Chapter 26 : Love And Broomsticks
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Oh my gosh! I am so excited for you all to read this chapter, I put some extra funny jabs for you guys to make up for my lack of updates :P Hope you all enjoy! The first part of this chapter was actually one of the first scenes I had ever written, right when I chose the name for this fic. Now you all will know...why it's called Love & Broomsticks! Try to figure out why I chose those two elements to be part of the title, and let me know in your review!
I thought Muggle Studies was bad enough way before this school week got started, but I stand corrected. This can get worse. Much worse. Like, say, computer lessons being replaced with feelings, and thoughts of the mind, and how one is affected my emotions- and- and- Merlin… hormones! Could you imagine? No, wrong question - Could you imagine yourself talking openly about teenage hormonal instabilities in a classroom filled with people that care more about their broomsticks than their wands?
That sounded highly suggestive.
“Alright, class. I’ll be naming off partners I’ve assigned for this project when I come back… I’ll be just a moment,” Professor Franklin tells us, before swiftly leaving the classroom and excusing herself to talk to another teacher. But I bet she’s just using the loo.
“I’m kind of excited for this,” Jessica says to me, look wide awake and open for today’s lesson. I, on the completely different and lopsided other hand, look like I need an energy drink injection to my heart and ten pounds of coffee. I woke up today with the biggest headache, and I think I feel a cold coming on. Fabulous. Like it wasn’t bad enough that I was up all night doing extra credit homework for Biggins. That teacher is Satan on tiny legs. And to top it all off? I get reminded that today is a new lesson day in Muggle Studies. On the one day I feel like crap in a brown bag set on fire, my class and I have to start discussing our ‘feelings’ about what we ‘go through’. Hell no. I’ve seen the televisions shows. I refuse to be left sitting in an awkwardly shaped chair to speak about why I hate myself and my yetti-like hair.
“Oh, yeah,” I spit out sarcastically, “I can’t wait to explain my feelings about my redheaded fro to Professor Franklin.”
“You look fine,” she assures me.
She’s a big fat liar. Have you seen my late night comb-over hair? No? Then you can’t agree with Jessica. Because it looks horrible! Really. It looks like someone’s dragged me across the pavement backwards. And I say that melodramatically. I had no time to look decent or get myself ready this morning.
“No, I do not look fine. And no, I do not want to do this!” It’s too early in the morning for a Dr. Phil session.
My best friend throws me one of her looks. “Lily, class hasn’t even started yet and you’re already yelling negativity in my zen. I’m trying to harbor my positivity before class so please keep your negative thoughts out of my mental garden.”
I throw her my WTF face. “Uh, what?”
Jess pretends that she hasn’t just said something completely unlike her. She looks around nervously before turning to me. “What?” she asks nonchalantly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
Okay, number one: Jessica is chipper than I am today. Which never happens. Number two, she took extra time to make herself look good this morning, which makes me feel like I’m stuck in the Beauty and the Beast. Number three, she’s talking about peace and tranquility.
“What the hell is a zen?” I blurt out.
She sighs and bites her thumbnail.
“And why are you so happy!?”
I have a inkling about why she’d be doing this, but not so early into the day. It’s first period. She usually doesn’t wake up until second period. Frank honestly can’t be making her go that crazy she has to make sure she’s model perfect all the time for their arguments. Besides, Frank Longbottom isn’t in this class.
“I’m just trying to stay positive and awake,” she says eagerly.
My left eyebrow goes up as I examine her. “Right.”
“Besides, I think it’s a good thing to try and make the most our of your day. I mean there’s always going to be someone out there to ruin it for you,” I cough -Frank reference- and cough again, “but I think being happy is important. And I really want to try and be a bit more positive in my life. Hell, I even started doing yoga.”
I have nothing to say. I just bite the inside of my cheek and gaze at her.
“It’s not a bad thing to try, anyways. I’m tired of being pissed off all the time. Mainly it was with my issues with Jeff, but I’m okay with that now. I let him go and I am stress free… for the most part. And I’m actually excited for this class! Can you believe it? Me- excited, for Muggle Studies? You know, I always liked Psychology…”
My mind goes off on its own and before I know it I start to see dancing sheep and leaping coyotes. Don’t judge me, I’m suffering from lack of sleep.
“Okay, students,” Professor Franklin says upon her arrival, “Pick up your quills and notepads.” She lifts off the sheet of names from her desk. “We are about to begin our first lesson of the day with your new partners.”
“Riley and Stevens, Marchin and Blimgt-”
“Uh, the ‘G’ is silent,” Huvian Blimgt pipes up.
She looks annoyed and continues. “Right… Finelly and Clinsky, Black and Lupin…”
A high five is distributed in the middle of the classroom behind me. Two guess who they are.
“- Margham and Pettigrew, Potter and Evans, Micah and Oakland…”
Oh, fuck my life sideways!
After Professor Franklin is done calling out all the names from her list, everyone begins to move.
“Lily,” Jessica warns me, “Get up.”
I curled my hands around the desk. “NO.”
I’m not talking about Psychology with James Potter. I could laugh out loud like a maniac right now. How ironic could this be? This is Dumbledore’s sick joke, isn’t it? Having a conference with the teachers and telling them to ruin me. I swear it’s happening.
Sirius and Remus somehow end up sitting in the two desks behind me.
“Hello there, mate!” Sirius Black greets, plopping down in his seat.
My elbows lock.
“I’m not moving, Jess.”
“This is unhealthy, even for you-”
“Oh, where, oh, where, could my partner be?” The devil cites before stalking over.
I bite my lip. I give my best friend my pity glance: Save me from this nightmare, my facial features scream out.
Jess narrows her eyes at James in response. She may be in a positive state of mind, but I sure as hell know she‘s got my back when it comes to eye-narrowing. Or ass kicking. “Don’t act stupid, alright? She’s not in the mood today. She hasn’t had enough coffee to handle you yet. If I hear anything from across the room, I’ll be kicking you straight in the arse,” she advises him before walking all the way across the room to meet with her partner.
James gives me a wicked smile and winks. “Well. That was a welcomed greeting.” He turns his chair around and immediately starts chatting with his friends. Meanwhile, our Professor is trying to quiet everyone down to explain the directions for today’s activity. An activity I’m going to have to do with James Potter.
Stick a fork in my eye.
“Settle down, everyone. Settle down.”
James is still hammering away, talking about some film he saw.
I do the rational thing and pinch his thigh. Hard.
“Ah!” he squeals, rubbing the spot. He’s looking caught off guard and offended.
“Yes?” I ask with spite.
“No you may not!” He exclaims, not giving me permission to pinch him again.
“Oh, I may,” I tell him with a twitch in my eye. And it must look nice with my Chewbacca hair I have going on. A good over all mental view of my evil scorning-ness. Yep.
Professor Franklin coughs loudly to get everyone’s attention.
“Now, as you all may know, we will be moving on to psychology for our next Muggle Studies lesson. This month, we will be discussing emotions and how the mind truly works. You will be working with your partner for the most of this month’s lesson, so make sure you both are comfortable with working with each other. If there is a problem with the partner I have assigned you, please write me a note and stick it in my mailbox.”
Will twelve notes suffice?
“I am not really sure how many of you have truly studied the art Psychology can truly be- there are many ways, I assure you, to study the works of the brain. But, we will be doing things a bit differently then some of you may think. Instead of the tradition Muggle texts on teaching, we will be working more on magical emotions caused by wizards and witches alike. More hands-on, in sense,” she informs us, walking towards her chalk board. She waves her wand and notes appear.
“This is your assignment for this week, due on Friday. I decided to let you know ahead of time so you and your partner could discuss and prepare on how to complete the parts of this assignment. Today we will start out with just an introduction to perception, critical thinking, and the like. But before we delve into the matters that pertain to your assignment above, we will do a little exercise.”
Running out of this damn classroom is the only kind of exercise that’s coming to my mind right about now.
“Our knowledge of the mind will not just stop and how we see and perceive things, but also how we feel things as a whole, as a unit. A lot of individualism, you could say, will be broken apart and spread around for us to analyze. This exercise, for instance, will be very opinionated, but its all for the good of knowledge. It will help us learn that not everyone thinks the same as us. There is no right or wrong answer.”
“I like the sound of that,” James sniggers.
I hiss, my teeth barred out. He jolts and then tries to play it off as an electric shock.
“We will definitely be doing a lot of these throughout the next couple of weeks, but your results will be graded. For today’s exercise, it will be nothing but practice…except, I will be collecting your data after class, so make it good and spend all your time in a productive manner. Without opening your books, turn to your partners.”
It’s like an old western gun dual soundtrack has started playing. James looks at me, and I look at him. He raises his eyebrow, and I raise mine. He blows me a kiss, and I give him my middle finger.
“Make sure to turn your chairs around fully so you are facing each other. Okay, now on a piece of paper, write your answer to the question I’m going to ask you. The rules are, you cannot speak to your partners, and you cannot take your eyes off of each other. No wandering eyes and no looking around the room. This is a thinking drill to see if you can see your own reasoning while trying not to think about the person in front of you.”
“Ready to stare and get lost into my dreamy eyes, Evans?”
“Oh, were those your eyes? I thought they were gaping black holes of death residing in the middle of your face,” I say in monotone.
Remus and Sirius laugh out loud and Professor Franklin tells them to hush.
“As I was saying, no peaking around the classroom and do not look at what you write. Are we all ready for the question?”
The whole class says yes in unison.
Professor Franklin reads off her clipboard and asks us, “What makes the world go ‘round?”
Meep? What kind of question is that?
“You are allowed to discuss this topic with your partners, but you may not tell them what you are writing down.,” our professor finishes off, before the classroom erupts into chatter.
“Well, this is going to be pretty easy,” my partner says cockily.
I narrow my eyes. “How so?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
I push him to continue.
“Quidditch!” he says.
I bite back a laugh. “Quidditch?”
“Hah, I don’t think so. I highly doubt Quidditch makes the world go ‘round.”
“Oh, really,” he wheedles sarcastically.
“Really,” I say again.
“And why the hell not?”
I roll my eyes. “Because, James I-am-a-sports-bigot Potter, the world itself doesn’t revolve around sports. Nor does it depend on that particular sport to keep going around and around again. Obviously she means something on an intellectual level.”
“Whatever,” he scoffs.
“Whatever,” I mimic like a gorilla.
“Really cute,” he comments.
We end up staring at each other boringly while everyone else is working. This goes on for about three full minutes. And then we resort to listening to other people’s conversations. Which turns out to be a bad idea, because we’re in the front of the classroom. And the other desks are placed farther away. They’re kind of scattered in to rows of two, but we’re just pushed up more. And what does that lead to?
“Oh, Remus, your eyes are so dreamy.”
It leads to THIS.
In our peripheral vision, we can basically see Remus and Sirius making flirty kissy sounds, pretending to be schoolgirls. What pricks. Even though we can’t turn our heads or look around, the effect is still the same. Although I’d love to see this full on for myself.
“Oh, Sirius, what a wonderful complexion you have,” Remus cries out in a girly voice.
Sirius pretends to bat his eyelashes. “Oh, but you are so much prettier.”
“OHHHHHHHH, you are soooooo sweet!”
I take offense to this. And not just the dialogue. All of it. Firstly girls do not talk like that. Ever. And second, we don’t talk to other girls about how pretty they are. If Remus and Sirius are both girls, then the whole ‘making fun of girls flirting with guys thing’ doesn’t work.
See? I have rational thinking skills.
“I knew it,” James feigns surprise. “All those late night tutoring sessions…they were all cover ups. I knew it all along, I did.”
“How could you not? He’s my type,” Sirius jokes.
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? You usually go for guys two inches shorter than you.”
“What can I say? I fell for his…wolfish manly features,” Sirius smirks. Now he’s just carrying it out too far.
Remus Lupin’s faces instantly stiffens. Is it just me, or is he playfully glowering at Sirius?
“I mean, he practically animal pounced on me-”
Remus punches him in the arm, making Sirius respond with, “GAH!”
James bursts into laughter. I pinch his thigh again.
“Focus!” I snap. “We have to get this done. Never mind them.”
“Ugh, fine. You think of something.”
“Me? Why me?” I spit out desperately. “I can’t do all the work. And besides, you have to write your own answer. You idiot, if you listened to Professor Franklin-”
“Wah-Wah, Wah-Wah...WAHHHHH.” He makes little figure puppets with his hands and insinuates to me that I talk to much and that I am boring him to tears.
“Oh,” I growl. “Do not get me started.”
“But I love rallying you up,” he says happily. I ignore him and focus on our assignment.
I sigh and calm myself down. “Okay, so we need to discuss what we think about the question and talk about what we personally think contributes to the world going ‘round. We can’t see our answers, so we’re going to have to talk about it without giving out too much information.”
“What is it going to do? Is she going to tell us if we are doing it correctly? Is there a certain way to do this - are you sure you are following everything right?”
I seethe. “Yes, you ignorant little panda. I am following everything perfectly. Now talk.” Before I hit you in the nads and turn you into a eunuch.
“I told you. I think Quidditch makes the world go ‘round,” he states simply.
“For heaven’s sake, come on.”
“Get off my back! I like Quidditch, and I’m biased. So be it. In my world, Quidditch and the world revolve around each other. Or me, rather.”
At least it sounds like him.
“But that’s so shallow! She’s looking for meaningful answers-”
“And how do you now? What if the purpose of this whole exercise is to find out what’s really important to a person, and to find out what they personally think controls their life?”
I open my mouth a crack to respond, but I’m stumped.
Oh my poop-y pants. What if he’s right?
“What if the whole point of the question is to see how many people have something in common? Say, my world revolves around Quidditch, and your world revolves around… Oh, I don’t know…ruining lives- what would that say-”
“I’m sorry, did I say something offensive?”
“I do not ruin lives!” I inform him. “And even if you are right about the exercise, we can’t be sure. It’s better to show a more intellectual side. Something deeper behind your first thought. Like tacos, for instance. Sirius Black’s world practically revolves around tacos. Maybe that means he wants to learn Spanish, or he likes Mexican food, or he’s having an affair with a Spanish woman-”
“I wish…” Sirius mumbles.
“Stay out of this,” I squeak.
“Me too,” Remus says in a melancholy voice.
“Anyway,” I interrupt. “What I’m trying to say is that there has to be a motive behind what we think.”
James looks down in his lap for a split second and before I can yell at him about leaving my eye contact, he looks up at me with innocent eyes. “What about you?” He asks quietly.
I’m not ready for his softness, so I just stand there with my mouth agape, ready to speak, with my eyebrows raised and chest puffed with air. I exhale and swallow loudly. I blink a few more times.
“What do you mean?
“What makes your world go ‘round?”
Why am I sweating?
“Uh, I’m… not sure,” I make out after a while.
I furrow my eyebrows in frustration and try to think. “I guess…I guess that family doesn’t really make the world go ‘round. Maybe other people’s families- well, uh, I don’t know. Happiness, maybe? Being with people that make you feel great.”
He nods his head in agreement. I think?
“Okay,” I murmur.
That’s what it is.
That’s what makes the world go ‘round.
“Hey, James, do you think saying ‘a cucumber makes the world go ‘round’ signifies that men dominate existence in a sick, twisted, and completely sexual way?”
“I like cucumbers though! You make it sound perverted,” Remus whines.
Sirius howls in laughter and holds his head in his hands. His shoulders shake as he stutters, “You- you, you like cucumbers…”
I can feel the heat of Remus Lupin’s cheeks from all the way over here. I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s flushed and embarrassed.
“You’re a bastard, Padfoot.”
Yes, he really did just laugh like that.
“You ruddy little pervert.”
“Whatever,” Sirius laughs, “you like cucumbers.”
“Boys,” I intervene. “Enough with the sexual innuendos.”
“Lily likes cucumbers,” James bursts into laughter. And so do his friends.
My eyes bug out of my head. OH MY GOD!
“You ignoramus!” I burst. “I can speak for myself! And as for my vegetable preferences…they don’t involve you.”
“What she means to say, Prongs, is that it doesn’t involved your cucumber,” Sirius corrects. Remus barks out laughter and Professor Franklin comes stalking over.
Sweet biscuits! My mouth is just hanging open in shock right now! I cannot believe he just said that. James is red in the face and I look absolutely horrified. Shoot me now.
“Are you two done with the exercise?” she says almost snidely at Sirius and Remus.
Yes, get me the hell out of here!
“Yes, ma’am,” Sirius smiles. Charming, I’m sure.
She gives him a tightlipped smile before walking off to see how the other students across the room are doing.
“Jeez, you accidentally explode someone’s computer ONE TIME and all of a sudden they have a reason to hate you. Sheesh.”
“Except it wasn’t just one computer,” I state, even though no one is listening to me.
“She has a nice bum, though,” he comments, squinting to look at her. There are so many things wrong with this boy. He just said Professor Franklin had a nice bum, and he also broke the eye contact rule. It shouldn’t matter if he’s done, this is an exercise. Is he scholarly-direction following challenged? He should get a medal for being the randomest and most impromptu person in the wizarding world.
“If it weren’t for Emma, I’d kick you in the mouth. Just saying.”
A siren starts ringing loudly in the classroom. I groan and grip my ears. Professor Franklin looks stricken for a moment and takes her wand out. She performs a silencing charm as quickly as she can.
“Er, sorry. A tad too loud?” she asks the class.
“Just a bit,” I hear Jessica say across the classroom, sounding utterly pissed and disgruntled. So much for inner zen.
“That was the timer. Which means time is up. So please, everyone, write down your answer on your parchment without looking at your partner’s answer.”
“Don’t write Quidditch,” I warn him.
He just sticks his tongue out like a child and scribbles down on our parchment.
“Now before I go about collecting your answers, take a look for yourselves at what your partners have written,” she says, giving us permission to look. James and I switch papers.
I almost rip his in half. “BROOMSTICKS!?”
He shrugs, giving me a careless look. “It was the closest thing to Quidditch I could think of.”
I’ve been partnered with someone who knows his wood preferences better than his times tables.
“James, you dolt! Do you have any sensibility at all?”
“Shut’cho mouth! Broomsticks is a very valid answer to what was asked. So stop hating.”
“I’m not hating.”
He raises his eyebrow skeptically. “Sure. Just because my answer happens to be the best-”
“Don’t kid yourself for a second-”
“Besides, what did you write down that was so great?” He asks me, sticking his nose in the air. He takes my note and reads it.
“LOVE!?” James blurts out in an insulting manner.
I’m beginning to glare at him more and more as the day goes on.
“Yes,” I respond venomously. “Is there a problem with that?”
“You think love makes the world go ‘round?”
“Yes,” I grit my teeth.
“Hah! Typical woman,” he scoffs. I snap my paper back.
“Love does make the world go round, you nincompoop. With out love people can not be….well, you know…”
“Conceived,” Sirius finishes off.
I turn my head to look at him. He waves his hand off, telling me to continue.
“Yes, that. And if there is none of that, then there are no people. And without people, there is no human race. Then we’d all have to start over again from scratch.”
“It all started with that tiny little organism, swimming all by its lonesome self, in that shallow sea…” Remus props his chin up with his hand. He looks off and sighs. “The little engine that could,” he reminisces.
“Right,” I speak in plainly. “Because you were there.”
Before Remus can give me his rebuttal, Professor Franklin collects our work and gives us the rest of the period off. I’m left staring out the hazy window in silence. I lay my head on the desk and look outside. It’s starting to rain, and I get to see the first drops of water before anyone else. Everybody in class is either chatting or doing extra course work. Jessica’s across the room making small talk with her Muggle Studies partner and James, Sirius, and Remus are babbling away as if the world depends it. Seriously, they see each other all the freaking time and they don’t get bored with each other at all.
My answer was right.
My answer was true.
Love. That’s all it takes to change this world.
Imagine, all the loss in the world and all the unfaithfulness going on, and there are still people that hope for a better tomorrow - in any sense. How can someone be happy without love? Love and happiness are the same thing, just in different forms. Those people, the ones that have nothing but believe in everything… I believe that they make the world go ‘round. If they didn’t have that happiness, that love, they’d be nothing. And there would be nothing. Nothing at all, to live for. I hate to ask the question, but I must ask myself: Am I happy?
I can’t say yes, and I can’t say no. My eyes get blurry.
I’m going back to that deep place in my mind again. Dear Merlin, help me. I don’t want to think about all the thing I’ve lost. The only good thing I have ever gained in my life was Jessica. And damn it, she’s enough for me. My family may be dysfunctional, my sister might hate me, my father might ignore me, and I maybe lost the bestest friend I ever had growing up and he’s sitting right next to me, but I’m going to try and hold my head up.
I remember the days when love was enough. I wish it was still like that, in a way.
It starts to rain hard, and the drops hit the window with a tough tapping sound and I just concentrate on it. It’s funny how the universe sometimes knows what your thinking, and it does things - maybe it’s some sort of higher power we are too ignorant to understand - but it does things, to show you its there. It shows you that it’s there for you. It cares. And for some reason, I feel like the world is crying with me right now.
The cozy comforts of the couch are my niche for the rest of the evening. I’ve begun a new muggle novel and I’m already on page one hundred. Most of the Seventh Years are in the common room, as there is a meeting for students in First Year to Fourth Year in the Great Hall. How they plan to fit that many people and keep them quiet for this long of a meeting is out of my brain capacity. They’re practically toddlers, you can’t even get them to stand still in class. I wonder what they’re talking about.
“What if they’re having the birds and the bees talk?” I ask Jessica, who’s laying next to me on the couch, her feet in my lap, flipping through the television with the remote.
“Hah! I’d love to hear McGonagall talk about that.”
“I highly doubt they’d announce that kind of earth shattering information in a big meeting, let alone including four different student bodies to participate in the sex talk,” I hear Frank pipe up from the secluded corner of the room. He’s facing the window in a recliner chair. I’m pretty sure he rearranged the furniture that way, because that’s where the chess set used to be.
Jessica gets snappy. “I didn’t asked you.”
“I didn’t say you did. Lily was the one that asked that question. Nimrod.”
Her ears goes pink in response, and she punches the buttons of the remote vigorously.
“Ladies,” I begin. “Retract the claws, please.”
“More like retract your penis,” she mumbles quietly.
“JESSICA!” What has gotten into her?!
“I hear that,” Frank mentions from the window.
“What?” she asks me innocently, like she didn’t just viciously insult my brother from another mother.
I ignore her insignificant and rhetorical question with a another question. “What happened to being peaceful?”
“Oh, I’m still peaceful. I consider not being violent a peaceful quality. I didn’t burse into fits of violence. I could have thrown this remote at the back of his head, see, and I didn’t. Thus…I am peaceful.”
“Peace within other people starts with peace within yourself,” I advise. “And when you are fully peaceful with yourself, the easier it is to deal with other people. Hate to break it to you, but you aren’t dealing with other people quite so peacefully.”
Jessica directs her attention back on the TV. “Well peace within yourself is hard to accomplish when a shithead prick is in your presence.”
She lands on a channel that is talking about a koala’s natural habitat.
“And the mother koala viciously attacks…”
“I don’t think this program is suitable for you at the moment.”
“Rubbish,” she refutes.
“Listen, I just had a very hair-tearing predicament to deal with in Muggle Studies today involving love and broomsticks. The last thing I need to complete my night is you gaining tips on how to seize your enemy by some Queen Koala.”
“I actually don’t think they have just one monarch in this specific animal kingdom. Or is it a pyramid? I think they have some kind of dominance to specific females but I don’t think they have leaders of the pack. Or group? What are koalas labeled under?”
“A group?” I ask off topic. “Do they have koala groups?”
“I don’t know, they seem really vicious. Maybe it’s a herd? Like a herd of sheep?”
“A herd of koalas,” I say flatly.
“Yeah, or like a social system of koalas.”
“And when it feels threatened, the head koala lunges forth to its enemy…”
“Aha! So there is a some sort of leader,” Jess points to the TV.
“Who said there was just one? Maybe there are two monarchs. Or maybe, it’s an oligarchy and there are a small group of koalas that lead this supposed herd.”
“Maybe it’s like a mafia.”
“Maybe it’s- Er… What?”
“A mafia,” she informs me. “A mafia of koalas. See that one?” She points to the fattest koala known to man. It’s fatter then all the other ones, in fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a grizzly bear by just looking at its body size.
“That animal is seriously obese,” I tell myself.
“That’s the Don Koala.”
Frank bursts into such a fit of laughter from across the room that his chair has skidded back two feet.
“The big fat one is the Don. The Don Koala!”
Oh my God. Do you hear this? The Don of the koala mafia. I can’t begin to process how we got to this point.
“The Don Koala? Jess-”
“He’s the Godfather of all koalas,” she says wondrously, her eyes glued to the TV screen.
I try to put some sense into my best friend, but before doing so, I am interrupted by a pair of loudly clacking feet coming down the stairs.
“Hey, guys, have you seen my periwinkle socks?” Peter asks, looking disheveled.
“Peter, what happen?” The boy looks like he’s been fending off a saber tooth tiger. Oh, wait. I didn’t mean that.
Correction: The boy looks like he’s been fending off the Don Koala.
“I tried looking for my favorite pair of periwinkle socks in the boys’ dormitory. My first instinct was to look under Padfoot’s bed, since his bed always has random trinkets and lost laundry and shit like that under it….” He takes a seat on another plushy chair near the sofa and exhales.
“Yeah?” I turn my attention to him now, while my supposed sixteen year old best friend is being captivated by a herd of koalas that have ties to organized crime.
“Well, I kind of ran into his dead pygmy puff.”
“Holy Guacamole!” My face is now contorted in disbelieve and disgust.
“Yeah, it’s quite vicious.”
“Fuck, I don’t know what’s more disgusting, the fact that Sirius had a pygmy puff, or the fact that he had a dead one…under his bloody bed! That’s a God damn health hazard! The slob-” I stop, because I’m too confused to continue. I crinkle my eyebrows at Peter.
“…What did you just say?”
“The thing is as dangerous as a piranha!” he exclaims. “Look at my clothes!” He gestures to his tattered up sleeves and torn collar.
“Do you mean to tell me, that Sirius Black’s dead pygmy puff is no longer dead? Or that his pygmy puff never died to begin with?” I ask dangerously.
“Once the leader of the koala tribe is pestered, it’s anger comes out like a raging bull against its attacker. It is practically unstoppable once it is angered…”
“Oh, no,” Peter guffaws, “it definitely died last year.”
I almost drop the book in my hands.
“We see the koala as it fights off it’s rival primate for the big bamboo stick…”
“So you’re saying that there’s a pygmy puff that has joined the legion of the undead under Sirius’s four-poster?”
“Er, yes?” he scratches his already tousled hair.
“Sweet!” Frank calls out to us, rising up from his place near the window, making his way towards us. “A zombie pygmy puff!”
“This is dangerous. And beyond normal,” I tell him, my voice raising intervals. There’s a pygmy demon in the boys’ common room! What if it gets loose?
“I know! The thing almost killed me. It had fangs,” he shudders.
“Even sweeter, a vampire pygmy puff!” Frank chuckles, taking the remote from Jessica.
“HEY!” she yells. I try to turn my eyes back on Peter before a full on fight blows out between Frank and Jess. I’ve seen this happen a million times, I can deal with not seeing this one. Fighting is their way of flirting.
“You have to report this!”
“I actually just want my periwinkle socks…so…”
“Awe, no, don’t yell at me-”
“You are going to report this devilish creature living under Sirius’s bed this instant! Before it escapes and starts killing students!”
“Hey, it’s fine, okay? Trust me. As long as it keeps eating Padfoot’s old boxer shorts, she should be fine.”
I’m trying really hard not to throw up. “That’s gross!” I practically shout at him. “And unhygienic.”
“It’s not MY pygmy puff,” he reminds me.
“What does this creature look like?” I ask with curiosity.
“It used to be a pinkish purple color, but now it’s fur is completely black and it had red beady eyes.”
My eyes almost roll to the back of my head.
“Sweet marbles,” I squeak. “There’s a dead magenta pygmy puff in your dormitory.”
“It’s black now,” he corrects.
The common room door opens and Remus comes walking in with his Potions text book in his hands.
“Oi, Pete, you look a wreck mate, what happened?”
“Well I was looking for my periwinkle socks and-”
I get up and point to Peter. “He almost died because of a vengeance seeking vamp-pygmy!”
“A vamp-pig-me?” Remus asks in confusion.
I stomp my foot. Freaking jerk. “No! A vampire pygmy puff! Under your friend’s bed!”
“Oh,” Remus acknowledges, “that one…“ he loosens his tie and takes a seat where Jessica was just sitting.
Because now Frank and her are wrestling for the remote. She just swiftly kicked him in the nuts. And he is momentarily clutching his sad crotch. What’s hilarious about this is that no one is paying attention to the two, because every one is so used to them by now they just don’t give a koala’s ass.
“That one?” I question alarmingly. “What do you mean ‘that one’, Remus? It’s a fanged beast!”
“Don’t worry, it’s dead. I made sure last year. It’s probably just Peter’s imagination.”
Peter gives Remus and look that reads ‘yeah, that’s it, because I enjoy looking like someone’s run me over with a tractor so I can lie about it and blame it on a pygmy puff’.
“I’m not making this up, Moony.”
Remus eyes up his friend. “Seriously, mate?”
“Yeah, it bit apart my shirt,” he says sadly, lifting his torn up sleeves.
“Wow, um.. I thought we killed that thing for sure. What were you looking for again?”
“My periwinkle socks.”
“Oh, I think I saw them down here last night.” Did I just see Remus Lupin’s eyes shift?
“Really!?” Peter slides out of his chair and dives under the coffee table.
I turn to Remus. “Must you?” I ask impossibly.
“Yes,” he says plainly.
“Get him off the ground.”
“Nope,” he answers.
“His socks aren’t down here, are they?”
“You’re going to hell for this, aren’t you?”
The portrait hole opens again followed by Sirius Black. Finally!
“You! Because of you and your lamentable lack of hygiene, your pygmy puff, which is back from the dead by the way, has just formerly attacked your best friend, who just so happens to be very gullible.”
Sirius blinks and sits down in the chair Peter was just occupying before Remus decided to be a jackass.
“Who’s she talking about, Moony?”
“Wormtail,” Remus informs him, not looking up from his book.
“Peter? Yeah, the git’s really gullible.”
“He’s in the same room, you know,” I say snidely.
Sirius pokes Peter lightly with his foot.
“Oomph,” is all we hear from Peter, who is now searching under the carpet for his socks. Sirius’s little kick sent Peter to the ground, no longer on all fours, but on all front.
“Oops, sorry, mate,” Sirius calls down.
Peter raises his hand up to signal it’s okay.
“I don’t know where to begin! Do I start with: What is this fascination he has with his periwinkle socks? Or, Why the hell do you have a dead pygmy puff under your bed?”
Sirius sighs and rolls his pupils to the heavens. He reclines back and looks at me. “Oh, young grasshopper. You know nothing.”
“Obviously,” I state. “Get rid of that creature! I’ll be damned if I find some black demonic pygmy puff staring at me while I sleep. If that thing escapes-”
“It won’t,” he assures.
Pfft. “But if it does-”
I start grinding my teeth together. Cut me off one more time. A gauge in the eyes, that’s all it’ll take.
“As long as I keep feeding it my dirty undies, it should be okay for at least another three months. After that, we’ll take care of it. And I promise you’ll be the first one I call, alright?”
I throw him a fake smile. “Can’t wait,” I say, dripping with sarcasm. Just ONE eye gauge…
What a day. Not only did I discover about his demonic animal/pet living under his bed (or should I say residing in? Because it’s dead, so it’s not exactly ‘living’ anywhere), but I have also discovered that Sirius had apparently known about this for a while now. How disturbing. Imagine if someone told you a dead rat was under your bed, or worse, a vampire rat! Imagine leaving it there for months, giving it your dirty underwear to eat?
This is me throwing up.
Will those two ever quit it?
“What are they doing, making out?” Sirius asks mockingly to no one in particular.
Jessica stops what she’s doing, kicks Frank off of her, and throws the fat remote dead on point blank. It hits Sirius Black square in the forehead.
“SON OF A BATCH OF COOKIES!” He bellows, gripping his nose in pain.
I look over at Jess. “That was very koala of you,” I say, shocked at what’s just happen in the course of five seconds. She smiles at me, but a venomous glare is still in her eyes.
“You’re a big fat pirate hooker!”
“Oh, really?” I hear Frank mumble, gripping his stomach in pain from Jessica’s blow. He’s still on the floor, almost crippled. And he’s still going to stick up for her, isn’t he?
“What are you going to do, slap her in public?” He quotes to Sirius, making a reference to what Ron Burgundy's character said in Anchorman. I’m the only person in the room who has seen this muggle film, so I burse out laughing and everyone gives me weird looks. Except Frank. He just winks and me a gives me a knowing expression.
Sirius is panting while whipping out his pocket mirror.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Jessica scoffs, looking at Sirius in a pathetic manner. “You have a pocket-sized mirror?”
“You just threw a remote the size of a small child at my face! I could sue!”
“Please do,” Jess says in a bitchy tone. She crosses her arms and picks herself up from the ground.
“You already punch me in the fucking face, you ignorant broad. Do you know what another punch could do to my remarkable face?”
“Children, settle down,” is all that comes out of Remus as he flips a page behind his hardcover text book. He’s doing homework. How can he do his homework when this kind of havoc is going on? I wish I had his stamina.
Sirius examines his bone structure in the mirror, holding it up and inspecting his cheek bones and nose for any other possible injuries. “Only you would injure a handicapped man!” He accuses Jessica.
“Oh, please, you’re not handicapped.”
“I’m still recovering! I should boil you in a large vat of lava.”
“Is that a threat?” Jessica walks closer, Sirius instantly backs up out of reflex. But he snaps back and raises his mirror if not higher than normal. He sticks his nose in the air.
“I don’t need to threaten people. My looks are revenge enough.”
Right. Because everyone wishes they were as beautiful as you, I forgot.
“I don’t know what Emma sees in you,” Jessica informs us, voicing her biased opinion.
“Well I know one of them,” he replies with arrogance.
“You can cross cockiness off the list,” I interfere.
“I hope you don’t mean your ugly looks.”
“What ugly looks? I’m one hundred percent luscious.”
I could laugh…if this wasn’t really happening.
“It’s everywhere,” he motions his hands around his face.
“What are we talking about?” Peter pops up out of the carpet, after being MIA for quite some time.
“Padfoot’s ugliness,” Remus tells him.
“Oh.” Peter tries to get a clue in on what this is, but he has no idea.
“I am not ugly! Where is this ugliness you speak of? Or better yet, the evidence of my ugliness?” Sirius continues.
“Dude, you’re holding it in your hands. It’s evidence enough.”
“Look at your hand,” I clue Sirius in. He is so daft.
He holds up his mirror. “This?”
“Yeah,” she snaps. “The ugliness is right there. Look in the mirror,” she responds, with a little bit of edge.
Sirius smirks. “I have looked in the mirror, and do you know what I saw?” But he doesn’t give her time to answer. “Too much sexiness in one face.”
He’s grinning like an idiot. Jess is rolling her eyes. Remus chuckles secretly and gets back to his Potions homework. Frank just inhales disappointedly and picks up the remote that’s still on the ground. Peter looks lost since he only heard half of the conversation, all because he was looking for his periwinkle socks.
Please don’t let me like these guys.
Author's Note: Thoughts? And sorry about any grammatical errors, I barely edited this before I submitted it in the queue - I wanted to update as fast as possible for you guys! I personally enjoyed the bit with Jessica giving Sirius head trauma :D If you have any questions or comments about this fic, either leave it somewhere in your review or go over to my MTA in the forums :] I love answering questions about this fic.
Oh, and one more thing - alot of people have been asking me how my updating process usually goes, and I'm not sure if any of you have either not been on my author's page or not, but I have a blog, and on that blog I keep people up to date about my updates and how my stories are coming along. So if you want to follow me during my updating process, just take a small visit at my blog once and a while =] Thanks!
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