Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Eight - Patronus

'Delacour and...let me see...Malfoy.'

Ophelia resisted rolling her eyes. Great. They'd been paired together in Defence against the Dark Arts.

Ron sent her a sympathetic glance before turning back to his partner, Hermione.

Unwilling to met him halfway, she stood her ground. Forcing him to prowl over. His face was riddled with arrogance, as his disdainful eyes travelled the length of her body.

She resisted the urge to look down and check there wasn't some stain or tear she'd missed on her robes.

If she'd learnt anything yet - he would classify that as a victory. Looking down would be admitting she cared, that she was insecure. It would concede that he had any effect on her at all.

Which is true - he did. But she would hide any evidence of that fact. She didn't want to be added to the list of his cowering victims. Let him struggle to work me out.

Still an excessive distance apart, their bodies stiff, as they committed to silence.

I wish this was duelling. She smiled at the thought.

She would disarm him before stunning him and then the fun would commence. She stifled a giggle at his imaginary horror-stricken face. That would be enough...for now...

Despite his glare, his expression was unreadable. A cold muted look that let her anxiety run wild. At best, he looks at everyone this way. At worst, this look is reserved for people he hates.

Well, who doesn't a Malfoy hate? Himself? By the looks of things he's a walking oxymoron.

He wants to be treated like God's gift but is punishing everyone around him - as though they should be sensitive - and tip-toe around his self-hating tendencies.

Her breath hitched as she realised how close he stood. It was totally disconcerting.

I've not had a reason to be this close to her since the first night, he thought. She smells good...very good actually...vaguely floral and sweet. He forced his nose to wrinkle at the thought – she's infiltrating my senses. How disgusting.

'Attention!' called Professor Proudfoot, 'this week's homework will be an ongoing project till the end of term, where I will have you perform a Patronus... I trust you all to arrange meetings with your partners, if necessary, to perfect this spell...'

Ophelia was jealous of the students who had already mastered it. She watched the stag, terrier and otter dance across the walls. Their silver forms playfully weaving between one another. As comfortable in each other's company as their sires.

She caught Draco staring intensely at them, only stopping when he turned to glare at her.

I don't like being watched - fucking examined - fucking spy. His grasp tightened around his wand as he suppressed the instinct to blast her from the room.

Proudfoot interrupted his silent battle, 'remember students, you have to access a powerful happy memory, and focus, to be successful.'

Ophelia looked down at her hands, digging her nails into each palm. Well I'm going to be useless.

Draco saw the sadness cloud her eyes. Why does she look so sorry for herself? Nobody is as fucking tortured as me. She better not be able to do it. I'd die on the spot if I was the first to fail.

God she'd fucking love that. Bitch. She'd put that straight into her little report. He rolled his shoulders, that can't happen.

They both secretly wished that neither would ask to arrange a meeting. They were both perfectly capable of working alone.