stubborn boyfriend along.

Squaring his shoulders and clenching his jaw, to hide any snarky replies. He matched her pace. Following because Ophelia asked. And realistically, it ranked low, in relation to all the other stupid things she might suggest. Directions he would follow, just to make her happy. However temporary her smile, in spite of his shame. He knew he would never be like this for anyone else. So why waste it?

After Defence Against the Dark Arts, they were running on adrenaline. Planning to bunk off for the rest of the day, they headed straight to the seventh floor. Racing down corridors and up flights of stairs. Their hopes were dashed by an unfortunate encounter with Professor Slughorn.

He instantly read their intentions and walked them to class. Using the excuse that he needed Draco's help, carrying a substantial tower of mason jars, filled with all kinds of creepy crawlies. From intricately patterned beetles, with snapping pincers. To hairy tarantulas, scaling the glass walls of their new home.

Ophelia regretted taking the most open route. And dreaded another painful conversation with Slughorn. I mean - he just had to go on and on about our 'irresponsible' behaviour and the bad example that sets for younger years. Like anyone cares! The hypocrite waffled on for ages - preaching about time-keeping and class attendance - which only made us late for Flitwick's lesson!

He said he wouldn't take house points or give us detention. But the way he phrased it - like he was doing us a huge favour - made me tempted to see every tarantula escape and change that condescending smile.

At least he healed the cut on Draco's forehead... Even if it cost a round of accusatory questions and raised eyebrows - I was much closer to forgiving him... Until he made me commit to the next Slug Club dinner. Asking me while Draco stood at my side, pretending not to listen, which made it so bloody awkward.

The remaining lessons were intense and gave them no time to talk or interact.

Ophelia's palms were left covered in ink and stiff after holding a quill at the same angle for hours. Unloading several essays for marking and receiving a long list of books to hunt down at the library. She was exhausted. But still sacrificed her free time, to sort the final touches for their date.

'Alright that's it-' Draco huffed, feeling a low-hanging branch smack his shoulder - something Ophelia missed while lost in thought.

'Don't you dare look - Draco Malfoy!'