A/N: This story is being betad by Emandem, who is just a being of sheer amazingness and awesome grammar skills. if it wasn't for her, I'm pretty sure this would be one unreadable story (:
One super-mega-awesome-foxy-hot chapter image by deianeira @ tda!
I ran up the deserted cobblestoned street, my feet splashing into puddles, sending droplets of water up my legs and down into my shoes. I was wearing ripped jeans, an old Holyhead Harpies T-shirt, and short, lace up leather boots. My chocolate coloured hair was down and damp from the slight drizzle that was falling from the sky. I sped up to reach the cover of a shop awning.
The building was some cheap shop selling old robes, second hand spell books and faulty cauldrons. I leant against the glass display window, waiting for the rain to stop.
It was the end of the first holidays of the year and I was in Diagon Alley, stranded until my father picked me up.
Go have some fun, he had said, pushing me through the brick archway. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.
Obviously, his idea of fun was window shopping through deserted streets, all the while getting slowly soaked to the bone. I had already decided that his plan was to make me catch pneumonia so that he wouldn’t have to come pick me up at all.
I looked across the road. The ice-cream shop was closed, but it was the building next to it that caught my eye. A joke shop. I swear that hadn’t been there last time I was here. I quickly crossed the street, and pushed open the door.
A bell rang somewhere out the back of the shop as I walked in. Inside it was brightly lit and warm. There where strange noises coming from all around, and objects floating, zooming and bouncing around the room. I carefully avoided a fluoro green ball with ears that let out an explosion of sparks as soon as it hit something, and had a better look around.
There were a couple of people in the shop. Some of the braver ones where trying to get a closer look at the things on display. As I had no money, and wished to keep all ten of my fingers, I sat down wearily on a velvet covered bench in the corner. (After thoroughly checking that it had no teeth).
It was only the first term of my fifth year at Hogwarts, and I had already managed to get suspended (very unjustly, I might add. All I did was set my teacher’s hair on fire...and their robes...and maybe a couple of text books...), ruin a Quidditch match, fill the Great Hall with purple smoke, explode nine cauldrons, flood one or two bathrooms, and break three bones (only one of them self-inflicted).
Now it was nearly the end of the holidays, and I was facing three things:
1) Missing the Hogwarts Express (I swear that train has got it in for me).
2) Arriving to school late, therefore after all the sticky date pudding is gone.
3) Getting locked out of the Gryffindor Common Room. Again. Do they change the password at the beginning of term just to annoy me?
How do you know you are going to miss the train, you may ask. Well, my dad will most probably be off with one of his many girlfriends, having such a jolly time that he will forget that he has to drop his daughter dearest off at the train station. Then I will be forced to either ride my broom to King’s Cross station, or catch the bus. But England will have two sunny days in a row before that happens.
I was well trained in the art of train missing, however, so it wouldn’t be such a big deal. It was just my luck to be stuck with my dad for the holidays. He was the world’s biggest, award-winning, best-at-what-he-does, prat. I was glad I didn’t have to see him that often, seeing as I spent most of my time either at The Burrow, or at school. He was hardly part of my life anymore.
But that didn’t change the fact that I had another two hours of wet Diagon Alley to kill.
I kicked the ground with the toe of my boot, accidentally hitting the green ball thingy. It let out a shower of angry sparks before bouncing off.
I looked up. Then looked straight back down. Shit. Maybe if I acted like I hadn’t heard him, he would go away.
“I know you heard me.”
“Thomas! How absolutely delightful to see you!” I said, putting on my best fake smile.
Josh shook his head.
“I see you haven’t lost your attitude over the holidays,” he noted, with a smile that showed that he didn’t mind at all. But oh, how I wish he did.
Josh Thomas is a wanker. There's no other way to put it, really. He walks around the school with his group of friends, acting like he owns the whole bloody world. We had actually been quite good friends, until he realized that I was the only fifth year Gryffindor girl that he hadn’t snogged yet. So he’s been trying to fix that ever since I turned him down at the end of last year. I would have broken a few more bones this term if Roxanne hadn’t held me back.
“Go away, Thomas,” I said half-heartedly. I didn’t have the energy to argue with him.
But the stubborn boy only came closer.
“You look good, Walker,” he said, with a confident smile. He was obviously used to getting what he wanted. I think my turning him down last year had put a huge blow in the poor git’s ego. Maybe that’s why he was trying so hard to win me over.
“I've just spent half an hour walking around in the rain, my hair is soaked, and I’m wearing very unflattering cloths and no makeup. Fuck off, Josh, you’re just a load of bullshit.”
I stood up as I said this, to look more intimidating. However, my head was about level with his shoulders, and I had to lift it up to look at him, so I wasn’t feeling very badass.
Still, I wanted to make an exit. So I shot him what I hoped was a sufficiently disgusted look, and stormed out of the shop.
Into the pouring rain.
A/N: Hello! So, this is my very first fan fic, and I'm ever so nervous! What do you think of it? Should I go on with it? Please leave a review, tell me if you liked it, hated it, think I should never write again, anything!