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Vanilla Spice by EffyFoSho
Chapter 13 : Ladybird
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 22

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A/N: Sorry I haven't added a new chapter in what feels like FOREVER but I was enjoying one of the few days of English sun. I like to think I have a tan now. Anyway, I'm also sorry if this chapter isn't actually that good - I've had a bit of a writer's block lately and it actually took me ages to finish. But, on the plus side, I think it's one of the longest chapters I've submitted.

Lying on my bed, with a box of ice cream which I occasionally shove heaped spoonfuls of it into my mouth. Hally, Nessa and Tracey are either lying on the bed with me or hovering nervously by the edge of it and Dom is lying on her own, pretending I’m not talking about her cousins but about some other people.

“Katie came up to you?” Hally gasps once I’ve finished telling my audience what had just happened.

“Yes,” I murmur miserably and eat some ice cream.

“And James came into your detention?” Nessa asks.

“Yes.” More ice cream.

“And Megan tried to make Katie tell but she didn’t?” Dom says, sitting up on her bed, looking quite pleased with this theory.


“Fascinating,” Dom breathes. “Maybe Katie isn’t all troll after all.”

“Hello!” I call. “Back to my problems.”

“Right-oh, sorry,” Dom replies. “So, what did black-hair do when Megan told him?” ‘Black-hair’ is Dom’s way of referring to her cousins without actually saying there name. Apparently it keeps out the ‘nasty images.’

“He took his arm off of me.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Hally mutters, making me send her a withering look.

“Or it might be more than good,” Tracey says, looking thoughtful. “It means that he was hurt you kissed Freddie.”

“Which means he likes you more than a friend,” Nessa adds, as the rest of us stare at them in slight wonder due to their amazing deduction skills.

“Wait... that’s bad,” Dom puts in. “She wants Freddie to like her.”

“Freddie does like her.”

“Yes, Nessa, nice going,” Hally grins. “And she only likes Freddie more because he kissed her first.”

“I don’t really like being referred to as ‘she’ when I’m in the room, just so you know.”

“Mollie, focus!”

“I am focusing! But I don’t like James like that.”

“Then why, Mollie,” Hally sighs heavily, giving me a look. “Are you lying on your bed eating ice-cream after James took his arm off of you?”

I blink. “Um... er, I’m not sure.”

“Then you like James, as well.”

“But I don’t.”

“No, no, Mollie,” Dom pipes up, probably preventing a future of ‘I don’t-You do’s’ being started. “You think you don’t like him. But you do.”

“But I don’t.” Well, maybe not stopping the battling war.

“No, you just think you don’t. But you do.”

“I don’t.”

Nessa looks from me to Dom and sits down beside me, making the bed dip. “Let’s drop this. Now, what did you do when James took his arm off of you?”

“Well, I said, ‘Oh, is that the time? I better be off to bed! I’m shattered!’”

“And it was only eight-thirty?”


“How embarrassing.”

“Oh, thanks for that, Dom,” I say dryly. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

“You do know, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” Don replies.

“You be quiet. Sarcasm rocks.”

“But it’s not funny.”

“It’s hilarious! I’m a hoot!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nessa interjects, looking slightly confused. “If James found out about you and Freddie, Megan told him, Katie might not be a mindless clone and you like two guys at once then how on earth is your hair is blue?”



“So, Hally told me that you told James that she liked Geoff,” Dom brings up conversationally as we walk to the Hospital Wing to fix my hair, ignoring yet another call of ‘Nice hair!’

“It was an accident!”

“You do know James is probably the biggest gossip in the school?”

“Hey, that’s a little unfair, I think,” I reply just as we push open the hospital door. “He’s only told one person.”

“That we know of,” Dom corrects me. “He’s only told one person that we know of. He could have told the whole world and we wouldn’t know.”

“Mollie!” Ms Ruck exclaims, rushing over to me. “Do you want me to fix your hair?”

“Hey, Martha,” I say. She actually insists I call her by her first name because she ‘knows me,’ probably due to the fact that I am constantly in the Hospital Wing. “I would love for you to fix my hair.”

“It was James,” Dom puts in, trying to be helpful, and Ms Ruck faffs around with her wand while muttering some sort of spell.

“All fixed!” She declares proudly, stowing her wand away in her pocket. “Want to see a mirror?”

“Hahahaha,” Dom snorts.

 Ms Ruck passes the mirror to me. “Uh... miss – Martha, my hairs still blue.”

“Yes,” she nods. “But it’s straight.”

“You call getting rid of my curls ‘fixing it?’” I whine, plopping the mirror down on the side table. “I meant the colour! It’s supposed to be blonde!”

“Oh. Oh, dear,” Ms Ruck says. “I just thought it was the new fashion. To have blue hair.”


“Why would anybody want blue hair?!”

“Quieten down, I’ll fix it in a jiffy,” Ms Ruck tuts, retreating back in her office for a potion or two after it’s apparent that a spell won’t work. When she does emerge, she’s carrying about five different potions, all a faint yellow colour. “Now which one matches your original hair colour?”

Dom’s mouth drops open. “Oh, wow! You could dye your hair, say, red!”

“I like being blonde. We can’t have two redheads and a brunette.”

“Oh, Merlin, that again,” Dom sighs. “I didn’t want to tell you this but Hally’s hair is naturally dirty blonde.”

My mouth drops open. “What?”

“She dyed it two years ago because she got bored with it,” Dom explains in a soothing tone. “She loves it brown.”

I gape at her. “B-but we all have different hair colours!”

“Her hair was that colour,” Dom says, ignoring me, as she points to the one most like my original colour. Ms Ruck hands the potion to me which I immediately chug back, feeling slightly relieved that Dom hasn’t persuaded me to choose a red potion. “And if we don’t go now, we’re going to be late for DADA.”

I snort. “Since when have you ever minded about being late?”

She ignores me, instead choosing to pull me up on my feet and drag me out of the room. It’s a funny thing being pulled along the corridor by a freakishly strong redhead and one that I didn’t particularly mind. In fact, I kind of enjoyed it. Dom, on the other hand, looked determined to reach the classroom before the late bell went. Of course, she succeeded. She always bloody does.

“Alright, class,” the teacher says, clapping his hands together to silence everyone. “Today we are going to duel with each other. Find your partners now.”

Teachers must know that this often causes general chaos and hurt feelings in classrooms and yet they still insist on doing it. But, luckily for me, this was the week where I was being painstakingly obvious and in your face to Freddie (Rule Number 7.) I charge up to him with a large grin on my face, trying to dodge the other pairs. He winks at me.

“What happened to your hair?” He asks when I reach him.

“The nurse ‘fixed it.’”

“It looks nice.”

I beam at him. “Thanks. Partners?” I ask, making sure to bat my eyelashes at him.

“Someone’s a little desperate for the Fred-Meister,” Freddie smirks as he whips out his wand.

“I’m not desperate,” I pull a face at him. “Mollie Pert doesn’t get jealous.”

“You’re doing the third person thing again.”

“Well,” I reply, also pulling out my wand as the teacher counts down from three. “You started it with ‘Fred-Meister.’”

“Yes, but I can pull it off, Mollie,” Fred smirks. “You really can’t.”

“You don’t have to be so mean about it-”


“EEK!” I squeal as I’m knocked back off of my feet by Fred’s stupid spell and sent crashing into the soft, foam floor that the teacher (thankfully) conjured up. I open my eyes to find Freddie standing above me with a half-smile on his face, looking like the cocky arse he is.

“You alright down there?” Freddie asks and reaches his hand out towards me.

“You arse,” I growl, deliberately ignoring his hand and helping myself up. I brush myself down. “I’m going to get you for that.”

“Go on, then.”

“I will ‘go on then,’” I reply. “Wait... that didn’t really make sense-”

“Locomotor Mortis!”

Well, that irked me. “Do you mind?!” I screech, trying to ignore Freddie’s smirk as I bounce around in a feeble attempt to walk with my legs locked together.

“Not at all.” Bastard.

And that did it for me. The cocky grin and the ‘not at all’ actually triggered my crazy bitch duelling mode and, boy, did I feel slightly maniacal as I threw hex after hex at him. And, what’s worse is, Freddie had managed to continually block most of them and a damn crowd had begun to surround us, obviously bored with their poor attempt at duelling.

People are going to be terrified of me after this. I’m like the evil-witch version of Superman. But a girl.

“Woo!” I turn to see James cheering at me from the side-lines. “Go Mollie!” Obviously he got over the little ‘incident’ yesterday. Or maybe he just likes seeing me beat Freddie. “Use Levicorpus!”

“Hey!” Freddie protests, again blocking another of my hexes. “Don’t help her! She’s going to beat me as it is-”

“Levicorpus!” I shout and Fred’s eyes widen as he’s lifted up by his ankle, thus making his robes hang by his head and his trousers rise to expose his lower leg. Hally smacks her head in exasperation and everybody else laughs as they take in the scene. I would have laughed too if I wasn’t so deep in thought. And do you know what I was so deep in thought about? The damn Rules. Stupid Hally and her head smacking.

I take a step closer towards Freddie, and he looks a little alarmed. I take a deep breath. “Freddie...”

“Listen, I’m sorry I hexed you when you were off-guard but are you honestly going to-”

“-Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?” A hushed silence falls over the class. That’s it. I’ve done it. It’s out there now and there is no way to take it back. Bullocks.

“Come again?”

“No, no!” I exclaim, vaguely aware that the whole room has stopped what they’re doing to watch me being a fool. “I take it back!”

“You can’t take it back!”

I scowl at him. “I can, too! There are no rules or anything.”

“You can’t take it back,” he insists, looking determined.

 “Fine! Fine, I can’t take it back! Happy now?”

Freddie smirks. From upside down it looks slightly maniacal. “Ecstatic.”

“Okay, uh-huh,” I nod happily. “I really don’t take it back, then.”

“Atta, girl,” he grins at me. “Say it again, then.”

I blush, averting the curious stares of the crowd by looking at the ground. “I don’t want to...” I hear Hally smacking her head again.

Freddie snickers. “Fine. Mollie, will you go to Hogsmeade with me?”

I let him down then. I mean, how could I let my date have a purpler head by the second? I couldn’t, that’s how. “Okay, then.”

And that’s also when the whole class bursts into applause and when I blush the darkest red known to man. I think I even outdid Hally’s ‘Aiden blushing.’

“Quieten down, everybody,” the teacher says, banging against the board to get our attention. “Ms Pert, I would prefer you not to- Mr Potter! Where do you think you’re going?”

“James?” I ask in confusion to the back of James’s head as he strolls out of the classroom, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Where are you- Dom?”

She follows him at a much faster pace, probably not willing to be left out of one of the infamous Potter/Weasley storm outs.

“Ms Weasley! Get back here!” The teacher barks to no avail. When the door slams behind her, everyone looks expectantly at me.

“Uh... James turned my hair blue yesterday.”

Hally slaps her head again.



“Hally, baby,” I say, slinging my arm around her neck. “I’m going on a date with Freddie. You didn’t think I’d get a date by Saturday.”

“Miracles do happen, I guess,” she shrugs, trying to remove my arm off her shoulders. “But you weren’t meant to ask him out.”

“Er... why?”

“Because he’s the guy. It’s bad luck or something.”

“Hally, that’s bull,” I chortle. “He said my hair was nice. That’s not bad luck.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Do you have any idea where Dom went?”

“Well, she went off with James,” I inform her matter-of-factly.

Hally rolls her eyes at me, giving up on trying to free herself from my grip. “I know that, genius, I was there.”

“I suggest checking the dormitory first.”

“Why the dormitory?”

“Dom has a secret chocolate stash under her bed.”

“Good enough for me.”

The journey from the DADA classroom to the Gryffindor common room, in my opinion, couldn’t get any longer. Who’s bright idea was it to have moving staircases? It’s times like these, trying not to fall over the edge of the banister, when I miss Beauxbatons. They never had moving staircases.

Unfortunately, I never got my/Dom’s chocolate for she was sitting on her bed, looking, if possible, more haughty then I’d ever seen her.

“Now where is the damn chocolate- Dom!” Hally exclaims, popping up behind me. “Er, we were just looking for you. Right, Mollie?” She nudges me in the side.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Do you have any chocolate under your bed?”

Then I knew that something was wrong. Because Dom didn’t berate me like she usually does when I find her secret stash of sweets for the umpteenth time. “I need to talk to you, Mollie.”

I really, really don’t like Dom and I’s talks. In fact, I hate them. Nothing good comes out of them.

I open my mouth to protest but Dom just shoves Hally outside, ignoring her feeble protests, and points me to a corner of her room. “Are you serious about dating Freddie?” She demands with her hands on her hips.

I blink at her. Was I serious about dating Freddie? What did I just do in front of a crowd of twenty five people? “Uh, yes.”

“You don’t sound very sure,” she points out.

“Er... I am,” I assure her. “Can I have some chocolate now?”

Dom sighs. “It’s in the common room under the small armchair.”

Oh, yes. Dom just willingly told me where her new secret stash is. I must be getting really good at the doe-eyed look.

I stick my tongue out at Hally as I pass and she gives me a confused look which I chose, wisely I might add, to ignore. What wasn’t so wise was me looking generally gobsmacked that there was actually no chocolate under the couch and me crawling on my hands in knees as I peeked under it.

I may have to kill Dom.


Scratch that. I may have to do something way worse to her. Like shave her head when she sleeps.

“James!” I exclaim, jumping to my feet and brushing myself off.

 He scrutinises me. “Ew, what happened to your hair?”

“What do you mean?” I whine, fingering a strand of my now completely straight hair.

“It’s just so...” James pauses, obviously trying to find the right word without offending me. “Normal.”

Well, that wasn’t the right word at all.

“So my hair wasn’t normal before?”


I scowl at him. “Fred likes it.”

“Well, he would, wouldn’t he?” James replies easily, not seeming at all ruffled by my pathetic excuse for an outburst. “You being his girlfriend, and all.”

“Uh... I guess...”

“You do realise everybody dresses up on Halloween?”

“I’ve got to go on a date in fancy dress?!” I ask, just to, you know, clarify. Because I’m officially screwed. I do hate wearing fancy dress because I either come across as a five year old who’s eaten a little too much chocolate or a teenager trying to blend in with the little kids and beg sweets off of people.

“Everybody does. It’s tradition.”

“What are you being?”

“Easy,” he smirks, flopping down heavily on the coach. “I’m going to be Simba.”

Oh, dear Lord.

“Simba?” I repeat dubiously. “You’re going to be a Disney character?”

“I’m a lion.”

“James,” I sigh, sitting beside him, and patting his knee. “Simba made you cry.”

James looks fixated at my hand on his knee. “Uh-huh.”

Well, this isn’t slightly awkward at all.

“What should I be?” I say a little too brightly as I remove my hand and shift over so our legs aren’t touching.

“You could be... uh,” he clears his throat, “um, possibly... Mike Myers in drag?”

I hit him for that. I hope he’s being sarcastic. And if he is he should really leave it to the pro’s. Namely, me. Not him. Never him.

I am, after all, a hoot.


Oh, buggering bullocks, it’s two hours till I’m meeting Freddie in the hall for our ‘date’ and I still haven’t decided what I’m going to go as. Dom helping me decide by throwing random suggestions my way, already dressed as what she claims is a ‘pirate.’ Which in her case is unbelievably tight jeans, heel boots and a shirt that is tied in a knot so it rests above her belly button.

“What about a lion?”

“I can’t be a lion,” I hiss, still running frantically from bed to bed. “James is a lion. We can’t match!”

“Oh, the horror.”

If I didn’t need her so desperately right now, I probably would have screamed myself hoarse at her.

Dom sits up suddenly. “I have it! You can be a ladybird! I have a red and black polka dot dress!”

“Dom, do I ever tell you how brilliant you are? Because you are brilliant.”

“It sometimes pains me how brilliant I am.”

I let out a snort as Dom hands me the dress. Let’s just let her think that it was at her incredibly ‘funny’ comment and not at how hideous the dress is. Because it really was awful.

Dom grins, obviously encouraged by my little laugh. “In fact, I am so brilliant that it’s utterly impossible-”

“-Know when to stop.”

Dom pouts, keeping quiet as she hands me a pair of wings and antennae’s. Where she got them I had no idea and, to be honest, this time I didn’t really care. I took them gratefully.

“You’re going to be the most amazing ladybird ever,” Dom breathes in a state of awe after we’ve finished, inspecting me from my antennae’s down to my furry black legwarmers. She’d even given me black eyeshadow. “In fact, you were probably a ladybird in your past life.”

“I was not a bug. I was probably someone great like Ghandi.”

“Keep dreaming,” Dom scoffs, and then checks her watch. “You’re going to be late if you don’t go now.”

Butterflies explode in my tummy. “Nngh-okay.”


The tables in the great hall were littered with carved pumpkins and it was fairly obvious Hogwarts was eager to join in on the festivities. What wasn’t obvious was why none of the students were. And, as we neared the doors, it became clearer and clearer that I was the only person in a fancy dress costume, apart from Dom who really doesn’t count seeing as she’s in jeans and a shirt.

I turn to her, alarmed. “Why is no one else dressed up?”

I’m dressed up,” she informs me as I ignore another giggle from a passing group of girls. “Maybe they didn’t get the message.”

“I thought it was tradition.”

“Er... yeah, it is. As of today.”

My mouth drops open as it dawns on me why Dom was so eager for me to be a ladybird, why James seemed unbothered by me dating Freddie (not that I minded, of course) and why the hell Dom had a hideous ladybird dress when she has amazing fashion sense. “You stitched me up! You and James!”

“Of course we didn’t,” Dom chides, clucking her tongue, and then opens the door and shoves me into the hall. Where people are most definitely not in fancy dress.

My life sucks.

“Dom,” I growl, trying to ignore the hundreds of people sniggering at me. “You know you’re dead, right?”

She looks at me innocently. “How would it look if you killed your boyfriend’s cousin?”

I glare at her, going into full out pissed off mode with pursed lips. “I. Hate. You.”

“Aw, diddums,” Dom coos, batting her eyelashes at me. “You make my heart bleed.”

“I’ll make your head bleed in a minute.”

“There’s the Mollie I know and love,” Dom smirks and then leads me, still in my ladybird outfit, over to the Gryffindor table. “Look, James! She did it! Now pay up.”

James chortles at me as he flips a coin into Dom’s hand.

I hate them both.

“You were meant to be a lion,” I accuse, refusing to sit down with those twats.

“I couldn’t find a tail.”

How daft must I look as an annoyed ladybird? I don’t even want to think about it, that’s how terribly cringey I am.

Fred sits down beside me, looking pleased with himself. “Hey-er... Mollie, what are you wearing?”

And the day just suddenly got worse. That didn’t sound too good, did it? Well, I completely didn’t mean it like that. But I honestly doubt that I look somewhat presentable in a ladybird outfit.

I sigh, placing my head in my hands. “They said it was fancy dress.”

“Aw, bad luck,” Fred smiles at me, taking my hand and pulling me up. “Let’s go, then.”

I stare at him. “I’m getting changed first.”

“We don’t have time – we’ll miss the train.”

So that’s how I came to be on the Hogwart’s Express, on my very first proper date, dressed as a damn ladybird. Oh, how I abhorred them now.

And, once again; my life sucks.

What really reassured me was Freddie holding my hand the whole trip and murmuring how ‘great’ I looked ‘even in a ladybird outfit’ into my ear. See, him, I liked.

Who I didn’t like was Dom, who was meant to be my best friend and tricked me into being a ladybird on a date, and James, who came up with the bright idea and will not stop constantly bragging about his little interview as ‘Hottest Guy.’

I was actually happy when Hally smacked the back of his head. I think the whole compartment was.

“So...” I say, wanting to break the silence between Fred and I as we stroll along through Hogsmeade – no matter how comfortable it is. “Where do you want to go?”

“Well,” Freddie begins, a smirk on his face. “Seeing as you’ve never been to Hogsmeade before, you’re getting a personal tour with the Fred-Meister.”

“Oh, God,” I groan. “The Fred-Meister’s back?”

“The Fred-Meister never left.”

The ‘Fred-Meister’ was actually a pretty good tour guide. From slightly creepy but at the same time adorable Madame Puddifoot’s cafe to the shop selling the weirdest kind of quills, Freddie showed me them all. While he stood behind me with his warm arms wrapped around my waist as he tried not to have an eye removed by my antennae’s. The only thing that put a slight dampener on my ecstatic mood was an elderly lady with a crowd of giggling kids, all in costumes, around her who asked me if I would like to sign up for the Halloween treasure hunt. And it was uncanny how long it took for her to accept ‘no way in hell’ as an answer. In the end I still walked away with an information sheet that contained colouring pictures and stickers, much to Fred’s amusement. The smile slips off his face as we stop outside another shop.

 “Weasley’s Wizard Wheeze’s?” I say, grinning at an uncomfortable Freddie. “We have to go in.”

“No way,” he replies. “No freaking way.”

“Don’t you want me to meet your dad?” I pout, resting my head on his shoulder.


I ignore him, gripping his hand and dragging him to the shop, which seems crowded enough as it is without us in there. Fred protests the whole way, trying to wriggle free of my iron grip, as we near the counter where I presume Fred’s dad is behind.

I presumed right. “Alright, there, Freddie?” George Weasley says and Fred mumbles incoherently in response. “Who’s this, then?”

I smile at him. “I’m Mollie. We’re on a date.” Oh, how I love making Freddie uncomfortable.

“No way,” George sniggers. “How did Fred get a girl like you?”

“He used the usual overly cheesy pick-up lines,” I inform him and Fred snaps his head up.

“I did not.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Fred,” George says, ruffling his son’s hair and probably ruining the perfect shiny-ness of it. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Well, actually-”

“We’re leaving,” Fred interjects and, this time, he grabs my arm and leads us out of the shop, obviously trying to ignore my waving to his dad. The air is slightly chilly outside and I shiver as Freddie turns to me. “You are so dead when I meet your parents.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think you’re going to meet my parents?”

“I’m guessing they pick you up from King’s Cross?”

I pause for a moment, trying not to let my teeth chatter from the cold.
After all, I was in a ladybird outfit, and that did not include an Eskimo coat. “Damn.”

“You cold?”

 “A little.”

Freddie shrugs his (rather nice) coat off of his shoulders and passes it to me. “Put it on,” he commands when it becomes apparent that I’m not going to take it.

“But you’re going to get cold.”

“I have a hoody on underneath,” Freddie replies, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to get cold.”

“Let’s go inside somewhere, though,” I suggest and he nods in agreement, pointing to a cosy looking pub across the street where students seem to be flocking to. And I see why; it was a great little pub with fantastic butterbeer and jovial music playing in the background and, once we found a table, it was easy to flow into a conversation with Freddie. Well, he did most of the talking while I concentrated on the fact that his knee was touching mine under the table. I came incredibly shy then, which was weird seeing as I had no trouble blabbering on about useless things earlier, and all of a sudden my neck and face felt hot even though the temperature in the pub was fine.

“Mollie?” Freddie looks at me.

“Hm?” I squeak, trying with all my might not to gawk at his knee.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m-ahem,” I clear my throat, trying to stop my voice being a couple of octaves higher than it should be. “I’m just a little hot.”

“Well, there’s one place I haven’t showed you yet,” Freddie says and moves his knee away from mine. I take a deep breath. “The Shrieking Shack.”

To be honest, that didn’t sound like the most welcoming place. “Er... I’m good here.”

Fred laughs. “Come on, it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’ll love it, I promise.”

So of course I go. How could I, well, how could anybody really, say no to that face? It would have been like telling a five year old Santa doesn’t exist. We bump into James on the way out, a small brunette woman following him around with a quill and notepad who I assume is his interviewer.

“How’s the interview going so far?” Freddie asks them and the woman grins toothily at him.


“You’re Fred Weasley!” She declares, as if he didn’t know. Fred looks confused. “Would you two mind taking a photo with James? You know, ‘Cousin and co.’ No? Good.” I wince as the camera flashes and waves to us briefly before hauling James over to the corner table. Freddie and I exchange the same ‘poor guy’ look. I guess James won’t be bragging about too much on the train back. I wrap the coat tighter around me as we step outside.

Freddie is actually wrong about one thing. I don’t particularly like the Shrieking Shack, let alone love it.

“It’s meant to creak at night,” Freddie explains. “Haunted houses always give me the creeps.”

“Freddie,” I say, unimpressed. “It’s an old house.”

“It’s haunted.”

“I seriously doubt that.”


“It’s called being realistic,” I inform him as I turn my face up to his. “Somebody broke their promise.”

He doesn’t reply, instead choosing to smirk as he takes a step closer to me.

“Um...” I look up into his face, not at all unfazed by his closeness.

“I don’t break promises,” he murmurs before capturing my lips with his.

I love the Shrieking Shack.

A/N: I'm not too happy about that chapter but I thought I'd better get something out before the queue closes. I could always go back later and edit it :D
Thankyou SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed last chapter - over 30 reviews! WOW! But was this chapter okay or completely rubbish?

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