Chapter 1 : Letters
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*A/N: This chapter has been edited from it's original version*
Summer wasn't exactly my favorite part of the year. In fact, the only part I like about it is the gorgeous weather. There's really nothing else to like because I don't get to see any of my friends, and I have to endure Petunia.
Petunia is my sister; my too-skinny, rude, and horse-faced sister. She and I are completely different. She's clean and elegant, and I'm, well, not. She is nosy and gossips and I stick my nose in my own business only. She's a muggle, and I'm a witch. She'll never admit that that's the reason behind her distaste for me, but I know it is.
The sun streamed into my room through the open window. There was only a week and a couple of days left until school started again. I was preparing for my seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I had already received my letter weeks ago (in it, a shiny Head Girl badge). I was itching to return. I got out of bed and scratched off today from the calendar. Tomorrow read: Diagon alley.
My stomach growled. Time for breakfast. I walked downstairs careful to avoid my sister, but it was impossible because she was sitting in our yellow kitchen at the table eating a salad. I tried my best to keep my eyes from rolling. Tried being the keyword in that setence.
"Really, Tuney?" I inquired, "Who eats salad for breakfast?"
"It's lunch you dimwit," She replied immediately, "You've just slept in."
I glanced at the clock. It was nearly one o'clock. Oh well, might as well just have some breakfast food anyways to tick Petunia off. I opened the pantry and pulled out some cereal and then went to the fridge and grabbed the last of the chocolate milk. Petunia's eyes glared at my choice of food: calaries in a bowl.
"I've got another date with Vernon today," Tuney told me smugly. She likes to brag that she has a boyfriend and I don't. I think it makes her feel like it makes up for the fact that she's not magical like I am. Although, I couldn't care less because her boyfriend is a fat whale. "You'll be staying home, I presume?"
"You presume right, Petunia." I drawled, bored with this conversation.
"Not suprising," She stated, "Who would want to go out with you? You are so plain and boring . . ." I snorted. She had actually just described herself.
"Plenty of people would like to go out with me," I retorted, "They just happen to live very far away."
I opened my mouth but she cut me off, "I'm not talking about having a girl's night out here, I mean boys. No one would date you, and you know it.” I closed my mouth. I only knew of one boy who would date me, and I did not want to bring him up in a conversation with my sister, although if she persisted, I may force myself to do it just to shut her up.
“I know of some guys that would date me,” I told her, fully annoyed.
I kept my mouth closed in order to avoid any awkward situations. I don’t have to prove anything to Petunia.
Well I didn't have to, that is, until she screeched “Freak!” at me.
Oh, that was it.
I looked up at the cause of her outburst. An owl had flown in through the kitchen window and dropped a letter in front of me. It then proceeded to fly straight into my sister, flappings it's wings as if to annoy her. I puzzled over that for a moment. That's strange. Now don't get me wrong, I love seeing Petunia getting attacked by random owls, it's just I've never seen an owl act like such a—a Marauder.
I glared at the envelope, suddenly knowing exactly who sent it to me—the only person in the world that would train his owl to torment the people it sends letters to.
Sorry if I’m bothering you by this but I’ve been going crazy not getting to talk to you. Mary told me you were going to Diagon Alley tomorrow, so, being me, I planned my trip for tomorrow as well. Be prepared to see me there because I intend on talking to you. Don’t try to avoid me, I am a Marauder after all. You don’t have to reply if you don’t want to, but the invitation is always there.
Have a good rest of the summer and see you soon,
“Who is that from?” Tuney asked, reading over my shoulder. I folded it quickly so she couldn’t see it. I turned to her and said the first thing that popped into my head.
“My . . . uhh, boyfriend.”
My boyfriend? The sentence kept echoing in my mind. What have I gotten myself into?
“What’s his name?” She asked suspiciously.
James Potter: The bane of my existence. I really could not stand him. Not only did he like to push my buttons, but his love for himself makes me want to vomit. He thinks that just because he’s some Quidditch star that everyone loves him. He always runs his hand through his black hair to make it look like he just stepped off his broom, to remind everyone that he's the best chaser in the school.
“I don’t believe you.” I rolled my eyes; that was so typical of Petunia.
“Well believe it, because it’s true,” I mentally laughed because it was one hundred percent not true, “If you want you can come to Diagon Alley tomorrow to meet him.” Petunia’s eyes seemed like they were about to bulge at the thought of stepping into the magical world. I smirked.
“Or,” She began, “You can just bring him home with you after visiting Diagon Alley . . . and then I’ll believe you.” That swept the smirk right off of my face. I glared at her.
“Fine.” And with that I ran upstairs and into my room. Sneering, I pulled out some parchment, a quill, and ink from my trunk.
Do not ask any question, and whatever you do DO NOT ruin this. My awful sister, Petunia, was bugging me this morning, and I may of accidently told her that you are my boyfriend. I may have also told her that you’re coming over tomorrow after we’re both done at Diagon Alley. It’s so annoying when Petunia get what she wants so please just comply. You’ll even get to hold my hand and MAYBE kiss me.
By the way, if you ever send another letter to my house I will personally kill you. Thanks,
I called over my owl, attached the letter to her leg and had her fly out the window. I sat down on my bed wondering exactly what I just did. Wait, I just asked Potter to be my boyfriend, that's what. Oh, I feel like I'm going to vomit.
With a huff and a puff, I grabbed my pillow and stuffed my face in it, screaming, “I HATE YOU PETUNIA!” But, of course, it was muffled and didn’t sound anything like that.
Tomorrow was going to be tough.
Wait, that may just be an understatement.
*Hows this for the start of the story? Please review! Thanks!
Lot's of love,
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