The Barrows. Another pureblood family from the long lines of Slytherin ancestry. It's 1991, and Elmira and Clyde Barrows' daughter's first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has arrived.
The Wizarding World is not safe to our young O...
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"𝐒𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝?"
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The Great Hall was crowded with the clinking of gilt utensils and salvers, goblets being emptied of fruity juices and ciders, and the jeering and merriment from all pupils of Hogwarts. Everyone was crowded around the long tables, Ophelia squished to the side as Draco practically waltzed over to the table with a smug expression on his face. As he sat down, his fingers lightly grazed hers, prompting a bright flush to cross her face. He worked to pile roast beef and sprouts onto his plate, his simper lingering as he did so. She composed herself and cooled her fervid blush before saying something.
"What's up with you?" She poked his shoulder playfully as he lunged across the table for a golden-toasted bread roll. He chuckled and plopped back down.
"Why, I'm elated, Barrows." He twisted his fork and knife in his palms before diving into his plate, gingerly slicing the tender meat as he carelessly listened in on the conversation Blaise was having with another first year.
"And why's that?" Ophelia let out a breathy chuckle at his everlasting smug grin while shoving his face full with roast beef and spuds. He gulped noisily before he replied, his wares clattering upon the log table and straightened up. The glint in his sterling eyes shone mischievously in the flickering candlelight. She forked a lone sprout on her plate and smudged it around in the flaxen mustard that she'd spooned onto her salver earlier. As she chewed the sprout, the mustard pervaded her mouth with an astute tang, blotting out her tongue but made her tastebuds come alive. It reminded her of Father, for some peculiar reason.
She listened to Draco intently as she ate.
"I've challenged Potter to a wizards duel." He declared, puffing out his bosom triumphantly as he did so, catching the attention of Blaise plus a gooey-eyed Pansy. Ophelia stopped her chewing abruptly, practically choking on a large chunk of sprout. She hacked loudly, clamping her mouth over with a rolled fist.
"But that's against the rules," she scoffed, listing on her palm, elbow roosted on the varnished table.
"You're more doltish than I thought." He rolled his eyes before shifting back to his plate, tearing a lump out of the dinner roll he so graciously bent over her to get. Ophelia huffed and turned towards him.
"So who's your second?"
"You." He told through a full mouth of bread. She couldn't believe it.
"And you didn't think to ask me first?! Do you-" Draco cut her off.
