Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Four - The Sorting

''SLYTHERIN!'

It screeched right in her ear, its voice reverberating across the walls of the great hall. Keeping her fists clenched at her sides, she resisted the urge to throw the hat across the room. She could imagine it hurtling over the heads of the students, bellowing its protests aloud.

If they were going to look at her like a spectacle she would give them a show. But the rational part of her brain was delighted that she hadn't moved. She didn't think it would be a very good first impression.

This is a new start after all.

Peering up, she was confronted by disbelieving stares from the Weasleys. Just moments before the hat made its decision, she felt certain she'd be joining them. Proudly waltzing over, with a smile on her face, to take the seat Ginny had been saving.

Letting her vision widen she realised that look of surprise and intrigue was everywhere. Double-checking that her jaw hadn't hit the floor, she steadied her breathing, trying to school her features back to neutral. She wouldn't be surprised to discover someone had cast a leg-locker curse – she felt stunned to the spot.

But I have to move.

After watching the procession of first years until her turn, she knew what everyone expected. Now, she commanded herself.

Standing too fast she finally looked at her destination. Her attention catching on his eyes before she saw anything else. Fixating on their overcast grey. While walking steadily over, she recalled a ballet lesson where she'd been instructed to focus on a point to avoid dizziness. That's the only way she could explain why she felt so compelled to seek them out. She couldn't look away.

He returned her stare. She's new, obviously, but why's she here? Why now? He felt disarmed by her gaze. Why's she looking at me like that? Her face was blank, almost emotionless. He didn't understand - he couldn't read her.

He felt stuck in an unspoken competition - a duel. The loser would look away first. But she's heading right to our table...directly towards us...me. Is this personal? Fuck. He struggled to determine who had initiated the eye-contact - whose fault this was. Maybe she recognises me. I mean the whole wizarding world knows who I am – of course she does!

Fuck. She probably hates me. He was suddenly filled with dread. I look like a bloody fool for staring right back at her...what must she think? But before he could blurt out a snide remark to deflect his embarrassment, Blaise rose to his feet, extending his hand.

'Ophelia right?'

The girl turned to look at Blaise before nodding her head. Her attention stolen.

Trust Blaise to want to talk to the pretty girl immediately – she hasn't even sat down yet. I mean...she's only pretty – objectively speaking – of course. Tripping over his own thoughts, he kept his gaze guarded. He hadn't anticipated feeling irritated.

No, it makes sense that she chose to sit across from me, she's in our year after all.

Looking at the feast that just appeared, he ignored every word of Professor McGonagall's speech. The tempo of his heartbeat increasing, as he waited for someone to start conversation.

Blaise was the first to fill the silence, 'well I'm Zabini. Blaise Zabini. That's Nott, Goyle, Parkinson, Flint, Bulstrode and Malfoy.'

Ophelia followed his pointed finger back to the owner of the grey eyes. Of course. It had to be him. I just engaged in a staring contest with the spawn of an ex-death eater, how delightful!