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Real Ladies. by ilharrypotter
Chapter 2 : Of Vesper and Sea Urchins.
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 21

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hey again, guys! School is starting up in two weeks, and I'll hopefully get some serious writing tone with Real Ladies by then. If not, I apologize. :) I'll update as much as I can before school DOES start, then once it does... uh oh.
Just for those of you who might understand, my schedule is as follows: Honors Pre-Calculus, AP Chemistry, AP US History, AP English 3, and marching band. Shoot me.

All real ladies will kiss their boyfriends in the manner that they choose, whether or not it’s proper for the situation and location.


“I’ve missed you,” Lorcan whispers, one hand against the stone wall behind us as he repeatedly brushes his lips against mine for only a few split seconds each time. His other hand is on my hip, and my arms are wrapped around his neck, my fingers knotted tightly in the straight blond hair that is now hitting the top of his collar at the back of his head. His incredible grey eyes are locked on mine, flashing intensely each time his lips touch mine. “Merlin, you don’t know how badly I’ve missed you.”




He kisses me again.


“Missed you-”


And again.




And again. He makes this so difficult for me. Not only is he interrupting me almost every other word with another heart-stopping kiss, but it takes me a few seconds afterwards to recover from the electrifying feeling that races from my toes to my head and back again every single time he kisses me. If we were trying to have a conversation right now, it would take hours. Multiple hours.


It’s been a month since we’ve snogged like this, you see. Every single fucking summer, his parents whisk the entire family- which consists of Lorcan and his twin brother, whose brain is permanently in Nargle-World- to some far off country to search for creatures that don’t exist. I’ll never understand the Scamander family’s way of thinking; we live in a world where unicorns actually do exist, and yet Luna still feels the need to ramble on about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, which is the creature they were on the hunt for this summer, in Sweden. For an entire month. I was away from my Lorcan for an entire month, and he was in Sweden with his parents and brother, hunting down some creature they’ll never find. I’ve missed him terribly.


Hence me grabbing him out of the common room and yanking him into an abandoned corridor during our free period this morning, hoping for a nice hour of reacquainting ourselves. I haven’t been disappointed so far, and he hasn’t been forced away on Head Boy duties yet, either. Hopefully, our lives will be free of his Head Boy duties until this evening, when I’ll be busying myself going over Quidditch plays and planning ways to convince Gwenog Jones to give me a spot on the team, too entranced in my Quidditch world to notice he’s patrolling the hallways.


“Should we get back to the common room?” he questions, moving his hand from my waist to my cheek, cupping my face in his calloused palm. He smirks a little, raising his eyebrows rather suggestively. “I know you want to get a head start on your reading for Potions, because you’re such a little swot and all.”


“I am not a swot,” I pout, swatting his shoulder.


Lorcan laughs. “Penelope and James are going to be wondering where we went.”


“Does that mean you have to stop kissing me like this?” I reply, a little surprised that I’m even able to complete the sentence without being interrupted by his lips again. I’m almost a little disappointed that five seconds passed without a kiss.


“I suppose we can wait a little while longer.”




I love being interrupted by kisses. Not even kidding, I do.


“You dare-”


I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of this.


“Leave me-”


Oh, definitely not. This is addicting. I might just stop talking.


“For a month-”


Well, too close to being done now. After this, I won’t be talking anymore.


“Ever again.”


Okay, I’m done now. When he brushes his lips against mine again, I return it forcefully, hoping he won’t pull away.


But he does.


“I promise. I’ll never leave you for any extended period of time, ever again.”


Well, we might as well be married, then. Oh, won’t that be wonderful. When we’re married and sharing a flat in London, he’ll never leave for longer than his work day, and he’ll travel with me whenever I have matches away from home, and– oops. Letting my thoughts get ahead of themselves, aren’t I?


“Until Auror training starts, at least,” he adds, interrupting my happy thoughts with a not-so happy one.


I grimace. “I’m not looking forward to you leaving randomly without any fucking notice for three entire years. I’m all for spontaneity, but I’d like some fucking warning when my hus-” Hold yourself back, Dom. Come on. Don’t overwhelm him with the marriage thing, it’s been a month since you’ve properly snogged him. “Erm, my boyfriend is going to disappear for an extended period.”


Lorcan laughs at the way I put it. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve discussed it with Mr. Potter-”


Harry,” I interrupt, just as I always do whenever Lorcan- Penelope does it too, now that I think about it- calls my uncle ‘Mr. Potter’. I really hate that, and Uncle Harry does too.


“Yes, Harry- anyway, he’s busy arranging a shortened training session for me, since I’ve been preparing for this since I started at Hogwarts. If I manage to score an Outstanding on my Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T., he’s going to give me three years’ worth of training in only one.”


Well, that makes my plans come into a whole new perspective! Now, even if I can’t convince him to marry me before his training begins in September, at least I’ll only have to wait one year for his training to be over before we can get married, instead of three. That’s much more preferable, and it takes a little bit of the weight off my shoulders for this year.


“Why’re you trying so hard to shorten the training?” I ask, hoping I already know the answer.


“Because I want to get married as soon as possible, my love!”


Oh, bite your tongue, Dom. I’m so jinxing myself whenever I say shit like that. Or think shit like that, since I’ll never say things like that out loud. Then, I’d really be fucked. Just in case I tricked you with my extremely high hopes, that’s what I want Lorcan to say. Trust me, that’s not what he’s going to say. I know him much better than that. He has no idea our future wedding is on my mind, and he’d be pretty shocked to know I’m thinking about it.


Lorcan shrugs, and I absently run my hand down his arm as I wait for his answer, even though it won’t be the one I want to hear. I guess he doesn’t want to talk about Auror training anymore; he doesn’t normally pause in the middle of a conversation unless it’s one he doesn’t want to be having. “I’ve got better things to spend three years on,” he says playfully, looking down into my eyes and sending shivers up my spine.


Oh, damn. He is so good. One look, and all I’m able to think about is how incredible he looks today. Which, in case you were wondering, is pretty fucking incredible. As usual. I can always count on my boyfriend to look absolutely gorgeous, despite the mismatched socks, and I can always count on him to completely distract me from whatever I’m thinking about, which is exactly his purpose for doing this. It works, too. I hate it. Fuck, I’m such a typical teenager. Even though I’m an adult now. You think I’d have grown out of this immaturity by the time I became a legal witch, but no. Never.


“Really now?” I raise my eyebrows, even though I know the conversation is over now.


Time for snogging to start back up again? Oh, dear Merlin, I hope so.



“Good morning, class,” Professor Clearwater announces in a pinched voice, standing at the front of the classroom with her wand in her hand.


The bony, pale-skinned woman is a few years older than my mother, although she looks a quite a lot older than that with her severe facial expression and the way her long brown hair is tightly pulled into a stiff knot at the nape of her neck, and despite trying her hardest to be a pleasant, kindhearted teacher, she manages to come across as a frigid, emotionally-distressed bitch. She always seems to be halfway to tears, even when nothing is going wrong.


“Did everyone with a pet bring it along today, as you were asked?” she asks, looking around the room to make sure a cage is present on the desks of each and every one of her twenty or so students. When she is pleased with our listening skills, she begins to explain the day’s lesson, which is a review lesson from last year. “Today, you will be transfiguring your pet into a sea urchin. Going from one animal to another is one of the most difficult forms of transfiguration, second only to transfiguring a human being- which, of course, is completely against the rules here at Hogwarts.”


To give us an example of this, Professor Clearwater flourishes her wand in the direction of the gigantic tawny owl that is perched on top of a stack of books. In its place sits a small sea urchin; with another flourish, she returns the sea urchin to its original state, and the owl hoots in aggravation. We’ve done things like this before, and, as always, a majority of the class is unable to transform their pet from one state to another without the second state possessing ears, a tail, or feathers, a very small chunk does it successfully, and a third, even smaller chunk can’t even get their pet even halfway to the second state. I usually belong in the second group, only because I try exceptionally hard to successfully perform the first spell before my owl tries to murder me.


I stare at the cage in front of me. My seventeenth birthday present from Lorcan was a tiny, grey Scops owl, who is just a little bit bigger than Lorcan’s hand and a good deal smaller than a Quaffle. She has more personality- trust me, that’s not exactly a positive thing- than any owl I’ve ever met, and she absolutely hates being stuffed in her cage, even though, at her petite size, she has quite a bit of room inside of it. Oh, and she’s also a miniature escape artist, and on the rare occasions in which I finally get her into her cage, she’s very good at getting out of it. I’m surprised she hasn’t broken free yet.


My owl, Vesper, is not a fan of being the guinea pig of Professor Clearwater’s Transfiguration classes. We went through almost three weeks near the end of last year, right after I got Vesper, when our class did nothing but transfigure our pets from one thing to another, nonverbally. It was not the best way to bond with my owl, let me tell you. Now, whenever she gets drug along to the class, she practically throws a fit in her cage, which seems to entertain the hell out of my classmates.


“Amy, I hate your owl,” James confesses, as if I didn’t already know this. He’s rummaging through his robes to find his wand, and his owl, a large snowy white bird who sits tranquilly inside his cage and isn’t even the least bit concerned that he’s about to be transformed into a fucking sea urchin, watches him with his big eyes. Lucky arsehole. Of course he gets the normal owl.


Penelope snorts in a fashion that is entirely unlike her. She finds Vesper’s antics incredibly humorous, just like everyone else, and she bursts into laughter in every Transfiguration class Vesper has to be a part of. In fact, I think James and I are the only two people who think my owl is more annoying than funny.


“Miss Weasley, is there something wrong with your owl?” Professor Clearwater asks, wrinkling her nose in my direction. You think she’d be used to this by now. You would think all of my classmates would be used to this by now. However, they’re all covering their mouths and sniggering in Vesper’s direction. My poor owl, the little psycho that she is. “She appears extremely distressed.”


“Erm…” I look at Vesper. She’s thrashing around in her cage, hooting loudly- as loud as her little owl self is capable of- and throwing herself against the walls of her cage. It looks like she’s having a nervous breakdown. Attention whore. “No, ma’am. She just really doesn’t like being turned into a sea urchin.”


“Apparently,” Penelope snickers.


I turn around in her direction. Jacqueline, her pink Pygmy Puff, is currently a pink sea urchin. Saxon, the white sea urchin, is sitting next to it. And in front of Lorcan, his grey owl is blinking patiently at him, waiting to be turned into a sea urchin while he searches through the pockets of his robes to find his wand. Why must I have the owl that you can’t calm down long enough to transfigure into anything? I’m never going to get her to stand still long enough to tap her with my wand.


“Is it possible to, like, freeze her or something?” Fred asks. He’s sitting at the table next to mine next to Ivory Archibald, a Slytherin girl who apparently puts my airheaded roommate, Delaney Finnegan, to shame when it comes to stupidity.


Ivory leans over Fred’s lap, her long blonde locks falling over the table. “Erm, of course not,” she responds airily. “We don’t have enough ice, and Professor Clearwater would be awfully mad if we summoned any.” As Fred slams his face into his hands at her response, she just blinks innocently, completely unaware that her response was not only unhelpful to the extreme, but extremely idiotic. She’s the Slytherin version of Delaney, for Merlin’s fucking sake. Why the hell is she in N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration?


“He meant with magic, dear,” Penelope informs her gently, making Ivory turn up her nose and return to casting spell after spell on her Siamese cat, who seems immune to transfiguring.


As with most of her roommates in the Slytherin dormitories, Penelope doesn’t have much of a relationship with Ivory. Well, she doesn’t have any form of a relationship, actually. Ivory, along with the rest of our school’s population of brainless bints, hates Penelope simply because she snagged James almost two years ago and has permanently taken him off the market. It must make Penelope’s evenings incredibly difficult, with all four of her roommates not talking to her only because they’re jealous of her boyfriend. It doesn’t seem to affect Penelope, of course. Dramatic girls and bitchy roommates don’t affect Penelope. She continues smiling and doling out kind words and gentle advice, no matter how rude a person is to her. That’s why she’s been able to stick around me for so long. My rudeness has no effect on her.


By this time, almost every pet in the room has been turned into a sea urchin and back into its normal state. Except for Delaney Finnegan’s tawny owl, Ivory Archibald’s Siamese cat, and, of course, my mental patient, Vesper. Professor Clearwater is making the rounds around the classroom, critiquing the transfiguring techniques of her students and exclaiming praises and compliments to the more advanced and accomplished students. Everyone else has finished the given assignment, and every pet is sitting contentedly on their owner’s desk, happy that they’ve safely been transfigured without losing any body parts.


Then, as Professor Clearwater is turned towards Delaney on the other side of the classroom to help her with her flourish, Lorcan brandishes his wand in Vesper’s direction. “Immobulus!” he whispers quietly so our professor doesn’t hear, freezing my psychotic creature as she attempts to bash her own head against the wire bars of her cage. Dear Merlin, my owl is suicidal. She really hates Transfiguration.


“Thank you,” I squeeze his knee under the table gratefully before waving my wand at Vesper. Within a few seconds, in the tiny, frozen owl’s place, there is a small grey sea urchin. Much smaller than everyone else’s sea urchin, but I guess that’s because Vesper isn’t even as big as a Quaffle, poor little thing. I raise my hand, even though Clearwater won’t notice it at the moment, and wave it wildly in the air. She’ll be happy to see Vesper is now causing no trouble whatsoever. “Professor Clearwater! I did it!”


The petite woman looks away from Delaney’s owl, closes her eyes for a moment, and lets out a deep breath. “Miss Weasley, if you will, kindly leave your owl as a sea urchin for the remainder of class. I could not handle one more minute of that commotion.”


James coughs pointedly. “That makes two of us.”


I raise my hand again, looking over my shoulder to stick my tongue out at James. “Professor Clearwater, do you have any objections to Mister Potter spending the rest of class as a sea urchin, too?”

Who loves Vesper the owl as much as I do!? :)

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