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Catastrophe by still_fly
Chapter 5: Barmy
“Good morning, Normandy!”
Urgh. The freaking singing princesses are at it again! I heard someone pull my curtain back slightly and I responded with an always pleasant, “Touch my curtain and I’ll transfigure you into a moldy piece of crap.” They immediately pulled it back into the place it was before, letting the rays of sunlight that were emitting through the cracks of the curtains fade into darkness once again. I smirked, snuggling up to my pillow.
That’s right, skanks. Don’t mess with me.
I was feeling unusually exhausted this morning and it probably had something to do with my late night venture into the seventh year boy’s dormitory. I lost myself in my thoughts as my heavy eyes closed once again. The singing of my fellow sixth years, which sounded more like screeching, drowned out as I fell back into slumber.
Before I knew it, I was being poked awake.
“Go away.” I groaned.
“But Dee, class started five minutes ago.” The person who was poking me reminded.
Poke. Poke. Poke.
“I don’t care.”
“You’re going to get detention. I‘m going to get detention!”
Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke.
Normally, I would not give a crap whether or not I got detention, but today was different. I couldn’t get detention today or else I wouldn’t be able to stop Marian from snogging Patrick’s face off at dinner. My eyes flew open and the poking stopped.
Rose was leaning over my bed, bouncing up and down on the toes of her feet, no doubt in impatience. It was obvious that she wanted nothing more then to leave me here and just go to class but she owed from last time when I woke her up.
I sprung out of bed, hurrying to get my uniform. I fell down as I yanked my tights on, then grabbed the ugly shoes we were supposed to wear and stuffed my feet inside them. I ran a brush through hair, sighing. I guess I was just going to have to deal with my annoying waves today.
I grabbed Rose’s hand and we rushed out of the door, down the stairs and to the portrait hole. As I was climbing my way through it I, once again, fell on my arse. Rose glided out elegantly behind me. Bugger. Why was it a freaking hole anyways? Why didn’t the founders of this godforsaken school just make it an inconspicuous doorway?
“Come on, Dee!” Rose whined, running down the corridor without so much as glancing at me—least of all helping me up.
I need to find nicer friends.
I got up and raced after her. I really don’t see why were running so fast to get to class—we were already screwed. We don’t have Slughorn to ignore or tardiness today. Nope. We had to face freaking McGonagall. We’re getting detention for sure.
We were panting by the time we reached the Transfiguration classroom. Rose pushed the double doors open and burst through as I followed behind her. Every eye, as per usual, looked up in gratitude that something had finally interrupted Micky’s yacking.
McGonagall looked up at us as well, her lips set into a thin line.
“But—” Both Rose and I began at the same time. I mentally cursed fate.
“No buts. Sit down, Miss Herman, Miss Weasley.”
Rose sat down, but I stayed, rooted in place.
“Professor,” I insisted stupidly, “This is all just a big misunderstanding.”
“What I don’t understand is why we’re still discussing this. Detention, Miss Herman, tonight before dinner.” My eyes widened at that. Why, oh why, couldn’t I have just followed Rose’s lead and just kept my big trap shut?
“Dinner!?” I exclaimed, “I’ll gladly come in during lunch, Professor.”
“Dinner. Now sit down before I give you detention for a week.”
Probably looking like a child who was told to go to timeout, I paraded to my seat next to Albus and sat down with a dramatic huff. From a couple seats in front of me, Patrick turned around in his seat and raised his eyebrows at my melodramatic performance. Despite myself, I smiled and shook my head.
If only he freaking knew.
Albus looked stunned. He probably still thought that I was helping with the prank. I sighed.
I’m going to need a freaking shovel to dig myself out of this one.
“This sucks!” Albus exclaimed after class as we walked to Herbology.
“Sucks poop.” I nodded my head in agreement, although we were probably thinking of two completely different things. Albus ran his hand through his hair in irritation, I ran mine through my hair in frustration.
“We need to talk to James.”
“I do not want to speak to that wanker right now.”
“But we need to—”
“We don’t need squat.” I interrupted him angrily, not with Al, but at the thought of Potter. I sighed. I breathed in to clear out my mind, to calm myself. “Look, Al. I’m not going to be helping you guys out tonight. I have other things to take care of. Besides, your brother made it pretty clear that he didn’t want my help anyhow.”
“But Dee!” He said, stopping in his tracks. I stopped too. His face looked crestfallen and his voice cracked on my name, “I’ve never pulled a prank without you before.”
I rolled my eyes, walked over to him, put my arm around his waist and pulled him down the corridor. He let his arm fall on my shoulders which was probably really uncomfortable for him considering our height difference. He towered over me by at least an entire foot.
“Albus Potter, you listen to me,” I told him, patting his waist, “It’ll all be okay. I know how excited you’ve been about this prank and I don’t want to be the reason that it’s ruined. Got that?” I didn’t give time to answer as I continued, “I’m going to find a way to skive off of detention so that I can do something important.”
“Do what, exactly?” He asked, as we climbed the moving staircases.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Alright.” He said, letting it drop. There was a moment of silence, “And Dee?”
“It’s not going to be the same without you.”
I smirked, “I know.”
I met up with Rose when it came to go to detention.. Albus had given me the Invisibility Cloak to use tonight and I made sure that it was stuffed into my back pocket still. Patting my bum, I noted that it was. It was almost thirty minutes to dinner and, knowing McGonagall, she was probably going to keep us in detention until about ten minutes before curfew.
But not if I could help it.
We walked into Micky’s classroom. McGonagall was at her desk and when she saw us walk in she flicked her wand at the chalkboard and words appeared on the stupid thing. I will not be late to class.
“Sit down and write.” She instructed, “I‘d like a thousand lines from each of you.”
“A thousand?” An outraged voice sounded as Rose and I took our seats. I looked up, startled, at the sound of the voice as I hadn’t even noticed anyone other than McGonagall in the room before. There were two girls, each looking to be around the age of fifteen or fourteen, seated right next to each other. One had brown hair that just barely reached her shoulders and the other had dirty blonde hair that fell in curls down her back.
“Yes, Miss Huffman, a thousand.”
Both girls groaned, as did Rose and myself.
“Don’t even try to leave until you have finished . . . or use your wands for that matter.” She told us sternly as she got up and headed to the door. She tapped the end of her wand to her head, “I’ll know if you do. Have a good time.”
“Oh, we won’t.” The blonde said. Micky rolled her eyes and left.
“I can’t believe this.” Rose murmured to me, pulling out a scrap of parchment and some ink. I already had my stuff out, in fact, I was already on line three. The faster I finished, the quicker I could get Patrick out of the bleeding Great Hall. By ten minutes to dinner, however, I had only managed to write a hundred and fifty lines.
I set down my quill and rubbed my wrist. It frickin hurt. I looked up and locked eyes with the two girls that also had detention. I raised my eyebrows. They were staring at Rose and I like we had extra arms growing out of our heads or something. I looked at their papers and noted that they hadn’t even touched them yet.
. . . How long have they been starring at us, exactly?
“What are you friggin looking at?” I asked bluntly. Rose looked up at my outburst.
The brunette, I think McGonagall called her Huffman or something, snorted, “You. You look funny.” I cast a sideways glance at Rose as if to ask her if these girls were for real. Her expression seemed to be mirroring the exact same way I was feeling; bewildered . . . and slightly weirded out.
The blonde hit Huffman upside the head, “Don’t say that! That’s mean.” She turned to me and Rose with an apologetic look on her face, “Don’t listen to her. You guys only look a little funny.” Huffman snorted again.
“Oh yeah, cause that was so nice.”
“No one asked you.”
“Will you shut up?” Rose asked, annoyed, “I’m trying to do my lines. I’d like to leave this room before I’m, you know, eighty.” The blonde broke out into fits of laughter. The brunette seemed thoroughly amused herself, but she didn’t laugh; just patted her friend as if to calm her down.
“I think I might pee!” The blonde managed to gasp out between laughs.
“What is so funny?” I asked for Rose, knowing that if I let Rose do it herself she would say something awful and mean. I ignored the pee comment but I noticed that Rose had scrunched up her nose in disgust.
The brunette looked at me and laughed herself, “For someone such as yourself, you’d think you would know the ways of detention.” Such as myself? Did they know me from somewhere? “McGonagall is full of empty threats. If we don’t do crap with those lines,” She motioned to the board by flapping her arm up and down like a bird, “by curfew then she’ll just let us leave.”
“And you might as well not do it,” The blonde chipped in now that her laughing came to a halt, “Since it’ll take you until curfew to finish anyways.”
“I don’t see why she keeps giving us lines anymore. She knows we stopped doing them back in first year.”
They laughed some more.
First year? How long have they been getting detention? I suddenly felt impressed . . . even if they were crazies.
“Who are you loons?” I asked, finding myself extremely intrigued by the pair. Their sense of humor was so odd but they were unashamed of it, like they didn’t care what other people thought of them. I think I was beginning to respect that a little.
They quit laughing and stared at me, with the most serious expression that I had ever seen, for at least a whole minute before answering. Huffman was the one who answered, opening her mouth and whispering dramatically, “Fersminar.”
“Er . . .” I looked at Rose and she looked at me. She shrugged. I followed Rose’s lead and shrugged too. If she says that her name is Fersminar then I'll call her Fersminar even though I’m positive that’s not on her birth certificate.
“She doesn‘t like people knowing her name.” The blonde explained, rolling her brown eyes. I didn’t feel like this explanation clarified anything but whatever. She extended a slender hand for me to shake, “I’m Heather.”
I just stared at it like it was covered in boogers or something, “Wait. You said that you’ve had detention before, right?”
They nodded enthusiastically and Heather spoke up, “Might we just say that you’re our inspiration for all the things that get us in trouble. We would have never started pranking if it weren’t for you and that Potter boy—”
“—the one with the wonky glasses—” Fersminar interjected.
“—and the wonky hair.” Heather added.
“They both have wonky hair, you dolt.”
“Whatever. Anyways, you‘re practically our role models and—”
“—we observe you two well.” Heather nodded in agreement, unashamed.
“Although, we didn’t really do anything especially troublesome this time . . .”
“Yeah, like yourselves, we just managed to be late to Mick’s class.” Fersminar explained.
“But either way, you and Al are great specimen to watch.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be creeped out or flattered by that but, erm . . . thanks, I guess.” I told them, laughing awkwardly but with a genuine smile on my face. These girls may be completely barmy but . . . I think I like them. They remind me of myself when I was younger. Or maybe I just like them because they respect me and Al so much.
I have an inkling that it’s probably more of the latter than the former.
“Dee!” Rose exclaimed from my side, “I know that look! You’re not actually growing comfortable with these—these loons, are you?”
“Hey!” They cried.
“I think I am.” I replied, smiling. “Also, I think they could help us get out of detention.” That got Rose’s attention. I smirked, and turned to Fersminar and the blonde girl, “You’re probably going to hate me for this, but will you guys write our lines for us?”
They stared at us for a long time with this weird expressionless look and I knew at that moment that they were going to say no and that I should go to hell or something. But then they cracked two goofy smiles and nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, anything for our elders!” Fersminar exclaimed, grabbing my parchment and scribbling furiously.
“Unless, you know, your name is McGonagall . . .” Heather said, taking Rose’s paper and beginning to write.
“You don’t need to do that . . .” Rose protested trying to take the parchment back but Heather just swatted her hand away. By the look Rose had on her face I could tell that she was looking guilty for skiving off of her lines this way.
Poor, naïve Rose.
“You guys are cool.” I said honestly as I stood up to leave. I glanced at the clock and my eyes widened. Dinner started three minutes ago, “Thanks a lot, by the way. I hope to see you lot more in my future.” I saluted them as I walked backwards to the door and then I turned away from them and dashed out of there like a freaking tiger.
Except, you know, I may have tripped a couple of times.
As I ran, I pulled the Invisibility Cloak over myself in case McGonagall saw me at dinner thus concluding that I skived off of Detention. I burst into the Great Hall. People looked in my general direction with looks of curiosity. I guess it looked kind of weird for the doors to burst open without anyone touching them. They shrugged it off, presumably because they figured that anything and everything can happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Albus and James were already seated at the Gryffindor table, as far away as possible from the opposite sex, I noted. They wore expressions of smugness as they scanned the inhabitants of the Great Hall.
And then, basically all at once, disturbingly so, people began snogging like they weren’t ever going to see the light of day again.
To my horror, I saw Marian Summers approach Patrick as if she were blissfully unaware of what was happening around her, like all her fellow classmate snogging disgustingly at dinner was an everyday occurrence. She probably wasn’t aware of it. Stupid bint.
To my even greater horror, I watched as Patrick, his face twisted in confusion at the bizarre happenings going on around him, inched his fingers toward the bowl of seemingly deliciously raspberries.
I scurried to where he was sitting just as he plopped a raspberry in his mouth. This strange expression glazed over his face slowly. Marian was sitting right next to him at this point and he turned to her with that weird look still plastered on his face. She was smirking and he leant in and closed his eyes. Before anything more could happen, however, I reached out and yanked him off of the bench.
He got up, startled, and I dragged him out of the Great Hall leaving a pouting Marian at the Gryffindor table. Before she could call him back, however, some random bloke pulled her in for a kiss. I rolled my eyes.
Patrick and I stumbled out of the Great Hall and I kept dragging him until we reached an abandoned corridor where I loosed the grip on his arm and let him go. He stumbled backwards, looking around frantically for the force that pulled him here. I let the Cloak slide off of my body and stuffed it into my back pocket once again.
And then several things happened at once, all due to my stupidity.
I think I may have forgotten that I was girl because I didn’t even realize that Patrick, as he was still under the influence of the snogberries, would basically snog me senseless as soon as I took off the stupid Cloak.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
My body was slammed into the wall, causing an alarmed squeak to escape from my mouth. It was cut off, however, by two lips descending upon my own. Two lips that belonged to the extremely attractive Patrick Fisk.
I’m not sure why I did it—after all, this whole time I was trying to prevent Patrick from snogging someone who wasn’t Olive—but I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me. This is wrong, my conscious told me, but, I think, my subconscious was a little too preoccupied to listen.
Patrick knew what he was freaking doing (like, snogging wise), let’s be honest, and it really made it hard to think, to be reasonable.
And since when was I reasonable in the first place, anyways?
Our mouths moved together, synced, but it didn’t feel right. Obviously, this was immoral, but that’s not really what I mean. It just doesn’t . . . have any sparks. And with that thought, I managed to push him off of me.
“Patrick, you have no idea what you’re doing!” I tried to tell him as he dove in for another kiss, I dodged it, maneuvering around him so that I wasn‘t pinned between him and the wall. His face still held that bizarre look on it, like he was under a trance. Come to think of it, that’s probably what the snogberries did to you; put you under a trance.
I snapped my fingers in front of his face frantically—isn’t that what muggles do to stop hypnosis?—and slowly, like really slowly, as he inched closer to me to the point where his body was pressed up to mine again, his face softened into his normal look.
Not that snogging him wasn’t enjoyable, it was, it’s just, if it hadn’t worn off, I don’t think I could have stopped myself.
“Normandy?” He asked, looking down at me from behind those thick lashes. I raised my eyebrows as if to tell him ‘who do I look like? Santa Clause?’. His eyes widened considerably when he noticed our intimate position and he jumped back, running his fingers through his hair. I kept my gaze to the ground, afraid to look into his eyes.
“Did I just—?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that one so I opted for shrugging, all nonchalant. I forced myself to look up at him. He look horrified.
“Oh, Normandy, I am so sorry—”
I cut him off, “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. In all honesty, it was more my fault than yours.” And, so, I pulled him down the corridor and explained the entire story to him from the very beginning to this very moment. He was very understanding and that’s when I realized that Patrick was an extremely good friend.
Just a friend.
*A/N: HAHAHA you all are probably like: wtf? fersimnar while I'm all: inside joke suckas! i suppose i should explain, though. iight well here it goes: this is actually based off a real life experience. so here i am, at the tender age of fifteen and nine months at girls camp. i was a fourth year, see, and we had just gotten back from out MASSIVE hike that was like BRUTAL and all the girls were like sitting around the campfire and crap. my friend abbie forgot her camp chair so we were squished in one and like cracking jokes and stuff. so then abbie is all: "dude you see that girl right there? i dare you to stare at her the next hour and, whenever she looks at you, lick your lips!" and, of course, HOW COULD I TURN THAT DOWN!? well we actually ended up talking to her and her friend afterwards and, lemme tell you, THEY ARE THE FUNNIEST FOURTEEN YEAR OLDS I HAVE EVER FREAKING MET. and, yeah, she actualy told me her name was fersminar. actually, that was how she answered everything . . .
ONCE AGAIN THIS A/N IS LONGER THAN THE CHAPTER so i'll just shut up now.