The Confessions of Bollie M Kendal. by PolyesterSpork

Chapter 2: Confession two
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The oh so amazing Broomsticks@TDA!

 











Confession two - Yes, I am living a cliché.

That day I was in a haze. It wasn’t the lack of sleep that was doing me in - insomnia is an unfortunate but permanent fixture in my life. No, it was the horror. I mean, sorry, but at sixteen you ideally want to be up all night if you’re studying for exams, going on a fabulous date, or eating a bucket load of chocolate with your BFF and your little sister. Well, at least those were the things I’d noted down as late nights essential to the teen girl experience. No, and I mean no, sixteen year old girl wants to be sat up in the middle of the night in the window, looking out at the stars and wondering where she can get a pregnancy test without being seen.

So when my best friend Ruth woke up she found me, wearing my unicorn patterned pyjama bottoms and an old T-shirt of my dads, sat in the window, looking about as terrified as if an axe murderer was just outside the door. She asked what was wrong once, but I replied nothing - and Ruth, as much as I love her, is dreadfully self-centred, so she shrugged it off.

I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways I could have stopped this from happening. And believe me, there are a lot. I could have not gone to that party, I could have waited for Leo, I could have been calm, I could have not accepted that first beer, I could have not accepted that second beer, I could have not accepted that third, fourth, possibly even fifth beer, as by that part of the night things were starting to get a bit fuzzy and I can’t quite remember what I drunk. And most of all, I could have not let James Sirius Potter kiss me.

Okay, so I hear you going ‘Dah? You mean James Sirius Potter, Harry Potters son, the most popular kid in school, and boyfriend of two years to Scarlett Macmillan?’ Well, yes, I mean precisely that James Sirius Potter. Okay, so I see you still don’t believe me - I'll give you the play-by-play.
 

***

I, for once, looked pretty good.

 

Ruth had been in a good mood and had helped me get dressed. She has great taste in clothes and had even offered to lend me something, but Ruth, no offence to her as I know she’s extremely sensitive about it, is a little chubby, and I weight approximately the same as a box of matches. So she’d hunted out my best clothes, a snazzy red top I’d never worn which kind of made my non-existent boobage look there, and some nice jeans. I’d wanted to wear heels too, I thought to hell with it, I might as well go all out - but then Ruth pointed out that me and Leo were toeing the line as it was, and it is so not cool to be taller than your date.

 

So I’d settled for flats and me and Ruth had gone downstairs to meet the boys. Ruth was going with the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, John Macmillan, twin brother of the infamous Scarlett. She was pretty chuffed about that. I am sadly unpopular and I’ve accepted it, but Ruth is always trying desperately to claw herself up to the level of Hogwarts royalty. I, of course, was going with Leo, my then-boyfriend.

 

We went through all the usual formalities, saying how great everyone else looked, blah, blah, blah. Then we went to the party. It was in the Room Of Requirement, as it was every year. I say every year - it was an annual thing, technically, because it was celebrating Roxanne Weasley’s birthday. But they did it every time one of the many, many Weasley cousins had a birthday, so parties at Hogwarts were pretty common. By now we all knew the drill.
 
And the drill was this - anyone who was either vaguely attractive, vaguely popular, or knew someone who was vaguely attractive or vaguely popular, could come. Slytherins were less welcome than some but the divide had lessened significantly in the past few years, especially since Albus Potter was in Slytherin.
 
If you were one of the cool kids, you had the run of the room. If you were one of the undesirables who had been graced with permission to attend, you had to talk to your own kind or wait at the edge until a popular approached you. So long as you didn’t piss anyone off or make a nuisance of yourself, you could pretty much do whatever.
 
Despite the illusion that all Ravenclaws care about is studying, a lot of us were regular attendees. I especially had a bit of a loathing for most of my lessons. Potions was the golden exception. So we weren’t afraid to let our hair down for this.
 
We arrived and almost immediately John and Ruth peeled away to go chat to Roxanne. I could tell that would be thrilling Ruth, because she loved any excuse to talk to a Weasley. They were, after all, the rulers of Hogwarts. Being friend with just one Weasley could make you eternally popular, even if it was a dithery one like Molly or an annoying one like Fred. I cared less about those sorts of things, and simply deposited our gift on the table and went to dance. That was one of the only rules at these parties - you had to bring a gift. Me and Ruth always just got them sweets. 

 

The night got later and later, as nights tend to do (it would have been weird if it had got earlier and earlier), until it was about Eleven O’clock. Me and Leo were dancing slowly, staring into each others eyes, probably drooling, just being generally disgusting and mushy.   Most people were either pissed, snogging, or both. All the corners and sofas were taken up with the writing bodies of strangers who would never speak again, and the spaces in between were taken up with trashed teenagers playing stupid games and falling over. And because this was the Room of Requirement, anyone who required a little more privacy could just ask for it and a bedroom would appear.
 
And this was my plan exactly. Because there was a reason I’d got dressed up in my prettiest outfit, straightened my hair and put on matching underwear.

I’d decided it was time to lose my virginity.

Ironic, no?

So once I decided nobody was sober enough to notice us slipping away I shot Leo a flirty look and led him by the hand to a little room that I made appear in an alcove. I locked the door carefully behind us and pushed him back onto the bed which dominated most of the tiny space.

 

And we made out.

 

Leo seemed to be getting thoroughly into it for a while. I took this as a sign of encouragement, and started getting a bit more enthusiastic. I hadn’t even had any beer at this point - I’d decided I didn’t want to run the risk of not remembering my first time, or screwing it up ‘cus I was pissed, which is really ironic - so I wasn’t quite sure where all my newfound confidence was coming from.

***

And that is how I lost my virginity to James Potter in a Broom Cupboard, and started my life as a complete and utter cliché.