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Chapter 9: Quidditch Practice, Orange Lollipops, and Veela Pretty Boys
“Alright. So, guys. This is the first practice of the year, as you already knew, so I’ll cut some slack. We haven’t played since last year. Well, we haven’t played together since last year. And we’ve got a new Beater. So…just go out there and do your best, and we’ll see what happens.” I said, looking around at my team.
“Brilliant speech, Captain.” Potter drawled, smirking lazily at me.
I glared at him.
Gah. I really want to just tell him to run a few laps like an evil bitch. But no. I must be fair.
Must. Resist. Temptation.
“Potter, I will make you run for disrespect, so do not push me.” I paused and glared at him again, and then took a breath and turned to the rest of the team. “Right. So, I want Freddy and the Krumster – sorry, Re, I just can’t resist – taking their anger out on the Bludger. Have fun. Try not to kill anyone. Unless it’s a Slytherin. But Scorp is cool. Don’t kill him. Yeah. I want Rose up by the goalposts, and us Chasers are going to shoot on you. And guys, this is not tryouts. We’re not here to show-off and prove whoever has the best shot. We’re here to work as a team and beat the living shit out of every other team. Oh, and Al, I’ll get the Snitch out. You find it three different times and I might give you a lollipop.”
“Will it be an orange lollipop?” Al queried, giving me a suspicious look.
Al has a weird obsession with orange lollipops.
“Bring it, Snitch!”
“…you’re weird. Anyways, we’re going to run five laps first to warm up, and then we’re going to stretch. After that, we’re gonna be in the air, doing our own thing. I’ll be flying around to make sure you guys didn’t get lazy over the summer, so watch yourselves. And Fred, I really do mean it about not hurting anyone. Particularly Al. Particularly before our Slytherin-Gryffindor match. PARTICULARLY before the last game of the season that decides whoever wins the Cup. Got it?”
“Yeah…” he muttered, shuffling his feet abashedly.
It has happened before. And no, I will never let him live it down.
“Alright. Let’s do this, guys!” I shouted, and then I turned and started running.
With some grumbling, the rest of the team joined in. As I ran, I felt a huge grin creep over my face. I love Quidditch. I also love running. So if you combine the two, I couldn’t be happier. I glanced back over my shoulder to see how the rest of my team was holding up (and also to analyze the social dynamics – or, to put it simply, how well the Krumster was fitting in) and saw Potter and Freddy running together – probably trying to see who could burst an artery first, considering the lovely puce shade their faces were turning, Lily and the Krumster racing each other and trash talking at the same time – or so I assumed from their expressions, Rose and Ash running and talking to each other, occasionally shooting glances in my direction, and Al was attempting to trip James whilst flipping his hair and tad bit more than was necessary for anyone.
I am never going to lock one of my friends in a broom cupboard ever again.
I don’t have a problem with doing that with a stranger, though. It’s fun. Just so long as nobody makes me feel guilty.
When we had finished the five laps (me finishing in front of everyone because I am such a beast), I led everyone in stretches. Potter bitched like an old woman the whole time, but I have developed a mature and effective way of tuning him out.
I picture him dying in a variety of painful and sadistically elaborate ways. It’s very satisfying and it keeps me from actually strangling him.
Or shooting him. Or cursing him. Or breaking his neck. Or poisoning him. Or making him run for the rest of his natural life. Or tricking him into an elaborate death maze. Or constructing a pit with poisoned spikes at the bottom. Or – well, I’m sure you get the general idea. I do something sadistically evil that ends in Potter’s death. Everyone’s happy. Except for the Savior of the Wizarding World. And his wife. And all of my friends. And several hundred fan girls.
But who cares about them?
“Potter, Lily, take the Quaffle and start passing to each other. I’ll join you in a few. Freddy and the Krumster – I really am sorry, Re, it’s just too funny – get the Bludger and your bats and have at it. Al, wait a second for me to get the Snitch out. Rose, go up to the goalposts and start blocking Potter and Lily’s shots. Feel free to humiliate Potter.” I said once we were done with stretches, ignoring Potter as he muttered something about my bossiness and/or bitchiness to Lily.
The Krumster smiled in a genuine manner at me before turning to go with Freddy to the crate were all the balls were. I’ve noticed that Re seems to be a quiet, nice, soft-spoken, refined young lady (when she’s not trash talking, which she has a surprising talent for) who also happens to have the muscles to throw Potter through several concrete walls.
“Myra, you need to stop expecting me to destroy James’s confidence; it’s impossible. Trust me. I’ve tried many, many, many times before and I have yet to even make progress.” Rose said, grinning cheekily at me before taking off and zooming up to the goalposts.
“Nothing’s impossible, Rose!” I called after her.
“Oh, believe me, whoever said that hadn’t met James and his ego!” She shouted back at me.
“Hey! I take offense to that! Don’t pretend like I’m not right bloody here!” Potter yelled from the ball crate, glaring at the both of us.
“Oops. Forget about you. Funny how you seem to just fade into the background like that.” I said snidely, giving him a nasty look.
He switched his glare from Rose to me and we engaged in a heated battle of dagger-esque glares. Until Lily chucked the Quaffle at my head, forcing me to catch it lest I end up with a broken nose. I promptly threw it back at her and then shoved my way past Potter to get to the ball crate. Pulling out the Snitch, I turned to Al and asked, “Ready?”
He nodded, so I released the winged golden ball, wincing slightly as the sun glanced off of it and right into my eyes.
They seriously need to stop making those things so shiny.
“It’s so on.” Al said threateningly, hopping on his broom and taking off after the Snitch.
“Lily, I don’t know how to put this, but your brother is totally insane.”
“Yeah, I know. And it’s only when it comes to Quidditch, pranking, and orange lollipops.”
“That’s what makes it so weird! I mean, normally he’s like, the most normal person out of all my friends, which isn’t really saying much, but still, but sometimes he’s just absolutely bonkers!”
“I can still hear you two!” Al yelled down to us from the sky.
“Oh, really? Dammit.” I muttered.
“Oi, Lils, ready to go?” Potter asked, shoving me aside and striding up to Lily, who was holding the Quaffle.
After catching my balance, I glared at Potter and flipped him off behind his back. I, however, chose to be the mature and poised adult and not actually bring his blatant lack of respect up and make him run until he literally could not run anymore.
Never mind that I really wanted to and only managed to not order him to do so by imagining it in my mind’s eye.
I should really never have children. They would be sociopaths with very violent natures.
“Yep,” Lily said to Potter, tossing him the Quaffle and then kicking off.
Potter followed her into the sky, but not before flipping me off and saying, “Oh, hey, Smithe? Does your ass every get jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth?”
Alright, that’s it.
“Potter, run five laps. Now.” I snapped, gritting my teeth to keep from letting loose with any number of snarky comebacks infused with enough to profanity to make a sailor blush.
Potter gaped at me, still hovering in midair, evidently not expecting me to actually do something about his disrespect. Though I have to hand it to him; that was an incredibly creative insult. Also one I’ve never heard before and shall have to remember.
“Listen, I don’t want to bring our personal issues into Quidditch. We both love it too much to just ruin it for both ourselves and everyone else on the team by just bickering all the time. And I can guaranty you that your constant bitching about everything I say or do is going to get old, and fast. So just shut up and run. Oh, and while you’re at it? Why don’t you think about what you just said to me and figure out how to show some respect to your captain. Or can you not show respect to anyone? Because it sure seems that way.”
Potter stared at me for a few moments, evidently totally shocked that I had dared mention the possibility of him actually growing the fuck up and becoming even remotely mature. I struggled to control my temper, quite aware of the fact that my hair was turning a violent shade of red. My eyes were quickly following suit, but I managed to stop them from turning, too.
“Holy shit,” Potter murmured, still looking at me like a deer caught in the headlights of a Hummer. “Wow. Um, I guess if you put it that way…” he trailed off, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“Yeah, I’m just going to go run those laps now…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and touching down fully. He leaned his broom up against the stands and started jogging.
I watched him go with a sense of extreme satisfaction. You might think that I wouldn’t hesitate to make my sworn enemy run, but I’m actually a bit more lenient with him than I am with the others. I just don’t want anyone to accuse me of being unfair, and I know that he wouldn’t hesitate to barge right into McGonagall’s office and tell her that I’m being stricter and crueler with him than I am with the rest of the team. And I know damn well that that would lead to her questioning my captaining ability and possibly deciding to remove me from my position and giving it to someone else. By “someone else” I mean Potter.
Despite that, however, I still love getting to order him around and run him into the ground.
I sighed, grabbed my own broom, and took off. I flew up towards Re and Freddy, who were both taking out every ounce of pent-up angst in their hormonal, teenage, angsty bodies on the Bludger.
Needless to say, I gave them a large berth.
Re looked like a fine Beater, and she slammed the Bludger towards Freddy with power and accuracy. After watching them for a few minutes, occasionally yelling at them to move farther apart or to make the other really try for a good hit on the Bludger, I zipped down to the ball crate and grabbed the other Bludger. Returning to them, I threw the Bludger towards Re. She reacted perfectly and whacked the Bludger back towards Freddy. He reacted perfectly, too, slamming it right back as if the Bludger had killed his parents and he was now getting his chance to exact revenge.
I backed up several meters on my broom, unconsciously wincing as they continued to whack the two Bludgers back and forth. I mean, I might be a tough and seasoned Quidditch player, but those things still scare the shit out of me.
Well, that is, until I’m full of adrenaline and playing a match. Then I really don’t care.
“Hey, Myra, heads!” I heard Lily call and I whipped around to see the Quaffle zooming straight towards my face. Reflexively my hands snapped up and I caught it. Without really thinking about it, I took off towards the goalposts where Rose was hovering. As I reached them, I launched myself into a Whirling Top, a move where I spun my broom around as fast as I could while still moving forward and then shot, hopefully having distracted the Keeper enough to get a good shot. Or hopefully giving me the ability to fake out the Keeper and then take an uncontested shot.
As the world blurred around me like an oil painting dripping at the seams, I saw a flash of a gold hoop and red hair and I pulled myself to a stop as fast as I could. While Rose gaped at me, hovering in front of the left goalpost, I threw the Quaffle in a perfect arc into the right goalpost. As it soared through, I sped after it and grabbed it, tucking it under my arm and shooting back up to a gape-mouthed Lily and Rose.
“Shut your mouths. You look like particularly stupid fish. Rose, you need to learn to guard against shots like that. I can take them, and that means that there’s a probability that other Chasers can, too. Lily, it wouldn’t do you any harm to learn to take a shot like that. Trust me, I’m not expecting you to be able to pull it off any time soon, but it would be a good idea to start moving out of your comfort zone and learning new shots.”
“Right…yeah. Holy shit.” Lily breathed. Rose nodded like a bobble-head doll from beside her, evidentially agreeing with her cousin on the matter of my beastliness.
“Do you want me to show it to you again so that you know what to do?” I asked, tossing the Quaffle from hand to hand absentmindedly.
“No, I’ve read about it before in Quidditch Weekly and Quidditch Through the Ages. Oh, and Mum always talks about it. Says that back before she switched to coaching, that was her signature move.” Lily said, regaining her ability to speak.
“Right-o. I’m going to go yell at Potter a bit. You two keep on working and I’ll be right back.”
I tossed the Quaffle to Lily and then zipped down to where Potter was standing, holding his broom, and staring blankly in my general direction.
“Potter! If you’re done running, then get in the air! We need to practice.” I barked, glaring at him as I landed and dismounted in one fluid motion.
“Yeah…practice. Right.” He mumbled, mounting his broom (that’s what she said!) and kicking off after me.
Quidditch is such a perverted sport. I mean, we’ve got so many balls! And they’re all so hard and so big!
If you’re not laughing right now, then there is something wrong with you. Either that or you’re choking to death because you were eating something when you read that.
I do apologize.
I flew up to the goalposts, followed closely by Potter, and caught a pass from Lily. I flew in towards the left hoop, and then passed quickly back to Potter while making it look like a shot. He sent the Quaffle flying through the right hoop.
I wish he wasn’t so good at Quidditch. It would make it easier to hate him.
After about two hours of shooting on Rose, occasionally checking up on Freddy and Re, and accepting the Snitch from Al three times to let it go again, I ended practice. We all trooped into the locker rooms, tired, dirty, and sweaty.
I headed straight for the showers, peeling off my clothes as I went. Rose yelped in surprise and disgust as I accidentally hit her in the face with my dirty shirt.
“Sorry, Rose, didn’t see you there!” I shouted to her as I cranked the shower on as hot as it could go and stepped in.
“Myra, you need to work on your aim! You’re supposed to be a Chaser, for Merlin’s sake!” she yelled at me.
I grinned and chuckled as I soaped my arms and torso up.
Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the girl’s shower rooms with a towel wrapped around my body. I sauntered into the locker rooms and opened up my locker. Pulling out a pair of worn black skinny jeans, a ratty t-shirt with a picture of a decapitated Barbie doll on it, and a bra and panties, I quickly changed into my underwear.
“Nice bra, Smithe. Where’d you get that? I might have to get something for Alexis there.”
I froze in the middle of pulling on my shirt.
Of course, I’m also wearing the lacy black bra with the little red bows on it that I bought on a dare at Victoria’s Secret, so I guess I was just asking for it.
“Potter, this is the girl’s locker rooms. Girl’s. Not boy’s. Unless you’re hiding something from us?” I said, yanking my shirt on and turning around to face Potter, which turned out to be a mistake considering he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Dammit. Why does he have to have such perfect abs? I’m a sucker for a six-pack, and he’s got a mother-bleeding eight-pack. It’s not fair, I tell you, just not fair.
“Well, from the way you’re assaulting my abs with your eyes, I’m going to say that I’m definitely a bloke. Unless you’re volunteering to check?” he cocked one suggestive eyebrow at me, and I rolled my eyes.
“No thanks. You’re not really my type. I prefer guys who aren’t jackasses.”
“Really? Too bad.”
Without looking at him, I pulled my jeans on and laced up my Chuck Taylors. I walked over to the door, socked him in the stomach, and pushed past him.
“You know, you don’t have to be so hostile and violent all the time!” he called after me.
I flipped him the bird and kept on walking.
“Freddy, what are you doing?”
“Sh! Don’t talk! You migh’ – you migh’ upset ’im.” Freddy slurred, cradling his empty bottle of firewhiskey to his chest like one might hold a baby.
“Freddy, would you care to explain why you’re hammered and why I’m not drinking with you?”
Freddy looked at me wide-eyed from his position curled in the corner of our dorm. He stroked his firewhiskey bottle absentmindedly as he watched me like a little kid watches a particularly interesting and shiny beetle.
I had come back up from dinner after practice to find Freddy, who had been absent during dinner - something that worried no one, considering that this was Freddy – piss drunk and staggering around our dorm.
“Freddy,” I said, crouching down in front of him and speaking very slowly so as to make sure he could understand what I’m saying. Sometimes when Freddy drinks the only language he can understand is Gobbledygook, so one must always enunciate around a drunk Freddy. “Why are you drinking?”
He stared at me for a few seconds, during which I could see the wheels in his brain turning. “Amy.” He finally said simply, as though that explained everything.
“Amy.” I repeated flatly.
“Wait…don’t you fancy Amy?”
“Shhh! Don’ talk sho loud!” Freddy said urgently, abandoning his firewhiskey bottle to wave his hands around like he was trying to ward off a massive swarm of mosquitoes while having a seizure. “Amy…Amy’s gotta boyfriend.” Freddy snarled, angry even in his alcohol-laden state.
“Okay. You know what? You’re going to lie down and sleep this off now.” I hauled Fred bodily to his feet, wrenched the firewhiskey bottle out of his hands, and shoved him onto his bed. He fell asleep almost instantly.
I glanced down at the bottle of firewhiskey in my hands and then glanced back up at the sleeping boy in front of me. Shrugging, I capped the bottle and walked into the bathroom, where we kept our stash of firewhiskey. After putting it away (okay, maybe I drank some, too), I headed back towards Freddy’s unconscious body.
I prodded his arm and upon deciding that he was asleep, I twitched the hangings closed. He’s going to have a bitch of a headache tomorrow.
Just as I was about to take a running leap onto my own bed and fall into a blissful sleep, there was a loud banging on the door.
If that’s Smithe, then so help me God I will fucking murder her.
But not before I stare at her rack. Merlin, that bra was sexy.
“James! JAMES! GODDAMMIT, OPEN THIS DOOR OR I SWEAR ON MY NAME AS A MARAUDER THAT I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE UPON YOUR SORRY ARSE!”
Fuck. That’s Mary.
I raced over to the door and wrenched it open. The second there was even a crack between the doorframe and the door, Mary came barreling in, shoving me out of the way and diving into a pile of clothes and unopened textbooks lying in between Jake’s and Freddy’s beds. I watched in astonishment as she proceeded to conceal herself with an old t-shirt and some jeans and then peek out at me from underneath the fabric.
“I pissed off Louis Weasley again,” she hissed at me, narrowing her eyes furtively as she talked. “Make sure he doesn’t find me!”
I just stared at her in shock for a few seconds before the sound of footsteps outside on the stairs brought me back to the land of the living. I turned to face the door in time to see my flustered cousin race past, skid to a halt, and then jog back to me to ask, “Say, James, I don’t suppose you’ve seen a little red-haired devil woman running through here recently?”
My cousin Louis is a pretty-boy Veela who has not managed to morph the prettiness into hotness as of yet.
Meaning, he looks like a particularly flat-chested girl most of the time instead of looking like the masculine embodiment of male hotness like the rest of his male family members.
We’re a very manly family, in all.
“A little red-haired devil?”
“Yeah. Red hair, dark eyes, really tiny, my age, and probably running for her life.”
“Um. No. No, I haven’t seen anyone like that go by.”
Well, technically I haven’t. She came in. She did not run by.
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Louis, I am sure.” I sighed, starting to edge the door closed, which was my subtle hint to him to go away so Mary didn’t asphyxiate in the pile of clothes she was currently curled up in.
“Dammit. I thought for sure I had that bitch.” He growled, looking like somewhat manly for once, instead of just looking pretty.
Anger brings out the best in us Weasley/Potter men.
“That bitch?” I questioned, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.
Nobody calls Mary a bitch. Goddammit, she’s my sister, for fuck’s sake!
Well, not really, but biology aside…
“Yeah. She’s a fucking bitch, and I swear to Merlin I’m going to fucking kick her ass one of these days! She’s a stupid, no-talent, pathetic excuse for a Gryffindor who –”
“Fuck you, Louis Weasley!” I heard Mary yell from behind me and turned around slowly to see her standing in the middle of the pile of discarded clothes and textbooks, looking absolutely terrifying despite the pair of boxers sticking to her long hair.
“Jesus Christ, O’Connor, I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Louis screeched like a demented harpy, whipping out his wand and pointing it straight at her.
“Aw hell nah, bitch.” I said, snapping my fingers in sassy Z formation before grabbing Louis’s wand and wrenching it out of his hand.
He stared at me in shock. Mary facepalmed and muttered something that sounded distinctly like, “we need to work on your manliness, James”.
“Oi! I am very manly! I snog women. I shag them. I have glorious abs and a shitload of Quidditch talent. I am respected by many people in this school.”
“James, you’re only respected by them because they’re all too scared of your family to do anything but respect you.”
“Mary, you’re such a killjoy.”
“How am I a killjoy for telling the truth?”
“Because you just are. Face it, Mary, it’s the truth.”
“OI!” Louis finally screamed, interrupting Mary as she had just opened her mouth to say something in response. “Are you two friends?!” Louis squeaked, glaring viciously at Mary while she rolled her eyes in our general direction and flicked out her long hair.
“Well, yes. She’s a Marauder.” I said, calmly walking over to her and slinging my arm around her shoulders. “BLOODY OW, WOMAN!” I yelled mere seconds later, clutching my arm in pain as she glared at me.
She bit me. She fucking bit me. I swear to God she’s fucking insane.
“James, I always bight people who put their arm around my shoulders. It’s kind of an instinct. So suck it, bitch.”
Only Mary could get away with calling James Sirius Potter (son of the Chosen One, infamous prankster of Hogwarts, and incredibly attractive) a bitch.
Because we’re tight, bro.
I pouted (in a very manly fashion) and then turned to glare at Louis, who had assumed an expression of shock. It was very entertaining. His eyes were bugging out and his mouth was flapping open and looked like he was trying to comprehend something as ludicrous as Voldemort suddenly announcing that he wanted to start a charity to help orphans.
“Fuck off, Louis. You and I will have words later, by the way. You are not off the hook.”
Louis just stood there, gaping at me. “B – but I’m your cousin.” He finally stuttered.
“Yeah, so? Bros before hoes, dude.” I said, shrugging.
Louis didn’t move, despite the death glare Mary was giving him.
I know she was giving him a death glare because I happened to glance back at her and I almost pissed my pants. Maybe Pretty Boy Louis actually has a spine.
“Louis, last warning. Move or a I move you.” I practically snarling, starting to get angry.
Nobody fucks with Mary. I don’t care if you’re family. I will ruin you, ho.
“I’m not fucking leaving. That bitch needs to answer for what she just did to me.” Louis snapped, glaring at Mary.
Unfortunately, Pretty Boy’s Veela blood means he can honestly get slightly terrifying when he gets pissed. And he’s getting pissed right now.
“Fine.” I growled.
I stalked up to Louis and grabbed him by the front of the shirt and hauled his sorry arse bodily out of the room. I slammed and locked the door after him, but not before shooting him the bird.
Family loyalty only goes so far when Mary’s honor, dignity, and physical well-being are on the line.
“James, you need to stop being so bloody strong.” Mary said from behind me, letting out an angry huff.
“What’d you do this time?” I asked, turning around and taking a running leap onto my bed.
She raised an eyebrow at me from where she stood upon seeing me acting like a ten-year-old at a slumber party but decided not to mention anything. Instead she sighed resignedly and sat down at the foot of my bed.
“Well, I kind of slipped some Truth Serum in his pumpkin juice at dinner while he was hitting on our class slut. You know, that tiny blond bitch who always goes around wearing push-up bras with her skirt hiked up to her ass and her shirt practically falling off?” she asked, glancing at me.
I screwed up my face and tried desperately to remember if I had seen anyone like that parading through the halls and disgracing the name of Hogwarts recently.
Well, Alexis and Raven do that plenty. But they’re cool. Mostly ’cause if the boys and I get desperate, they’re always game. Not too bad, either.
“Uh, well, no one’s really coming to mind, but I can picture her just from that description.”
“Yeah. Well, basically like Alexis and Raven. Combined. Anyways, Louis was hitting on her – guess he was desperate – but then he took a sip of his drink and started telling her exactly what he thought of her. It was absolutely hilarious. He called her ugly, slutty, disgusting, desperate, pretty much everything you can think of to call your class slag. But then the Serum wore off and he realized what had happened. Of course, at this point I was laughing hysterically and he assumed I was the culprit. And so the chase ensued, which you just saw the end of. By the way, thanks for getting rid of him. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t have pulled that one off on my own.” Mary finished with a grateful smile in my direction.
“Hey, no prob. Bros before hoes.”
Mary burst out laughing at this nugget of information and managed to splutter in between bursts of laughter, “Bros – before – hoes?”
“What, you’ve never heard that before? Well, you’re my bro. Louis’s just a ho who happens to be related to me, but let’s just gloss over that little fact, yeah?”
Mary just tipped her head back and laughed, obviously enjoying my revelation a bit too much.
I glared at her, affronted that she was laughing at my wisdom.
After she managed to shut up, she asked me, in all seriousness, “Why is there a Freddy-shaped lump on his bed?”
“Oh. Um. He got pissed because he fancies Amy Love and she’s got a boyfriend – which is news to me – and now he’s sleeping it off.”
Mary frowned slightly and crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at me.
Oh shit. What did I do.
“I want to meet your friends. I mean, I know Myra and the rest of the Marauders. And, of course, I know who Amy and Jake and Dominique and the other people you hang out with are, but I want to meet them. Seriously. There is so much unexplored pranking potential there.” She said earnestly, opening her eyes wide to show her enthusiasm.
Only Mary would want to meet my friends so that she could prank them.
“Er, well, I guess you can meet them. But go easy on the pranking, okay? They’ll probably let you slide a few times, but after that they’ll start to get pretty pissed at you. Mind you, I’m not saying not to prank them, I’m just saying to be careful about it.”
“So basically it’s a challenge?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” I said, shrugging.
I love how I barely have to explain anything to Mary. She just picks up on stuff so quickly.
Mary yawned and stretched. “Hey, James, can I stay here tonight?” She asked suddenly.
I blinked at her in surprise for a second and then asked, “Why? Your dorm is only a few minutes away.”
“Because I have a nasty feeling that Louis is lying in wait for me down in the Common Room, where you won’t be able to save me from his evil Veela-ness.”
“You know, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that was the truth. But I could walk out with you and make sure he doesn’t go all Veela pretty boy on your arse.” I said, absentmindedly running a hand through my hair and staring off into the distance.
Well, I was actually staring at the weird bat-shaped neon stain on the wall (don’t ask).
Mary stiffened and turned to glare at me. “No. I’m not some weak little quivering damsel in distress who can’t handle one bloke with a foul temper and wicked Bat Bogey Hex – oh, and a grudge against me, and me alone – without her older, stronger male friend to back her up!” She ranted, her cheeks flaring red in anger.
Bloody Irish bloody temper.
“Alright, alright, that’s not going to happen!” I exclaimed, holding up my hands in supplication. “Just don’t bight my head off. Here, you can take my bed and I’ll kip with…” I trailed off, looking around the dorm to see if there was anyone I could share with.
I sighed begrudgingly and flicked my wand at Freddy’s bed, extending it so that I could sleep in it without being forced to have unwanted physical contact with Freddy.
Of course, Fred is never someone you want to get too close to when he’s drunk or otherwise intoxicated.
Mary smiled and thanked me before pulling her own wand out of her school skirt’s waistband and sauntering off into the bathroom. Before she closed the door, she seemed to remember something and poked her head out to ask me, “Hey, do you have any old clothes that I could use as pajamas?”
I nodded and pulled an old Hollyhead Harpies t-shirt out of my trunk and a pair of old flannel pajama pants with Quaffles on them.
I have a lot of Quidditch-oriented clothing. It’s a Potter/Weasley thing.
A few minutes later, Mary stepped out of the bathroom wearing the t-shirt and pants I had provided, with her long, red hair braided down her back. She yawned again as she sleepily climbed into my bed and curled up. She fell asleep almost instantly and I looked at her for a second, thinking about it.
A few weeks, I didn’t even know she went to Hogwarts. And now she’s like my second baby sister. I don’t feel weird seeing her wearing my old clothes and sleeping in my bed. It’s the same way I would feel if Lily did the exact same thing.
I smiled gently at her (never, ever, ever will I admit I have ever “smiled gently” at anyone) before I padded off to the bathroom and then went to bed myself, making sure to not accidentally incite some drunken-Fred rage in the night.
It has happened before.
My ribs will never be the same again.
“Dom, I’m going to fucking kill your cousin! He fucking walked in on me on purpose while I was changing! And guess what? I was wearing that Victoria’s Secret bra Amy dared me to buy last summer!” I screeched the second I crossed the threshold into the dorm, my hair turning red almost instantly and my cheeks flushing.
“Well, that’s because he’s in love with you. Duh. Oh, I bet you guys had some hot snogging in there while you were at it! How was it, hmm?” Dom asked with a few lewd and scarring winks thrown in my direction as she quite literally cart-wheeled into the bathroom.
I just gaped after her in shock.
“Dom, we’re not dating or in love.” I droned emotionlessly, having repeated the exact same thing many times before.
“Oh, you just keep telling yourself that, love! I know the truth; but don’t worry! Your secret’s safe with me.”
Dear Merlin, I need to lock Dom up now.
This cannot be put off anymore. It must happen immediately.
“Four galleons on crack, four galleons on crack…” I murmured to myself as I changed into my pajamas, which consisted of an XXXXL t-shirt bearing the slogan “just plain awesome”, complete with the red M&M (the Muggle candy) in a badass-I’m-fucking-A pose.
“Bitch, she’s on acid, I’m telling you.” Amy snarled quietly from next to me, where she was carefully French braiding her long hair.
“Mm-mm, girl! It’s crack.” I responded, cocking my hip and crossing my arms sassily.
“You’re so wrong. I will win that money.”
“Oh, sure you will. Just like you won that bet we took out on how long it would take you to get a new boyfriend?” I quirked an eyebrow at her, smirking in a decidedly Potter-esque manner.
Amy glared at me and, after she finished braiding, got up and stalked stiff-legged up to me. When she reached me, she brought her leg back as if to kick me in the shin, and I instantly screamed in panic and ran away to cower against the wall in terror.
Amy is never to be underestimated. Particularly when it comes to kicking.
“Don’t mention the boyfriend! Anyways, it’ll only last about two weeks before I break it off. Nothing major.” She said dismissively, waving her hand to indicate how trivial this matter was.
Amy goes through boyfriends like some people go through crappy teen romance novels. It all started back in Fifth Year, when Amy finally realized that she’s fancied Freddy for as long as she’s known him. Of course, Amy being Amy, she immediately decided the best course of action would be to start dating random boys like crazy instead of face up to her feelings like a mature almost-adult.
Now she actually is an adult and she has yet to do anything about it.
Anyways, we just met the first boyfriend of this year tonight at dinner. Well, I say met. Amy dragged him over, told us his name, and then dismissed him back to the Hufflepuff table.
I think his name is Sam, but I’m not entirely sure.
Occasionally glancing fearfully over at the Vicious Kicker, otherwise known as My Best Friend Amy, I brushed and flossed my teeth and then took a running leap into my glorious bed. Sighing happily, I settled down into the fluffy, comfortable, warm heaven and quickly fell asleep while listening to Dom sing a French lullaby under her breath and Amy hum Bad Romance softly as she “moisturized”.
I’m so used to their various musical tastes and the fact that they enjoy singing/humming right before bed I actually have trouble falling asleep without them there to demonstrate their musical talent.
I hope this chapter is adequate, and i also hope the wait wasn't too long. I’ve tried to expand upon Amy and Dom as characters. Jake, Scorpius, and Al will come next chapter (probably). maybe some more krumster action.
speaking of, if you don't get where "krumster" came from, go and read the second chapter again. it's explained there.
So, Louis. How do you like him? jerk? Prat? Awesome? What do you think? Please tell me! I love reviews like I love my own M&M Just Plain Awesome t-shirt (yes, I really do have one. They sell them at the M&M store in NYC).