❝ 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧... ❞
theodore nott x fem oc
*very slow burn*
this book is written for, and dedicated to all swifties out there.
rated mature for explicit violence, graphic de...
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THE SCENT OF CLEAN SHEETS and the sensation of lying amidst the clouds was what greeted Ophelia Malfoy as she slipped back into consciousness from the fall from her broom. The first thing she felt was the ebbing ache in her back, and a hushed conversation with muffled voices that sounded far away, but were actually just a few feet away from her bed.
Her eyes felt heavy to open, but after struggling for a few seconds, she could finally see. Once again, she was at the hospital wing. Ophelia had been here more times than she would have liked. Judging by the dim flickering glow the candlelight cast on the walls, Ophelia assumed it was somewhere around midnight.
A painful groan slipped past her lips when she tried to sit up but underestimated the strength of her injuries. Ophelia's groaned alerted Madam Pomfrey that she was awake, causing the healer to rush over with brisk steps and a vial containing a purplish liquid that did not look very appetizing.
Madam Pomfrey told her to drink the purple fluid, and Ophelia's pains all faded a few seconds later. Thankfully, she landed on a thick layer of snow, so none of her injuries were serious.
After a final checkup, she was discharged, and given permission to go back to her dormitory. Her stomach growled loudly, and she was starving, but she couldn't eat. Not now. Not when she was so close to her goal.
Before the blonde could take two steps, Ophelia found herself pinned to the wall, and face to face with Theodore Nott.
"What the hell were you thinking?" The Nott heir's tone was sharp and demanding, his dark eyes boring into hers.
His grip was firm on her shoulders, as he held her in place, but not painful.
"I... I d-don't...." His actions caught her off-guard, at such a vulnerable moment, and she found her eyes watering. "What?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Ophelia," Theodore growled. Ophelia could see the vein in his neck pulsing with anger, and she could see his fists balling as he refrained from punching something. "Have you been eating?"
She didn't answer. She didn't have time for this. She couldn't do this, it was mentally exhausting.
"I don't see how that's your business, Nott—"
"BULLSHIT!" Theodore roared, causing the Gryffindor to flinch with a small gasp. "You could have been seriously injured! Are you TRYING to kill yourself?"
"I'm... not..." Ophelia now had tears streaming down her cheeks, as a choked sob escaped her lips. She was vulnerable, and scared, and she hated the fact that Theodore had managed to make herself feel so helpless once more.
"Let me ask you one question, Ophelia," Theodore inhaled, then exhaled, as if he were trying to calm himself down from absolutely losing it. His gaze had softened slightly, yet his anger had not dissipated completely. She could still see the vein in his neck ticking. "Did you eat anything?"
