I stumbled out the common room, my chest tightening and constricting like I was being strangled by a snake, its skin dragging around my throat as it squeezed.

The shadows made by the lights created shapes around me, hands reaching for me, suffocating me,

I raced down corridors, tears chocking their way out my throat as I covered my mouth.

I stopped at a quiet corridor, leaning against the wall covering my face as the tears fell thick and fast.

Lucas. With fae, my friend?!

"Clark, are you okay?" I snap my head up, Marcus Flint coming into view.

I sniffle and nod, leaning up from the wall.

"I'm fine Marcus, just drank way to much. I should probably head back to my dorm and sleep."

He walks closer, examining my face, his hand reaching up and cupping my chin.

"You look stunning, you know that right? Nobody could keep their eyes off you...Even Malfoy was eyeing you up when you danced with Kingsley."

I looked down, his hand bringing my face back up with protest.

" you are.." He bites his lip "you look tasty Clark"

He leans closer again, closing me against the wall, his hand trailing down from my chin, down past my neck, trailing to my breasts and faltering, his hands grazing over them.

"Flint, stop it. I'm flattered but, i really dont want too do anything with-"

He shoves me against the wall, his lips crashing onto mine, his tongue invading my mouth, it sliding around like a slug.

I try pushing him off, his body not even faltering as he grabs my dress up, slipping under and feeling in between my legs.

"FLINT. Please stop i dont-"

He covers my mouth, his mouth leaving sloppy marks and kisses down my neck, his other hand trailing over my pants.

STOP PLEASE.

He grunted, I could feel him getting hard. His legs trapping me in place as he continued to touch me, his lips handing on my exposed cleavage. Moving his hand from between my legs, he rips my dress, pulling it down over my bra, his leg pressing me into the wall as I cried.

I dont want this, I dont want this. He's going to hurt me, and I cant stop him.

************

Ophelia Clark stumbles from the table, the empty bottle abandoned and forgotten on the table.

Fuck sake. She's a mess.

I groan, standing from the table, deciding to find her before she falls down the stairs or ends up kissing a guy she doesnt like.

Ophelia Clark didn't enter my mind at all, until I saw her on the train at the start of the year.

She had grown into her body, her lips becoming fuller, her breasts...

She is stunning, and i wanted to feel her, touch her.

But she also looked broken, like something was hiding behind her, threatening to spill out of her if you asked her the wrong question.

I leave the common room, dodging the dancing people and the couples groping each other in corners of the room...charming.

Noticing the cold air compared to the hot sweaty room of the party, I adjust my blazer.

Jesus, how can a woman in her state still walk so fast?

I wander down some corridors, seeing no signs of life.

Jesus she must be freezing.

I walk past a couple making out in the corridor, avoiding their eyes i walk past quickly, but then stop.

That's Marcus Flint, and hes cornered Ophelia.

I see red, my blood boiling as I race towards them, my eyes glazed over with a red haze. My fist connect with his jaw, a crack echoing around the hall as he stumbles back shocked.

I climb on top of him and I start swinging my fists.

Hit after hit, back and forth.

"You disgusting...piece...of shit.."

another hit....

"thinking you could touch her...thinking that she would be okay..."

another hit...

"with..you...every touching her..."

My fist connects with his nose, a spray of blood splattering onto the floor.

"Thinking that you deserve to touch...her....feel her...taste her...."

He limps lifeless on the floor, his face cut and bruised vetoing recognition. I hope he dies.

I lean off of him, glancing to Ophelia.

She had slumped to the floor, her eyes glazed over as tears fell, her dress was ripped, her bra exposed, the bruises of his hands already beginning to appear on her thigh.

I crawled towards her, wiping her hair away from her face and moving her dress to cover her bra, trying to keep her dignified.

She doesn't respond, her eyes blank...empty.

He has broken a part of her.

"Clark? Ophelia Clark? It's Draco...Draco Malfoy. Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

She doesn't respond, instead tears continued to fall.

I stand, picking up Ophelia

I could have called for help, I could have shouted and found Sarah, or left her for someone else to help her.

I am a dickhead, but I don't want to be a dickhead to Miss Ophelia Clark.

******************