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Chapter 9: Midnight
A/N: 120 reviews missing - cheer me up and leave some comments please!
Warnings: Strong language and the possibility of scenes of a mild sexual nature/ mild violence.
NB: Some very noticeable spelling changes have been made. Point the rest out to me and I'll change those as well. Sorry for any confusion in previous readings!
'Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary' - Edgar Allan Poe
Two sodding weeks.
He still hadn’t come crawling back yet.
He was stubborn that was it.
But I was more stubborn! Aha, he could not beat me.
I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t obsessing about it. I wasn’t spending my waking thoughts trying to understand why in the hell he hadn’t given in yet. My thoughts weren’t whizzing round and round in my head, causing me to flinch with anger at several moments. My hands didn’t keep clenching into fists and I didn’t keep thinking about how close he’d stood next to me during the last argument…
No. Definitely not thinking about that.
I was in the right and just because his over inflated head got the wrong impression did not mean that I had to bow down to him and explain and apologise.
I’d sooner serenade Filch than do that.
Eugh – yucky images.
He just needed to be taught that sometimes he couldn’t get everything his own way and that he couldn’t throw his toys out of the pram all the time. It was his stupid fault for being too stupid and stupidly thinking stupid thoughts about stupid things.
He was just stupid.
All these problems could have been avoided if his brain had worked, his thoughts had been logical and the levers in his head had moved to open his mouth so he could politely ask why that scum bag had been attempting to force himself onto me. Instead somewhere along the way the levers and thoughts got confused, the wiring exploded and all that came from all that brain effort was that he accused me, yes little old me, of being a boyfriend snatcher when he himself was dating that prime specimen. If only he hadn’t been an ignorant pig with a wiring malfunction then this would never have happened and I wouldn’t be awake in the early hours with Wood’s face looming in my thoughts.
His tanned, chiselled face and slightly longer than average hair that-
Exhaling deeply I stared blankly up at the canopy of my bed and wondered for what must have been the fiftieth time that night why I couldn’t sleep. My bed was lovely and cosy, I hadn’t had any caffeine or sugar to keep me awake and I hadn’t been reading to make my mind too active.
No…it was stupid Wood that was keeping me awake...and not in a good way either.
Not that I wanted him to keep me awake in a good way, I mean that’s-
You know, that’s not the point right now. The point is…um…never mind.
Rolling my head to the side, I glanced at the watch strapped to the wrist of the arm flung next to my head. The silent ticking of the dragon’s tail through the seconds confirmed my fears.
Midnight…and I wasn’t asleep.
I was one of those people who no matter what time they’re woken up can never fall back to sleep again. It’s almost as if my body is sleepy but my mind is active and I just can never switch off my thoughts. Stupid brain, it never cooperates.
One sheep…two sheep…three sheep…wool…jumpers…knitting…needles…pins…pointy objects…hurting Wood.
Oh why is the train of thought so predictable? Why can’t I just go to sleep and have nice lovely dreams of candy clouds and fairies? Why is my brain just ticking through the minutes waiting for the sun to come up and the day to start? Must I spend the next seven hours counting the golden squares on the bed hanging?
When this usually happens I end up getting this craving for food. Not just any food mind – chocolate biscuits. Whilst others class their weaknesses as bitching, vanity or falling in love too easily I class mine as the delectable treat of the circular chocolate variety. Who cares about looks, school or boys when you can sink your teeth into the luxury of a crumbly chocolate digestive? I bet if we distributed chocolate biscuits to everyone in the world I bet that would solve all the world’s problems and stop the wars. Just think of all the trouble that could have been avoided if some kind soul had merely offered Voldemort a chocolate digestive! It’s all very logical really…
Eugh, I really did need some sleep.
Chocolate biscuits were filling my brain, dancing through my thoughts in all their juicy deliciousness. I really really really wanted one, my stomach was groaning in agreement and saliva was beginning to form in anticipation of that luscious first bite. The crumble of the grains, the melting of the chocolate-
Okay. Biscuits were desperately needed right now before I turned into a drooling mass right then.
Comfort food…to help get me past these horrible Wood induced nightmares.
Leaning over the side of the bed, opening my side cupboard door and sticking my hand in only to meet thin air. Rooting around in there for several long and agonising seconds I concluded that yes, nothing was to be found in the hidden depths. Leaning over the side of the bed for final confirmation, my gaze deduced that my biscuits were not inside. Frowning slightly as my stomach grumbled, I straightened up again wondering where my biscuits were. That was my secret supply as well! Ok…one of my secret supplies. But still – what had happened to them? I’d hadn’t had any for days, I’d been trying to go cold turkey. So who had taken them….?
“Indy!” I hissed as I noticed the empty packet lying on the floor next to her bed. Damn her! This just proves you should never tell your friends your secrets, especially when it comes to supplies of biscuits. Well, see if I ever shared anything with her again!
Rolling out of bed, stuffing my feet into my bunny slippers and firmly placing my hands on my hips, I took a grim stance. This called for ‘secret-operation-biscuit-supply-run-out-so-must-retrieve-more-from-kitchen.’
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Two bloody weeks and she still hadn’t given in.
She was stubborn. But I was more stubborn. If she thought I’d cave first she had it highly mistaken.
I wasn’t laying here at midnight, staring at my pillow wondering why this infuriating girl was getting to me so much.
I wasn’t contemplating that incident two weeks ago, feeling a mixture of hurt and anger at catching her with that git Billy McGuiness.
I mean Billy McGuiness of all people, a guy who’s known more for his precision placed locks of hair rather than his personality. Why had she gone for him in the first place? He oozed around the halls, his words more greasy and slimy than Snape in a good mood. He was a prime example of why some guys should have an off button when it came to charm.
So why the hell was Ella Finster, the most cynical, sarcastic and least charmful person I’d eve met, interested in McGuiness? She wouldn’t fall for his charming ways what with her ‘no-tolerance-for-bull-shit’ attitude that she frequently used, especially on me.
Better yet why was McGuiness, the certified golden boy of Hogwarts seventh year, interested in plain old Ella Finster?
It’s not even as though she could be called pretty. Her hair was a mixture between mousy brown and some colour that vaguely resembled tomato ketchup. It was usually either too greasy or too dry so that is frizzed out, . Her skin was blemished and frequently had spots whilst her mouth was usually twisted into some form of a scowl or a frown. She was small, yet looked stretched out at the same time if that was even possible. She was bitter, cynical and twisted yet when she was with that absurd friend of hers she could be capable of laughing madly.
To be perfectly frank she was an oddity I could do without.
Yet….Yet something about her got to me. Somehow without my own knowledge or consciousness she intrigued me. I often caught myself noticing the way she screwed up her nose when she was confused or peeved, the way her glasses tipped precariously off her nose when she was in deep concentration and the flash of her large green eyes when she was annoyed. Then there was that line in between her eyebrows that would form when was mad at people and sometime I found myself just winding her up to see it appear.
Groaning at my own sissiness, I rolled onto my side and tried to gather my thoughts.
She just irked me that was it. She was like the thorn in my side that you couldn’t ignore, so of course you began to notice things about it.
But damn…did the thorn have to be so annoying and quirky at the same time?
Resigning myself to the fact that no matter how many times I counted the golden squares on the fabric that night they would stay the same and I wouldn’t get to sleep, I heaved a sigh and rolled out of bed reluctantly. What I needed was a distraction, I thought as I ran my hand absentmindedly through my hair, what I needed was Quidditch. When I was thinking of a Quaffle, nothing else could penetrate my mind…except perhaps a bludger.
Planning strategic tactics and manoeuvres for the next Quidditch match would take my mind off my worries.
Just as I reached under my pillow to retrieve, ‘Quidditch through the Ages,’ I groaned as I remembered I’d left it down in the common room earlier. I’d been attempting to instruct Harry on how to perform the ‘Hare and the Turtle’ manoeuvre that if mastered was guaranteed to allow the seeker to catch the snitch. Harry hadn’t seemed that enthusiastic about spending two hours studying diagrams but - after being threatened that if he didn’t I’d make him do Bludger runs next practice - he gave in.
This called for a trip to the common room then.
Swinging myself out of bed, I yawned before casting a curious and somewhat jealous glance to my peacefully sleeping dorm mates. There they were completely oblivious to my insomnia, just snoring the night away. Creeping past their sleeping forms, I found myself amused by the fact Percy was still wearing his Head Boy badge even in his sleep. Shaking my head as he lovingly stroked the shield in his dream, I opened the dormitory door and snuck out into the cold stairway.
Wincing as my bare feet touched the cold stone stairs, I crept down to the common room as quietly as I could. Almost caked in darkness, the sole light came from the dying embers of the fire and the low burning torches. Shadows sprung up here and there,
Ah! There it was, perched on the arm of the sofa near the fire. I was moving forwards, the Quidditch manoeuvres already racing through my head when a movement to my right startled me.
“Chocolate biscuits,” I heard someone mumble. “All this effort just for chocolate biscuits.”
Chocolate biscuits? I frowned in confusion as I registered what had just been said. Who would be up at midnight searching for chocolate biscuits? The same sort of person who was up at midnight searching for ‘Quidditch through the Ages,’ a little voice in my head answered back.
Squinting through the darkness, I could make out a small shape moving slowly through the dark common room, its movements suggesting that it was having to feel its way around.
“Ouch,” the shape squeaked in pain, obviously having crashed into an object nearby.
By that time I had deduced exactly who was sneaking around at night.
“Eeek!” I shrieked jumping into the air in fright and nearly tripped over the rug in shock. Shaking, I turned on my heel and came face to face with the person who had just given me a mild heart attack.
“Well what a sight this is at three o’clock in the morning,” a drawl came from the shadows.
“Eugh,” I sighed dejectedly, shoulders drooping as I recognised the voice. Of all the times to creep up on me it had to be this time. Dressed as I was in blue, baggy flannel pyjamas with mice and cheese on them, my uncombed hair creating a birds nest around my head, glasses falling off the end of my nose and a rather inelegant spot on the tip of my chin glinting in the moonlight I wasn’t the prettiest sight ever beheld.
Was wearing a loose pair of boxer shorts and a tight white t-shirt that emphasised a very nice sculpted chest. His mussed hair didn’t look bird’s nest like, it looked (I can’t believe my mind processed this thought) hot (eugh) and he didn’t have any bags on his eyes or problems with a shiny face.
“Typical,” I grunted under my breath.
“What was that?” He raised an eyebrow in my direction.
“Nothing,” I grunted again. What was with this grunting? How unladylike! I couldn’t believe I was stooping down to the caveman level so closely associated with a certain Mr Wood.
“So….Miss Finster,” he acknowledged coldly.
“Mr Wood,” I sniffed, avoiding looking at him.
“Out for a midnight rendezvous?” He said letting the question linger between us. He didn’t have to say a name; I knew who he was insinuating I’d meet in a broom closet.
Instead of answering with a verbal reply, I merely gave him a freezing look that I hoped would turn him to stone.
“No, I’m not like your girlfriend,” I mentally gave myself a point, “I don’t spread my sexual favours around like jam.”
“You have sexual favours? I thought you just liked the chase and then turned to ice when things got hot?” He raised that eyebrow. “Or is that just what other teases do?”
“I’m not a tease,” I muttered between clenched teeth.
“Keep telling yourself that,” He looked at me in a way that seemed vaguely disappointed. “You didn’t deny that you and Billy were getting up close and personal in that alley way -”
“Because I didn’t feel like explaining to you the details of why Billy was the one assaulting me-“
“You seem to know each other too well; I noticed that from day one. You were too intimate even in that first Potions lesson for me to believe you weren’t interested in him. Just face facts Ella, at the end of the day you’re still like all the other girls – shallow and hiding behind a different persona.”
“I’m not shallow. You want shallow go talk to Jaz or one of her groupies,” I could feel that anger bubbling up inside me. “After listening to her rate the boys according to their hotness and then debating for an hour whether or not to buy supercurl mascara, shallow will take on a whole new meaning for you.”
“You know what,” he shook his head at me condescendingly, “you’re just jealous of her. That’s why you go on and on about her so much.”
That was it.
He was DEAD!
“You insufferable baboon!” I shouted, grabbing the small tinder box on the table next to me and lobbing it in his direction. Sadly, anticipating this move he made a quick duck to avoid the missile, leaving the box to smash into the wall behind him.
“Your aim is not up to much is it?” He straightened up looking a tad relieved as he turned to survey the damage.
“Eugh!” I shrieked searching around for another object to throw at him. Grabbling around behind me, my hand latched upon a half full inkwell that someone had obviously forgotten to pick up earlier. Seizing upon it and with no thought about the mess it may cause, I flung it in his direction as he wearily backed against the wall.
Twirling through the air, the small glass jar began spewing wads of blue ink that splattered everything in sight…including Wood. As it made contact with the wall about a foot above his head, the glass shattered and doused Wood’s face and hair in blue ink.
Trickles of blue liquid ran down his cheeks, like very vivid blue veins. His eyes though were red, red with anger.
“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” He advanced menacingly towards me in a way that had me swallowing from a mixture of fear and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. As he got nearer, my heart beat faster and louder but I was determined to stand my ground and prove I couldn’t be trifled with.
“I doubt that,” I said as bravely as I could. Why did this whole thing have to happen? Why had I felt the need to leave my chocolate biscuits in the common room? All this trouble would have been avoided if it weren’t for my midnight cravings…
“What the hell’s going on here?” Percy’s Weasley’s voice boomed through the common room, coinciding with the sudden blaze of light in the room. Squinting through this brightness, I managed to deduce that our fight had woken up what seemed to be all of Gryffindor tower. In various states of undress, the yawning crowd were staring at Wood and me curiously, wondering what we were getting up to so late at night in an empty common room.
“Hey – who started the party without us?” Fred Weasley elbowed his elder brother out of the way, looking most put out.
“There is to be no party – rule number 197 states-“
“Oh put a sock in it Perce,” George joined Fred, “Silencio!” He pointed his wand at Percy’s throat, before pulling his sock off and stuffing it in his brother’s mouth. “See how much better that is?”
“Well what’s going on here then?” Fred asked raising an eyebrow as the fighting stance Wood and I had assumed.
“Just a friendly chat,” I attempted, lowering my wand from when it pointed at Wood’s chest. “No party, no fight…no anything,” I attempted to lie.
“Wood mate,” Fred asked ignoring me and instead nodding at Wood’s blue, ink spattered face, “I don’t know what you’ve heard but covering your face in ink doesn’t win you the girls. Get in a fight with a squid?”
“No, I just cover myself in ink for the fun of it?” Wood looked murderous. Or as murderous as anyone can when they have a blue face.
“So what is going on here then?” Lee Jordon yawned. “We heard a lot of screams, shouts and smashing. Things getting kinky?” Laughter and sniggering from the crowd greeted this question.
Turning red, I felt my toes curl up in embarrassment and I shuffled awkwardly in my bunny slippers.
“Never,” I squeaked, eyes widening as I realised just how suspicious my squeak had made the comment. Clearing my throat I continued, “Why would you assume that?”
“Because Wood here has a reputation with the girls,” Fred made suggestive gestures with his eyebrows. “He just uses the line my name is wood and I own a fine broomstick and they flock to him in droves.”
“Doesn’t quite work with the name Weasley,” George sighed dejectedly.
“Well I can assure you that I do not swoon and sigh in the presence of this nincompoop,” I gestured to Wood who was lazily observing the talk of his sexual prowess’s.
“No she trips over and bows down to my greatness,” he drawled from his perch on the back of the sofa. “But let’s face it who wouldn’t?”
Now who said he wasn’t egotistical?
“Let me tell you something Mr Wood!” I cried advancing towards him until the finger I held threateningly bumped into his chest. A nice, chiselled and muscular chest I couldn’t help but notice- but no – this wasn’t the time for these horrible thoughts.
“You need to be brought down a peg or two sonny boy!” I prodded his chest. Sonny Boy – has I really just called him sonny boy in the middle of my serious and threatening rant?
“Sonny boy?” The eyebrow raised again.
“Yes sonny boy,” I refused to back down. “You are not god’s gift to women as you may believe,” many girl’s around us protested at my statement, “you are merely an egotistical gnome brain with more charm than a four leaf clover.” I prodded his chest again viciously. “And don’t even get me started on four leaf clovers!”
“So I have charm now?” He smirked at me. “I thought I had the manners of dung beetle?”
“I didn’t mean charm in a good way,” I hissed. “I meant the charm of a snake before it gobbles you right up or the charm of a slug leaving a slimy trail!”
“Graphic as always,” he said snidely.
“You are the biggest pain in the rear end I’ve ever met!” I said shrilly, prodding him more forcefully in the chest. “You may be able to handle a broomstick but that does not make you all that is good and wonderful. Riding on a twig does not qualify you for god like status and male arrogance; it merely means you have a close relationship with trees! You are the stereotypical Quidditch imbecile with more brawn than brains and as soon as you meet someone who threatens your ideals you go out of your way to ruin their life. Just because I have my own brain and can string a sentence together without the use of acronyms or lavish praises of your person does not make me a freak, it makes me a goddamn hero! I haven’t been blinded by your supposed greatness (and please take note of the word supposed) and I can only be thankful that I have more common sense than to fall down on my knees and pray to you each time you walk past. You completely misinterpret situations and because of your inability to listen to someone with half a brain you never learn the truth. If you actually took the time to come down off your highorse you'd see these things! I have intelligence, some dignity” I finished icily, “you have a girlfriend that spreads her favours like jam.” I finished off this rant with a determined nod of the head for more impact.
“Have you finished?” He looked at me bored.
“Yes…for now,” I said icily.
“Good, because now it’s my turn,” he crossed his arms in front of himself and regarded me stonily. “You Miss Finster are like that annoying fly that refuses to be swatted or that particularly painful knife lodged into your side. You spend your days walking around with your nose up in the air because you think you’re superior to everyone else but if you actually got down off your throne you’d realise your no better than the rest of us. Sometimes you’re even worse than these people you spend your days criticising. You complain, you bitch, you sneer and you insult – how does that make you any better than the girls you grumble about? Do you have any idea how annoying it is for you to be popping up everywhere insulting you, demeaning you? Do you not know how grating you voice gets after you rant about your step sister’s for three hours on end and then launch into an attack about Quidditch? Do you understand how bothersome it is to have you following me around all day never ceasing with the jabbering on? No, you don’t because then you’d actually have to listen instead of lecture.”
Trying to straighten my face into something resembling dismissal, I attempted to look uncaring.
“Is that all you’ve got,” I said challengingly, trying to look nonchalant in the face of this attack.
“You’re just scared to admit that sometimes you can be wrong about someone. You don’t trust people or like people because there’s a chance that one day they are going to turn round and hurt you. So you insult them to push them away and save yourself the heartache, even though you isolate yourself and make yourself even more unhappy.”
I could only stare open mouthed after his outburst. How had he concluded all that about me? I insulted people because it was easier to push them away than be friends with them and get hurt?
“Alright let’s have some order here people,” George elbowed his way through the crowd and surveyed the damage already done with a shake of his head. I was surprisingly glad of the interruption as it covered up my momentary silence in the wake of Wood’s announcement. I felt this would take the focus off me, break up the disorder that had sprung up and allow me the opportunity to sneak back up to bed without loosing face.
However, I hadn’t bargained on the Weasley Twin’s methods of extolling order on the masses.
“We’ll start the bidding odds at 5/2 in favour of Ella,” George began, conjuring betting slips with his wand.
How was this placing order into the situation?
“Hey!” Wood cried, momentarily distracted. “Why are the odds in her favour? I’m the big rugged Quidditch captain. Surely I’m the definite winner!”
“Yeah but she’s got brains on her side,” Fred pointed out as he began to collect bets.
“Oh I really doubt that,” Wood hissed turning back to me.
“Well all you’ve got is pigheaded ignorance,” I shot back.
“Plus history is on her side,” George interjected before Wood could retort. “She’s the girl who performed that spell on Sam Hill the one that tied his...you know…into a knot.”
“Took them three weeks to find a cure,” Fred shook his head sadly. “I’d beware.”
At the mention of this particular feat (that had been blown out of proportion; I’d merely knotted his arms and legs together with some spell I’d found) I crossed my arms in front of myself and smiled smugly.
“I’ll take my chances,” Wood looked me up and down and decided I was not much of a challenge. The top of my head did only reach just below his shoulder after all. “She doesn’t look to pose much of a threat.”
I bared my teeth at him in a badly concealed growl.
“Seems a bit snappy to me,” Fred whispered loudly to George, earning himself a glare from me.
“You know what - I’m going to take the moral high ground here,” I muttered primly.
“Someone has to you see, before things get out of hand.”
“Aw,” Fred muttered as the collective crowd groaned. “Does that mean no duel?” He looked dejectedly at the betting slips in his hands.
“Yes of course it means no duel,” I snapped. “I refuse to take part in such a childish display of dramatics. There will be no duel at my hands tonight! I wash my hands of this debacle!” I finished this off by pretending to wipe my hands clean.
“Goodnight Mr Wood,” I said stiffly inclining my head. He had been surprisingly silent in the wake of my declaration and looked a bit astounded, if not a bit disappointed by my ending of the argument. “I found over verbal spar match to be….interesting.” The students groaned some more as it now became evident the duel was cancelled.
“Just too fearful of my great masculine persona,” he said to the crowd as I began to make my way up the stairs. “My very name just sends tingles down her spine!”
My shoulders tensing, my body itched to turn round and punch him but with a few deep breaths and iron will I managed to make it to the bottom of the stairs without having murdered him. I just needed to keep a cool head (and trust me red head’s find this difficult) and gets out of there as quickly as possible. Just one step at a time. One step-
“Miss Eleanor Finster ladies and gentlemen, let’s give her a round of applause. She can’t help that she’s not match for my amazing skill and wit. She’s obviously blinded by her attraction to me.” Wood’s cocky voice drifted to my ears.
Feeling my teeth grind, the muscle in my cheek twitch, my hands clench to fists and red hot anger flood through my veins a red haze covered my gaze. The cogs in my brain whirred and before I even realised what I’d done…
“Rictumsempra!” I cried as I spun round, pointing my wand towards Wood. He immediately doubled over laughing, clutching his sides as thousands of invisible hands began tickling him. The sight of Wood letting out high pitch girlish giggles and crying with the strain of it all, made laughter bubble up into my own throat.
“Yeah, sure,” I muttered sarcastically. “Of course I’m attracted to that,” I gestured in his giggling direction. “I’m more attracted to a potted mandrake with leaf rot than I am to you.”
The evil look he sent me through his bouts of laughter was enough to kill me on the spot. Advancing nearer, still laughing madly all the while, he drew out his wand and aimed it in my direction.
Oh shit – my laughter stopping abruptly I was just about the make a break for it when I heard Wood behind me.
Before I knew it, I was flying through the air, appearing to have tripped but there was nothing that I could have tripped over. The damn fool had fired a trip jinx at me to stop me from escaping, I realised as I hit the floor.
Rolling onto my back, I levered myself up onto my elbows and glanced at the advancing figure of Wood, who in the time it had taken for me to tumble had removed the tickling charm I’d placed on him.
Hurrying to my feet, I stumbled slightly and the grip on my wand slackened. Wood looked ready to hang, draw and quarter me right now and I wanted to be as far away from him as possible.
Hurriedly backing away from him as fast as I could, I soon found my escape plan a little flawed as my back hit the curtains. As Wood advanced towards me, a manic gleam in his eye, I gulped and tried the age old trick of blending into the background and pretending I wasn’t there.
“Hey-“ before I knew what was happening he’d hefted me up over his shoulder and I was momentarily winded as he began to walk in the direction of the portrait hole.
“Put me down!” I shrieked, arms flailing wildly as I attempted to grab onto whatever I could to avoid being dragged away. My hands clawing at the air as Wood essentially kidnapped me, my fingers met air before finally catching onto the red velvet curtain. Tightening my grasp, I hung on for dear life hoping that this fabric would save me from the burly kidnapper when the rest of Gryffindor tower refused to and just stood around laughing.
As Wood walked further from the curtain, I still fighting and flailing over his shoulder, my grip on the curtain intensified until the curtain tensed and Wood was incapable of moving any further forward.
“Let got of that curtain!” He shouted, as he noticed the cause of the restriction of his movements.
“Never,” I clung tighter to the curtain and it tensed even more. It was my life source right now, the only thing stopping me from being murdered.
“Fine,” he took a determined and powerful step forward, a step far more powerful than the curtain it appeared. My grip on the curtain so fierce, his movement caused the curtain to rip from the rail and the sudden relaxing of tension to backfire so that we propelled-
To the floor. In a heap.
Rolling around in a tangle of limbs, and the curtain we’d pulled from the hanger, we fought mercilessly to free ourselves from the confines we were stuck in. As students cheered we attempted to kick, punch and pull our way free, never heeding the other person or any accidental injuries we might cause them.
“Ooof,” I heard him groan as my knee (accidentally) hit him in a place God only intended to be treated nicely.
“Ouch,” I said winded as his elbow lodged itself in my gut as we rolled around, determined to find an escape.
Ripping myself free from the constraints of the heavy curtains, I found that this sudden movement propelled me to the side and onto…
I could feel his body panting from exertion as he was just centimetres away from my own breathless form.
Dimly I registered that someone wolf whistled in the background and others laughed at our predicament, but I was a bit disillusioned at that point, the cause I guessed was the knock to the head I had just taken. His breath warm on my face so I could smell the minty freshness that showed he had brushed his teeth before bed. For some reason that even my brain couldn’t deduce that fact sent little warm tingles up my spine as I smelt his breath. It tickled my nose and cheeks as he breathed in deeply and angrily above me. His lips, just inches from my own were surprisingly plump and pink for a boy and I just couldn’t help but wonder what they’d be like to touch.
“What the hell is going on here!”
A rough hand with sharp talons dug into my arm causing me to wince slightly.
Jasmine had made an appearance.
“What are you doing to my boyfriend?” She shrieked, yanking me round to face her maddened stare. Wood and I hastily stood, brushing invisible dust from ourselves, refusing to look the other in the eye.
Gulping lightly as she looked ready to breathe fire, I attempted to settle my nerves and get the quiver from my voice. Glancing over her shoulder at Wood, I noticed a strange expression on his face, one that I couldn’t deduce the meaning of.
“Trying to kill him,” I ventured, knowing that not only was that the partial truth (our battle had started out as such after all) but it was the answer least likely to have me killed in return. I’d be screamed at, hissed at and probably acronymed to death of course, but it was better than being stabbed by a nail file. “What else would it be?”
What I hadn’t reckoned on was the fleeting look that passed over Wood’s face. If I had known him better I’d have said it was hurt, but because I didn’t and because he was an egotistical Quidditch player without feelings I deduced that it must just be a state of idiotic confusion like usual.
“Well it looked like you were trying to steal my boyfriend Finster,” Jaz flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, moving her head with each word for more emphasis before ending with a finger jab in my direction.
“Jaz,” I sighed shaking my head as I surveyed the floor. “For one thing trying to insult me by calling me ‘Finster’ is stupid because unless your dimwitted brain has forgotten your last name is also Finster and thus you’ve just insulted yourself. Secondly,” I took a deep breath, “the thought of me and Wood is laughable.”
“Well you didn’t seem to be laughing much when I saw you,” she pouted warningly before turning to face Wood. “How could you do that to me Ollie-wolly?”
“Ollie-wolly?” I choked out on a laugh that I tried to disguise behind my mouth as Wood sent me murderous glances.
“Ollie-wolly?” Fred and George grinned, thoroughly happy with the new nickname they had to tease him with.
“I thought I told you not to call me that again?” Wood said between ground teeth, trying to ignore the laughter that was spreading through the common room.
“Well,” Jaz sniffed. “You hurt me Ollie-wolly! Seeing you and my step sister next to each other was almost as bad as the time The Banshees split up!”
“Like I’d touch her with a blast ended skrewt!” Wood looked at me mockingly, casting me a quick nervous glance before continuing. “I’d sooner have a boxing match with the whomping willow then invade the personal space of Finster here!”
Okay – ouch! I know he had to appease the dragon that was his girlfriend but did he have to forget that I was a person with feelings?
“I mean have you seen her?” He looked at me with a hollow look in his eye that made him look a bit pained behind his mocking exterior. “She’s short, a runt, spotty and has the personality of a fish! No one in their right mind would go near her!”
Oh that was it…
Giving a war cry I lunged for him, only to feel arms pulling me back from my attempt to strangle him.
“You’re going down Wood,” I hissed at his retreating back as Indy attempted to drag me back up the stairs. “No one insults my bunny slippers and gets away with it!”
One week later…
“Right I hereby declare the first meeting of the WEINER Club open,” Fred bashed his potions book on the table for silence.
“WEINER Club?” Angelina raised an eyebrow curiously. “Why wiener?”
“Wood-Ella-In-Need-of-Enlightening-Reform,” Fred said smiling proudly. “Hence Weiner.”
The small crowd before him looked doubtful at being members of such a phallic sounding club. Gathered together at the abysmal hour of 3.30 am,
“I’m not being part of a club called Weiner,” Indy piped up from the side. “I refuse to allow us to be referred to us Wieners!”
“It’s not Wiener’s it’s Weiners!” Fred interjected.
“Speak for yourself,” a timid second year cried. “It’s better than some of the stuff the Slytherin’s call us.”
“If a Slytherin talks down to you just ask them what’s got their dark mark in such a twist,” George pointed out. “Then remind them Voldemort’s a sissy and that green is such an unflattering colour.”
“Can we please get to the point,” Samantha asked. “Why are we all here at this ridiculous time in the morning?”
It was 2.34 am in the morning and after being woken by an army of rubber ducks (the Gryffindor’s had been a tad alarmed when they flew into their dormitories, quacking manically) fifty Gryffindor students were crammed into the common room ready to listen to the latest plan of action. It has been said desperate times call for desperate measures and the Gryffindor’s were in a truly desperate time. Frazzled, cursed and jinxed to within an inch of their lives they needed a solution to their problem.
“We called this meeting because someone needs to put a stop to this malarkey!” Fred declared. “The only people who should be cursing people in the hall is us!”
“They’re stepping in on our turf, albeit not intentionally. But still!” George looked put out.
“By the way how do we know Wood, Ella, Jaz or some of their close friends won’t wake up and discover us?” Someone asked from the corner.
“Don’t you think we’ve thought of all of this,” Fred sighed dramatically, “they don’t call us the God’s for nothing you know.”
“Yeah Fred put a charm on their beds so that they can’t hear anything we say,”
“Yeah-“ Fred began then looked sharply at George. “Wait. I put a charm? I thought you put the charm on?”
“No we agreed you would!”
“I don’t think so-“
“Don’t worry,” Indy sighed dramatically getting up and separating the two twins. “It’s all been taken care off. There’s an impenetrable charm placed on the common room at the moment so they won’t be able to hear a thing. Plus, I slipped Ella a sleeping draught earlier; she won’t wake up for ages.”
“Excellent!” George smiled widely at Indy. “My kind of woman!”
“I’m just naturally perfect,” Indy smiled as she resumed her seat, giving George a large wink.
“Anyway back to the main point. So far the pranking,” Fred looked dubious at this word, “and I use the term pranking in a loose sense because let’s face it, no one has anything on us. I mean-“
“Just get to the point,” Angelina waved aside his comment.
“Anyway the pranking,” Fred looked uncomfortable at having been put down by the girl of whom he’d had lovely dreams recently. “So far they’ve spent the entire week following the common room fight engaged in a series of daily battles that are a mixture of embarrassing and torturous for the victim. Furthermore-”
“Furthermore?” Alicia raised her eyebrow. “When did you start using words like ‘furthermore’?”
“I’ll have you know my associate and I are connoisseurs of the English Language,” Fred indicted himself and George haughtily. “That and the fact Charlie gave us word of the day toilet paper for our birthday.”
The collected crowd nodded understandingly, relieved that the Weasley twins hadn’t fallen back on studying and picking up a thesaurus in their spare time. Things were strange enough as it was without parallel universes coming into the mix.
“Anyway thanks to our spies here,” he indicated Colin Creevey and his friend who looked proud at having been mentioned, “we’ve collected quite an extensive list of the pranks that have been going on between them.”
“Monday,” George began, “Wood knocked the orange juice into her lap so that she looked like she’d wet herself. Following this he pinned her ponytail to the chair.”
“Tuesday was the retaliation,” Fred continued, “She cursed his socks to sing ‘I am Woman’ every time he walked anywhere. Better yet a sticking charm prevented him from taking them off.”
“Wednesday: He made the pages of all her text books turn blank every time she tried to read them, whilst replacing her yellowy parchment with a pink version.” George screwed up his face in disgust at the thought of pink parchment.
“Thursday: She turned his hair green and used a tricky spell to draw black lines upon his face to give the impression of whiskers.” Fred nodded appreciatively, “I have to admit that was damn funny seeing Wood looking like a cat all day.”
“True,” George nodded as well. “Yet he got his own back on Friday when he pushed her into the lake and she was nearly attacked by merpeople.”
“As you can see something needs to be done,” Fred declared valiantly. “We can’t live in conditions such as these anymore!”
“Agreed,” Katie Bell piped up. “Wood made me fly twenty extra laps round the Quidditch Pitch when HE crashed into me!”
“Ella set my bed on fire out of anger yesterday,” Indy winced at the memory. “She’d had an angry dream about Wood and accidentally took it out on my bed hangings. Lucky for me I was in the bathroom at the time.”
“Plus,” Harry interjected, “Wood’s in such a bad mood he told me if I don’t catch the snitch in the next Quidditch Match he’s going to beat me with my own broomstick and then feed me to the giant spiders in the forbidden forest.”
“Violence, bad tempers and fire,” George raised an eyebrow and struck a thoughtful pose. “This is obviously more serious than we thought.”
“Gentlemen,” Fred began causing Angelina to cough pointedly, “and ladies of course. Do not fret in this hour of need.”
“We have a plan,” George smiled wickedly.
A/N: Okay just a quick note to say I am writing Chapter Ten very slowly. The loss of my 120 reviews has left me disheartened but I am struggling through my despair and should have the new chapter finished soon. It will most likely be put into two parts and as I'm feeling kind here's a sneak peak:
Turning round to utter a mean rebuke, I instead let out an undignified squeak when I found myself staring at the muscles of his bare chest.
Eyes widening I continued to stare open mouthed, doing a fish impression before some logical leaver in my head was pulled and my hand flew up to cover my eyes. Thankful I could now gather my thoughts without staring at the…er…’chiselledness’ of Wood’s body, I tried to force my face into righteous indignation and disgust.
“Can you please not do that,” I gestured vaguely in the direction of his now bare chest. Or I hope I was gesturing in that direction; it was a bit hard to see with your eyes covered up.
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